Work Text:
The first time Sanemi fucked Giyuu, he at least had an excuse.
Sanemi snarled, blinking sweat out of his eyes. He could feel it. That damn bitch's blood. It burned in his veins and twisted in his navel, squeezing and clawing and setting him on fire from inside out. Her voice echoed in his mind, over and over and over again until Sanemi thought he was going to scream. Who will the lucky bitch be? He could feel her smile inside his head. Although, on second thought, it doesn't seem you're very interested in girls, are you now, demon slayer?
Sanemi squeezed his eyes shut, tangling his hands in his hair and tugging so hard he nearly ripped out a tuft of white. "Get out of my head!" He snarled. "I fucking killed you!"
Oh, sweetheart, sighed the demon. Her voice was mockingly sweet, as if she were talking to a child and not a grown-ass demon slayer who had, just moments ago, slit her throat and flung her head so far he didn’t hear it land but saw a burst of blood on the horizon. You can't get rid of me that easily. I'll be with you until you die, which will be very soon if you don't loosen up some of those morals of yours.
Sanemi sneered, blood dripping down his chin and into the cracks of his teeth. "Burn in hell, whore."
Sanemi had one rule, and one rule only. He didn't fuck or hook up on duty. Ever. It was one if not the only rule he followed, and he followed it religiously. People's lives first. Pleasure second.
A phantom hand brushed through his hair, tugging slightly as if she could pull the thoughts from his head, as if she could untangle his resistance like one does a troublesome knot. Very well, little demon slayer. I'll love to see how long you'll last.
~
The pillars were drunk. Desperately, relentlessly, hopelessly drunk.
All of them except for two, that is. Muichiro had been sent to bed early with a glass of water and a pat on the head while Sanemi was not. feeling. it.
The demon slayers had stopped for the night at an old inn, lured in by the promise of free drinks and cheap rooms. They (IE: Rengoku) had tried to decline the offer, but the owner had insisted, saying it was the most he could do for protecting the village and saving his son and daughter from the claws of a very cruel demon. That was all it took.
Shinobu and Rengoku were locked in an intense drinking contest, the thud of fists on wood between shouted bets and encouragement echoing the pounding in Sanemi's skull. The air stiffened, growing quiet as the alcohol thinned and thinned in their cups. The tension shattered as Shinobu slammed her cup down with a bang and Uzui threw her hand up in victory, her shout drowned out by a wave of cheers and Rengoku's laughter.
"You beat me, Shinobu-san! I knew you could!"
A voice, soft and quiet compared to the roar of the others. "Of course she did," said Tomioka, swirling the drink in his hand. "What did you expect, Rengoku-san?"
"Fuck yeah I did! I'm the champion now, Flame pillar! Fuck you!" Their laughter was so bright, so sudden and loud. Sanemi wanted to punch them.
Sanemi sipped from his cup, regretting every decision that had brought him to this moment. It had only been a few hours since the fight, and Sanemi had thought drinking would help drown the demon's voice from his mind, but it seemed to only do the opposite, amplifying her voice until it grind in his nerves and his muscles, swallowing him whole and marking him from inside out.
It was starting to hurt.
Her voice sounded in his mind, so close it almost seemed to be in his ear. So many options. Which one will you take tonight, demon slayer?
Sanemi closed his eyes, trying desperately to block her out. But it was hopeless. Her voice leaked into him, bleeding into his muscles and lungs and carving itself in the white of his ribs. Her voice echoed in the spaces between his heartbeat, and Sanemi could feel it, feel her breath tickle his heart. She was everywhere, and there was nowhere to run.
He almost felt tempted to ask for help, but who would he ask? He knew Rengoku would, he was a good man, but Sanemi wasn't sure how that'd work, and that scenario only seemed to end with his pride in tatters. He could ask a stranger, but he didn't want to risk hurting them. ...Obanai? Uzui?
So many options, her breath brushed his neck, cold and stale as a corpse. Sanemi suppressed a shiver. And yet there's only one on your mind.
Black hair.
Deep blue eyes.
Soft curves. Pretty face. Stupid two-toned haori.
Fuck.
Sanemi stood up abruptly, downing the rest of his drink in one go and slamming it down onto the counter so hard it cracked in half. "I'm going to my room."
There was a weak wave of protests and a few scattered cheers (consisting mostly of Shinobu) as he turned and made his way towards the door, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. Rengoku called out at his retreating back, his drink tipping dangerously in his hand and his cheeks flushed a startling pink. "Gooood niiiiight Saaaaaneeeeemiiiiiiii!"
Sanemi ignored him, opting to walk through the long deserted halls of the inn in silence. Once at his room, he carefully shut the door behind him. With a shaky inhale, he sunk slowly to his knees, an arm wrapped tight around his belly.
It was starting to hurt, the constant ache and heat and twisting tightness in his navel. It was if there were claws in his stomach, scratching and digging and squeezing everything it could get its shitty little hands on. He couldn't think clearly. The heat was getting to him, unraveling his thoughts one by one until his head was a scrambled tangled mess of want. Sanemi curled into himself, suppressing a groan. Fuck. Fuck this shit. This was such a shitty way to go.
There was nothing to be done, nothing he could do. He couldn’t ask for help. There was nothing stopping him from losing his control, not with this voice inside his head, and Sanemi would rather die than hurt someone as intimately as that.
He was just beginning to say his goodbyes when the door opened, and the worst person in the universe peeked his head in.
"Shinazugawa-san?"
Holy. Fucking. Christ.
Sanemi quickly covered up his crotch in a desperate attempt to hide his very obvious erection. He hissed at him, his face a deep red. "Why the fuck are you here?"
The water pillar tipped his head to the side, ever calm. "I just wanted to check on you. You left pretty early, and you seemed a bit..." he paused, putting it carefully, "a bit strange."
Sanemi glared, baring his teeth. He wanted nothing more than for Giyuu to fuck off, to leave him alone to suffer in peace. He had finally accepted his fate. But as he was busy glaring Sanemi’s gaze caught on Giyuu’s face, on the pretty shape of his eyes, the dark of his hair, the cut of his jaw. And then his gaze dropped a bit lower, and Sanemi realized he was well and truly fucked.
Giyuu was dressed in a casual yukata that was short on him, as if the inn’s staff couldn't find one the right size. It revealed the expanse of his legs, teased the curve of his thighs. It did very funny things to Sanemi’s lower half.
Sanemi inhaled slowly, trying to blink out the images that were burned along the inside of his eyelids. He snarled. "Fuck. Off."
"I don't think I should."
Sanemi narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"
Giyuu's gaze was too steady, open. It was almost too much to look at. "I know what the demon did."
Anger burst in Sanemi's chest, so sudden and bright he saw white. He leaned forward, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. "You don't fucking know anything! Fuck off before I fucking cut you to pieces!"
But the stubborn bastard did just the opposite, closing the door with a soft click and kneeling before him, legs tucked politely beneath him. Sanemi swallowed. All he could do was stare at his bare thighs under his yukata and think about how’d they feel in his hands or trembling around his waist. It was very distracting.
“I came here to help you, as you didn’t bother to ask anyone.”
"What are you even suggesting?" snarled Sanemi. "That I fuck you?" He had meant it as an insult, a jab, but Giyuu simply tipped his head to the side, his face blank. Sanemi's stomach fell. "No. No way. I'm not charity work. Fuck off."
Giyuu’s brows furrowed. "You're dying," he whispered. His voice was too soft. He was too soft.
He's right, you know. It’s as good of an excuse as any ~
Oh shut up, he growled to himself. Sanemi then took a deep breath and straightened his back, trying to scavenge the remains of his pride as he prepared to reject Tomioka, to decline his offer once and for all and fucking get this mess behind him. But the moment he looked up to meet his eyes he faltered, the words dying on his tongue.
He was too fucking pretty. Lean and dark haired with pretty eyes and a waist that curved. It was unfair. So unfair. Sanemi’s mind was flooded with images, of the way his waist would feel in his hand, the noises that’d come out of his mouth.
Sanemi would admit he’s caught his gaze lingering too long on the water pillar, the bastard with dark hair and pretty almond shaped eyes and a face blanker than the sky above their heads. He was quiet, unnervingly so, but when he spoke his voice was softer than a stream, a soothing lull that put a tamper on Sanemi’s rage, no matter how angry he wanted to be.
That very man was sitting before him now, offering himself, his body. Despite it all Sanemi began to wonder how he’d sound; desperate or fucked out or slutty. If he'd be loud or make the smallest little moans and sighs. Sanemi cupped his hands to his head, curling into himself and spitting out a curse.
You want him. A voice purred. Why are you holding back?
More images flooded his mind. Giyuu half-dressed, his yukata slipping down his shoulders, his legs spread and his eyes dark. God he’d be so tight. There were so many ways to take him- he could fuck him on his stomach, slow and deep and ruthless. He could take him against the wall, Giyuu’s arms looped around his neck and those pretty legs wrapped around his waist, forcing out a series of ah ah ah’s with every thrust. Or Sanemi could go between his thighs and watch him fall apart, face flushed and eyes blurred with tears as he fucked him senseless. Sanemi shook his head.
A voice tickled his ear, quiet and steady. Take him. He's alone and you're strong. You can overpower him. He'd feel so good-
"No!" Shouted Sanemi, startling Giyuu. He shook his head, muttering to himself. "No..." Sanemi was an asshole, and a dick, and some like to call him a cock-sucking bitch ass dick, but he wasn't a bastard.
He was not going to force Giyuu.
A hand grazed his thigh and Sanemi startled out of his thoughts to find that Giyuu was close, much too close, his blue eyes steady and concerned.
"Shinazugawa..." he said, and his name sounded so sweet coming from that mouth. “You’re in pain. Let me help.”
Before Sanemi could say anything a hand was at his waist, tugging at his belt. Sanemi sputtered and caught his wrist, squeezing tight.
"Fuck- fuck, wait. W-what the fuck are you doing?" Giyuu glanced up at him.
"Helping you." Sanemi stared at him, mouth open in shock. He was so...controlled. How could he be so calm? Even when telling Sanemi that he could use his body to avoid death by a lustful demon art he was calm; almost completely unfazed while Sanemi was falling apart at the slightest brush of skin. It pissed him off.
"Well don't," he spat, dropping his wrist. “Like I said, I don’t need your fucking help.”
Giyuu huffed, and Sanemi couldn’t help but blink stupidly in shock when a small flicker of annoyance crossed that porcelain face. It was the most human thing Sanemi has seen him do since this shitty demon blood art, since...forever.
"Do you really choose to die over this? What are you afraid of?"
Sanemi couldn’t stop the sneer from twisting his lips. “I’m not scared. Especially not of you.”
Giyuu chose that moment to lean even closer, hand tightening in his belt. Despite his earlier words Sanemi felt his heart freeze, his shoulders tense. He was too close. Sanemi could feel the heat radiating off his body, could imagine that warmth on his skin. Soft thighs and sweet moans and sighs. God he wanted.
"N-No." He leaned back, glancing away to avoid his gaze. "I-I don't want to hurt you..."
Giyuu paused and stared at him, his gaze level and infuriatingly calm. "You won't."
And then Giyuu took out his cock and Sanemi swore he almost passed out.
Giyuu began to jerk him off, hand sliding up and down his cock, and Sanemi broke. His elbows gave way and he collapsed onto the floor, unable to push him away. He cupped a hand to his mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sounds bubbling up his throat. He was spilling over Giyuu's hand almost immediately, precum making his fingers sticky. But Giyuu simply kept going, smearing the wet along his shaft and god everything was so hot and wet and tight and that was Giyuu touching him, Giyuu’s hand on his cock.
Any other time Sanemi would've hated himself for how weak he was being, how quickly he was falling apart, but his thoughts could only focus on the ache in his lower half, his mind reduced to the feel of Giyuu's hand on his cock. He was so hard it hurt, the heat in his navel growing worse with every stroke, rendering his thoughts to nothing but the want, the ache for something to fuck, for a tight wet heat on his cock.
Giyuu’s hand paused near the head of his cock, his thumb rubbing small circles into the head and smearing precum down the slit. Sanemi let out a broken groan. The slide of Giyuu’s fingers on his burning skin had him almost on the edge of consciousness. Fuck that demon fuck that demon-
Sanemi was just on the edge, his hands twisting in his haori and his navel wound tight when Giyuu's hand stilled on his cock, forcing a horrible half-broken moan from Sanemi's lips. Sanemi peeled an eye open to find Giyuu staring down at him, his brow furrowed in concern. “You need more than this.”
Then Giyuu was moving, and before Sanemi could think he was straddling his lap, thighs falling on either side of his hips. Sanemi's hand automatically went to his waist, steadying him.
"Tomioka-" he hissed, grip going tight on his hip. Fuck, he was way too close to his dick. Sanemi had never imagined that one day Giyuu would be on his lap, offering his body so shamelessly to him. He was man enough to admit that Giyuu was pretty -almost too pretty- and he has thought about him in decidedly, inappropriate, ways, but those brief thoughts had always stayed that way: thoughts. But now Giyuu was on his lap, his weight warm and comforting, his waist a perfect fit in his hand, and Sanemi had no idea what to do with himself.
Giyuu moved his hips, brushing his erection and Sanemi was going to die.
"F-fuck, Tomioka. Wait-" hissed Sanemi, squeezing his hip. Giyuu stopped, and Sanemi leaned down, taking a deep, steadying breath, reining in the last of his control. God, everything hurts. Why did that demon have to be such a dick? "Listen," he said, working to keep his voice level. "I. don't. want. to. hurt. you."
There was a long moment of silence as Sanemi laid there waiting, his eyes squeezed shut, determined not to see the look on the water pillar’s face. He felt Giyuu shift slightly in his lap, thighs brushing Sanemi’s hips, and then his quiet voice broke the silence.
"Shinazugawa." There was something different about the way he said his name, and Sanemi opened his eyes only for him to tense as Giyuu leaned down, hand sliding up his thigh. His breath brushed his neck, and then his voice was in his ear, low and hot. “You can use me.”
Sanemi broke.
Giyuu landed hard, too surprised to make a noise louder than a gasp. Sanemi moved quickly, slotting himself between his open thighs and pinning his wrists above his head with one of his own. Giyuu stared up at him with wide eyes, the calm facade of before disappearing in an instant.
"You're that desperate, huh?" he hissed, grip going wickedly tight around his wrists until Giyuu winced. Sanemi sneered, lips twisting cruelly. “Then I’ll just fucking give it you, slut,” he said, squeezing his wrists one more time before releasing them in favor for his chest.
Sanemi tore his yukata open and licked his lips, taking a moment to enjoy the view. Giyuu’s stomach was lean with a hint of muscle, skin soft and unbelievably warm. He was mostly free of scars but for a few scattered ones on his hip and chest. Sanemi traced a newer one by his left hip, thumb trailing almost gently over the pale skin.
Giyuu began to squirm under his gaze, his cheeks turning a delicious pink. Sanemi felt a sudden need to mark him up, to leave some trace of him on his skin. The urge left him hot and breathless, so he pushed the fabric further aside at his throat and leaned down, hot breath brushing skin before he bit down, hard. Giyuu jumped slightly, tensing beneath him and letting out a low broken moan. Sanemi licked at the wound, tasting the iron of blood.
He kept his mouth at the water pillar’s neck, scattering bites and kisses as his hand fell low, easing its way between his legs. His finger brushed against his hole and Giyuu gasped, his head falling back against the sheets and his thighs tensing around him. Sanemi pressed in, mind going blank when he found it to already be wet. Giyuu had prepared for this.
“Fuck. You slut, so desperate for my cock.” Another finger slipped in and Giyuu whimpered, his thighs going to squeeze together. Sanemi slid a hand up his leg and pushed them apart, holding them open. “You want to be fucked, don't you? Stuffed full of cock and fucked so hard you can’t even think."
Giyuu let out a broken moan, cupping a hand to his mouth. He only had two fingers in him and his face was already a delicious shade of pink, his thigh trembling under his hand. It was almost worrying, how quickly he was falling apart. Sanemi couldn’t help his grin. His cock was going to break him.
The burn in his navel was twisting again, winding tighter and tighter with each stroke of his fingers into that tight heat. His patience was waning, eroded almost to nothing by the sounds that slipped past Giyuu’s lips, his brows furrowed and his skin shining with sweat. Sanemi thrusted his fingers in harder.
He was going to fuck this pretty lithe body of his until Giyuu cried.
Desperate to get going, Sanemi quickly slicked up his cock, jerking it once twice before pressing it to his hole, relishing the way Giyuu shivered at the contact. But before he could move and finally, finally fuck into that pretty pink hole, Sanemi forced himself to stop, leaning down to hiss into Giyuu’s ear.
"Do you want this, Tomioka?" He panted. He tugged hard on his hair and Giyuu whined, airy and desperate, eyes slipping shut. "Tell me you want this."
Giyuu licked his lips, shuffling slightly beneath him. He didn't say anything for a few moments, the smell of sex thick and heavy in the air, then: "I do," he said quietly. "I do want this. Please."
That was enough. Sanemi didn’t wait any longer. He pushed in hard, bottoming out in one swift stroke. Distantly he heard Giyuu cry out, but Sanemi hardly registered it, his mind consumed by the tight tight heat.
Sanemi saw stars. He was so hot and tight, he practically squeezed his cock. Giyuu whimpered beneath him, and this time Sanemi registered it enough to open his eyes.
He found Giyuu trembling beneath him, his eyes squeezed shut, jaw tensed, obviously struggling with his size. Sanemi grinned. He rocked his hips and Giyuu moaned desperately, clapping a hand to his mouth.
Fuck. He was barely moving and Giyuu was already wrecked, writhing beneath him with tears clinging to his dark lashes. Sanemi locked his jaw, holding back a groan. He really lucked out, getting to fuck Tomioka Giyuu out of all people, and Sanemi was determined to use this opportunity for all of its worth.
Sanemi buried a hand in his dark hair, tugging roughly. He leaned down, biting down hard on his ear and drawing out another whine.
"Where’s the cockiness from before?” He whispered, breath brushing his neck hot and cruel. “Or was that all talk, sweetheart?" Sanemi pulled out and pushed back in, hard, and Giyuu shuddered. "Am I going to break you?"
“Ngh-” Giyuu clenched his jaw, but then managed a small glare, the blue of his eyes barely visible through the dark of his lashes. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could get out a word Sanemi fucked in hard, cutting off his words with a moan. Sanemi pushed in again and again, setting up a brutal pace that had Giyuu gasping and writhing beneath him.
“What?” he panted, feeling a bit high, more than a bit crazy. “Did you think you were just going to ride my cock, make me cum and then pat yourself on the back?” He thrusted in hard and Giyuu choked, unable to catch his breath. “You think I wouldn’t make you feel good?” He hissed, picking up the pace and making Giyuu squirm, tearing a broken moan from his throat with each thrust.
“Fuck, fuck, Sa-Sanemi, s-slow down - ah!”
Sanemi complied, switching into a dirty grind and leaning down so his face was close to Giyuu’s, so they were sharing the same air. Giyuu stared up at him, his face flushed and eyes blurry with tears. He looked overwhelmed, fucked out and even a bit slutty, with the way he took his cock like he was meant for it. Sanemi hooked a hand under his knee, spreading him wider, wider, displaying him like a whore.
For his next thrust Sanemi aimed for his sweet spot and snapped his hips, obviously hitting right from the way Giyuu went rigid, a broken moan falling past his lips. Sanemi brushed a thumb over his bottom lip, the rasp of his voice low and almost gentle. "Hush. People might hear you."
That made Giyuu cup his mouth again, trying desperately to muffle the moans being forced out of him with each one of Sanemi’s thrusts, each one hitting that bundle of nerves. It wasn’t long before the sensation became too much, and Giyuu came with a muffled shout, white speckled on his belly.
Sanemi wasn’t far behind him, grip bruising on his hips as he used his limp body to chase after his own release, even as Giyuu began to whimper and squirm beneath him from overstimulation. Sanemi fucked in a few brutal thrusts before he came violently, muffling his groan with a bite on Giyuu’s neck.
The heat in his navel didn’t dissipate, but the pain did, the twisting wrenching ache that he’s felt all evening disappearing in an instant as he emptied himself into Giyuu. Sanemi groaned, shoulders sagging with relief. He lazily thrusted in once, twice before pulling out, spilling white down Giyuu’s thighs.
Giyuu shuddered as his cock left his body, face flushed a pleasant pink. He looked so good like that, fucked out and covered in Sanemi’s cum. Sanemi thought he should look like that more often.
That wasn’t so hard now, was it, demon slayer? Sounded a voice in his ear, familiar and oh so grating. It’s been lovely, truly. Said the demon before giving a small wink, something Sanemi didn’t know was possible to do in someone’s head. Take care of him, now. He’s a keeper.
And then she was gone, the absence of her voice inside his head almost a weight itself. Sanemi let out a sigh, all his strength leaving him at once as he slumped forward with relief, just barely stopping himself from collapsing onto Giyuu.
The warm fuzzy feeling of his afterglow left surprisingly quick, and Sanemi was made hyper aware of the huge ass mistake he just made. He peeled himself off of Giyuu- ignoring the small protest that slipped from Giyuu’s lips- and hopped off the bed, hurriedly collecting his clothes off of the floor and throwing them on as fast as possible.
Shit. Shit. He just fucked Tomioka Giyuu, the same Tomioka that he was going to have to work with for the rest of his demon slaying career, the same Tomioka he was going to have look in the eyes and adknowledge in meetings or on shared missions.
Fuck.
He heard Giyuu get up behind him, bare feet making little noise on the ground as he searched for his clothes.
“Thank you,” said Giyuu, picking up his haori. He’s wrapped the cloth around him and despite it all Sanemi could still see his thighs, wet with a small trickle of white trailing down his skin.
Sanemi felt himself flush at the words, those stupid, stupid words that only Giyuu would think to say after a rough fuck. “Whatever,” he mumbled, tugging on his haori. He hurried out of the room without a second glance, trusting Giyuu to be long gone when he came back.
Sanemi had thought of that as the first and only time. The only thing changing since the encounter is that now the images he saw as he jerked his cock weren't fantasies but memories, actual memories of a real thing that had happened to him, Shinazugawa Sanemi. He knew it wasn't going to happen again, not unless one them gets fucked over by another blood demon art (not that Sanemi wouldn’t love to see a desperate Giyuu begging for his cock, cheeks pink and needing to be fucked).
No, this was a one-time only kind of thing, and Sanemi was okay with that. Really. His short-lived relationship with Tomioka Giyuu was done and over.
And then Giyuu came to his room.
~
It was nearing midnight, and Sanemi was seething. He stood half-naked in the middle of his room, his skin shining with sweat as he beat the living shit out of a bundle of old clothes and hard pillows, rage simmering just under his skin. A demon had almost got to him, arm wrapped around his middle and claws poking at his throat before Kamado, a goddamn kid of all people, had burst out of nowhere and saved his ass. But not soon enough. He fucked up. He fucked up so hard.
He threw back his arm and hit the makeshift punching bag so hard it almost flew off the hinges.
Two people were dead. Two people were dead because he was weak; because he wasn't smart enough, quick enough. Sanemi grit his teeth and punched harder, and harder, and harder, splitting the skin on his knuckles until they were painted a dark dark red.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. His life is so fucked.
There was a knock at the door, soft yet persistent. Sanemi paused mid-punch, his arm hovering in the air and his lips twisted mid-snarl.
Who. The. Fuck. Was that? He stormed across the room and threw the door open with a bang, startling Giyuu. Sanemi roughly snatched his wrist and tugged him inside, Giyuu stumbling after him. The instant the door had shut Sanemi was crowding him against it, his wrist still trapped in his grip.
He spoke in a low hiss. "Why. The fuck. Are you here?"
Giyuu, the little brat, didn't bother responding, opting instead to stare at him with blank blue eyes. Sanemi tugged on his wrist. "Oi. I asked you a question."
Giyuu blinked. "I came here to help."
Again with this shit? "I don't need your help." He hissed, voice dripping with poison. "I'm not dying. I'm not in pain. There's no fucking excuse, Tomioka."
"Yes, you are."
Sanemi leaned in closer, lips twisting into a snarl. "I'm what?" He asked, voice dangerously low.
"In pain."
"Tomioka." He growled, grip tightening on his wrist. Giyuu winced at the rough touch, eyes slipping shut, and Sanemi was momentarily startled out of his rage.
He was so... small. Not necessarily height-wise (although Sanemi was, indeed, taller, a fact that he was almost embarrassingly proud of) but he was lithe, with a lean sort of strength to him. Sanemi gripped his wrist tighter, feeling how slender it was, how easy his hand enveloped his. He tried to ignore the way his stomach fluttered, both with heat and something too soft to name.
Giyuu was talking, his voice so quiet Sanemi almost confused it with the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. "You're hurting, Shinazugawa."
"And what? You're just going to offer up your body like a whore?" He snarled, leaning further into his space. "I don't want you," he hissed. "Especially not to fuck you." But the second the words left his tongue Sanemi knew they were a lie. Giyuu was staring up at him under dark lashes, his blue eyes almost black in the dark. His throat was pale and unmarked and Sanemi wanted to scrape his teeth against his pulse and etch the sound that drips from his lips into his memory forever.
"Fight me."
Sanemi's mind stuttered. "What?"
"If you're not going to fuck me, then fight me." Sanemi blinked, his mind still processing the words when a sudden burst of blinding pain exploded across his jaw. He stumbled back, clasping his cheek. "Shit! You- you fuck."
Giyuu lowered his fist slightly, but kept his arms raised above his chest, one leg forward one leg back. Classic fighting stance. He tipped his head to the side and for a moment those dark eyes burned bright, shining with excitement, with feeling. Sanemi’s stomach twisted. "Or are you a coward, Shinazugawa?"
Sanemi snapped.
They fought for what seemed like hours, until Sanemi was panting and sweaty and the burn in his blood felt as if it would engulf him from inside out, like his entire body would burst into flame. It wasn’t long before Sanemi realized that without his sword, Giyuu fought dirty, aiming for the body's weak points over a show of blunt strength more attune to Sanemi's style. But despite their differences it was a near equal fight, both holding their ground. But one slip-up was all Sanemi needed. Giyuu took a swipe at his head, stepping too far to the left and leaving his side open, and Sanemi lunged.
He pinned him to the floor, twisting his arm behind his back until Giyuu cried out. Sanemi stopped, relieving some of the pressure but keeping his iron grip. Giyuu panted beneath him, his jaw tense and his arm shaking from the unnatural angle.
Sanemi took him against the wall, muffling his broken cries with a hand clasped over his mouth. He bit hard into his shoulder, drawing blood, and between rough thrusts pushed in deep, and filled him with a shudder.
~
Sex soon became a routine, not that Sanemi was complaining.
Their eyes would meet across the butterfly estate grounds and later that night Giyuu would end up in his bed, arms looped around his neck and legs spread, making the prettiest noises as Sanemi fucked his brains out. This was happening more and more, the number of days Sanemi ended up in bed with him slowly outnumbering the nights he slept alone.
He didn’t want to admit it, and he never would, but there was something different about the sex, about Giyuu. It wasn’t often he had sex multiple times with the same person, or had to cover up his back to make sure people didn’t see the claw marks from where he fucked Giyuu so hard he couldn’t help but struggle for purschase, nails biting into his shoulders and leaving behind long bloody trails that Sanemi would trace the next morning, stuck in the memories of the night before.
He found he didn’t mind the sting.
But the thing was, none of it meant anything. Not that Sanemi cared. After all, it was just physical attraction. Giyuu was pretty, and he apparently found Sanemi attractive enough to keep coming back. And besides, he was getting almost daily sex, what was there to complain about?
Sanemi drew his blade across the sharpener, the scratch of metal echoing across the empty grounds and drawing him out of his thoughts.
Shit. He fucks a pretty boy once and he can’t get him out of his head. He’s really out of his game, isn’t he? Sanemi shook his head and huffed, turning back to sharpener. But before he could continue there was a sound from across the grounds, coming closer. Sanemi glanced up, curious.
"-not really, no." It was Giyuu's voice, tired and slightly annoyed. Sanemi hated himself for the way he perked up.
"Oh really? Then why did you..." and the teasing lull of Shinobu's. Sanemi felt himself deflate a bit.
They walked by, intent on ignoring him. Sanemi scuffed, scraping his sword once more before standing up, lips curling into a manic grin. He swung his sword up onto his shoulders. "Oi! Tomioka! Wanna fight?"
Giyuu met his gaze, eyes narrowing. He was kinda cute when he was mad. "No."
Sanemi strode across the grounds, stopping right before Giyuu and Shinobu. He leaned into his space, wearing a shit-eating grin. Shinobu tipped her head, watching them curiously. "What? Are you scared, Tomioka-san?"
Giyuu glared at him, the blue of his eyes as still and impenetrable as the surface of a frozen lake. It made the heat in Sanemi’s chest flare, the arousal twist in his navel. "I have work to do."
And with that he and Shinobu were walking again, past him to the tree where he was sitting before, sharpener still laying on the ground. Sanemi shook off his surprise and stomped after them, grabbing Giyuu’s arm and pulling him towards him.
“Shina-” hissed Giyuu, voice dangerously low. Sanemi grinned, bright and vicious, and squeezed his wrist.
The sound of someone clearing their throat startled them out of their trance, their heads turning to the insect pillar. Shinobu smiled at Sanemi, the grin plastered on her face sharper than the blade at her hip.
“I would appreciate it if you'd let Tomioka go, Shinazugawa-san,” she smiled. If Sanemi were a weaker man, he would’ve flinched at the look in her eyes. “I need him for an important meeting, you see.”
Sanemi spared one more glance at Giyuu before relenting, dropping his wrist and taking an exaggerated step back, hands raised in surrender. “Good. Now come on, Tomioka.”
Giyuu shot a small glare at Sanemi, taking a small step towards Shinobu. He didn't get far-he immidately stumbled over the blade sharpener, eyes going wide as he tripped over his own feet. Sanemi reached out to catch him but it was too late. Giyuu crashed into him so hard he stumbled back, feet tangling with his. Sanemi quickly lost his balance and then they were both falling down, down, down.
Sanemi hit the ground with a dull thud that resonated through his skull. He shifted and groaned, teeth aching in his mouth. An answering groan coming from Giyuu as he lifted himself up, extending his arms so he was sitting upright, his hands splayed out on Sanemi's chest.
Giyuu blinked, and then his face turned so red Sanemi was worried he'd catch on fire. His hands flew off his chest as if he were burned, eyes widening in panic.
"Sa-Shinazugawa!” He toppled off with an oof! "Shit - fuck, I'm sorry-"
He stood up on wobbly legs, hair messy and falling out of its tie. He quickly snatched up his dropped sword and hurried away, the flush high on his cheeks.
Shinobu stared after him, her eyes following his shrinking form until he disappeared. She glanced at Sanemi. "I didn't know you guys were fucking."
Sanemi choked on his next inhale. He glanced up at her, coughing and sputtering. "F-fucking excuse me?!?!"
She shrugged. "I didn't think he was your type."
"What do you know about me?" He hissed.
"Everything," she said. She didn't elaborate. "But...Giyuu?" Shinobu tipped her head. "Though if you think about it, it does make sense, doesn't it? He's pretty." She said, her nose wrinkling as if she regretted saying that aloud.
Sanemi huffed. "So what?"
"You like the pretty ones." Sanemi clenched his jaw tighter, anger so thick in his mouth it clotted like blood on his tongue. He tried his best to ignore her, adjusting his sword and looking everywhere else but her.
"On the other hand," she said, casually. "Giyuu has a type, doesn't he?"
"Oh, fuck off,” he growled. "I'm not his type."
"Big scary guys with a harsh demeanor and a secret heart of gold?" She tapped her chin. "Hmm, where does that sound familiar?" Her grin was too sharp. Sanemi's grip grew so tight on his sword he swore he heard the metal creak.
"He. does not. like me."
"He likes your chest," she smiled. And then two hands were on his chest and she was patting him. Sanemi's mouth fell open in shock. "But who doesn't? These man tiddies can get anyone." The patting stopped before she squeezed and Sanemi slapped her hands off his chest.
"He doesn't like me like that! And stop touching me!”
"But you guys are having sex, correct?"
He stood up. "I'm leaving."
"Wait-" she caught his arm, pulling hard and causing him to stumble back a few steps. Sanemi huffed, annoyed that someone who barely came up to his shoulder could toss him around like he weighed less than a bag of potatoes.
Shinobu’s grip went tight on his arm. "Listen, Shinazugawa,” she said, voice low and serious. The violet gaze baring into his own was too sharp, focused. It was dissecting him, peeling back the layers of his facade and bearing him for her to see. It made Sanemi uneasy.
“Yeah?” he grumbled, not meeting her eyes.
"Be kind to him," she said, her voice softening. "And be careful, will you? He doesn't need another Sabito."
"Yeah, yeah I know," he mumbled, pulling out of her grip and rubbing his wrist. His face was a bit too hot for comfort. "I'm not evil, you know."
"That is highly debatable.”
He sneered at her, but the heat was gone from it, and he was left with the feeling of being much too exposed. So without another word or glance he began to walk away, determined to leave the whole situation behind him (along with the thoughts of a boy with dark, dark hair and deep ocean eyes).
He was only several steps away when he heard Shinobu sigh, mumbling under her breath. "Poor Giyuu needs better taste."
Sanemi turned around, calling out. "He's got better fucking taste than you!"
"Fuck you! Mitsuri is hot as fuck and you know it!"
He left feeling not as shitty as he thought he would.
~
There was a demon in the red-light district, and Rengoku, Sanemi, Giyuu and Uzui were all assigned to the mission.
At first Sanemi didn’t want to go. He had tried to make up excuses, anything that would get him out of it, but they all sounded like bullshit, even to him.
He was nervous to go with Giyuu. He didn’t know if it was being around the other pillars, the risk of their, whatever this is, being exposed, but Sanemi found himself clenching his jaw at the pillar meeting, stomach twisting at the sound of his name next to his.
He fought the urge to look at Giyuu, but as the monotonous talk of missions and goals and reports went on, he couldn’t resist, eyes sliding across the many demon slayers until his eyes met those of the water pillar.
Giyuu stared at him from next to Uzui, comically small next to the sound pillar. His blue eyes were steady and clear, and it made Sanemi want to pin him to the nearest wall, to bite and squeeze and touch until he cried out, to watch those eyes bleed into fog. Sanemi swallowed, and looked away, praying the heat in his navel didn’t translate onto his face.
He had to get himself together.
The four pillars were kicked out without much information but this: the demon was in the red light district and was known to target women- the prettiest and most special oiran. This sparked a debate of who was going undercover to draw out the demon. There was universal agreement that neither Rengoku or Uzui could pass for a woman, and if they got within an inch of Sanemi with a brush he'll thrust his sword so far up their asses they'll be tasting metal for weeks. That left only one option.
Three pairs of eyes fell on Giyuu. The water pillar sighed, the light in his eyes dimming slightly. "Okay."
Uzui stepped forward to help with the makeup ("I have three wives you know") while Rengoku and Sanemi went out to buy a yukata.
After a long trip into town (with plenty of talk from Rengoku) Sanemi found himself back in the Inn’s room, closing the door behind him with the yukata over his arm. It had been expensive, almost worryingly so, but even Sanemi would admit that it was beautiful, made of high quality fabric and dyes. The second his eyes had landed on it in the shop he had known it was the one, with Rengoku quick to agree.
Sanemi was about to call out his presence when he startled, going silent at the sight before him.
Uzui was more focused than Sanemi had ever seen before, hand under Giyuu’s chin and a brush trailing along the curve of his eye. Giyuu sat with his eyes closed, perfectly still as Uzui worked. Sanemi felt his stomach drop, his face going hot.
Uzui lifted the brush from his eye and went to dip it in red, spinning it along the tin’s edge. His hand went under his chin, gently tipping up his head. Giyuu parted his lips slightly, allowing him to paint them an enticing dark red.
Once he was done Uzui sat back with his arms crossed across his chest. His grin stretched ear to ear, eyes crinkling with pride. “My, my. I must say, you make a beautiful woman, Tomioka! Nearly as beautiful as one of my wives.”
Sanemi swallowed, mind blank. He still hadn’t moved from his spot when Tomioka nodded, face perfectly blank. “Thank you, Uzui-san.”
What Uzui said was an understatement. Giyuu was... gorgeous. His dark hair was put up in a messy bun, his trademark bangs still framing his face. His lips were painted a faint red that contrasted brilliantly with the blue of his eyes and Sanemi could. not. stop. staring.
“Ah, Shina!” yelled Uzui, making Sanemi jump. “How flamboyant of you to join us.” The sound pillar smirked, glancing behind his shoulder and throwing him a knowing look. Sanemi bristled, face growing even hotter.
“Fuck, whatever,” he mumbled, tossing the cloth that was in his arms. Giyuu caught it effortlessly, blinking down at it. “Here’s your stupid yukata,” he muttered before turning around and leaving the room as fast as possible, heart pounding and pants a bit too tight.
Fucked. Sanemi was fucked. Staring at Giyuu all he felt was an overwhelming urge to pin him to the nearest wall and fuck him so hard Giyuu wouldn't be able to walk for days.
He had no idea seeing the nape of Giyuu's neck would make him so hard he almost came in his pants.
But Sanemi wasn't the only one. Part of the mission was keeping a high profile to attract the demon’s attention, but Giyuu did more than attract a single man’s gaze. Men slinked their arms around his waist, lips against his neck. They pressed him to their sides, whispering empty promises in his ear: One night, sweetheart, that's all I ask. I'll be gentle, pretty thing, I promise. The things I'd do for you, if you just open those legs of yours. Sanemi only got to punch three of the bastards before Uzui was pulling him aside, scolding him for a rough minute about "compromising" the mission and "revealing their positions" and blah blah blah. Sanemi could hardly hear him through the blood rushing in his ears.
It got so bad that Rengoku had to resort to slinging a permanent arm around Giyuu's shoulders to fend them off.
They called him so many things. Sweetheart, pretty thing, whore, slut. The last one set Sanemi's teeth on edge. It made his blood boil, and he wanted nothing more than to punch the fuckers that treated him like a two dollar whore.
Yet it seemed like he was the only one getting worked up. Despite all the names and touches Giyuu didn’t seem too bothered. He remained as stoic as ever, hardly reacting at all to the men's advances.
But Sanemi was (regrettably) getting better at reading him, at finding the cracks in his facade, the small moments of weakness or emotion. Lips would brush his neck and Giyuu would glance away, an arm wound around his waist and his lips would twitch.
He was flustered. Beneath that blank, indifferent mask, Giyuu was embarrassed by all the attention.
Sanemi wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. He just wanted this fucking mission to be over.
It took several days, but much less time than they had originally thought. Giyuu moved quickly up the ranks, drawing rapt attention from men and women alike. It wasn't long before he caught the target's eye, and that's when Sanemi found himself in the dark, perched behind a dresser and sword in hand.
There was a small metallic cling as either Uzui or Rengoku shuffled, their sword bumping into the wall. Uzui was perched on a ledge by the ceiling, Rengoku hidden in a dark corner, the one closest to the bed. Sanemi shifted his weight restlessly, the wood creaking beneath his feet. Giyuu was supposed to be here by now. Fuck, did something happen? They all agreed Giyuu would lure the demon to this room, not only so they could take it by surprise but also so they could be as far from civilians as possible. But before Sanemi could fall deeper into his anxious thoughts the door opened with a bang.
Light flooded into the room and the three pillars tensed. Giyuu came stumbling back into the room, quickly followed by a tall dark-haired man dressed in a white haori. Sanemi felt his heart lurch. He matched the description perfectly. It was him. The demon latched the door behind them, locking him in. Giyuu was about to say something when the demon suddenly cupped a hand to his jaw, roughly tipping up his head and pressing his lips to his, swallowing his words. Giyuu made a small sound, his hand automatically tangling in the front of the demon's haori. Sanemi felt his body go rigid, fingers going white from how tight he gripped his sword. The demon pushed forward, forcing Giyuu back until he fell onto the edge of the bed, the demon moving to settle between his legs.
Large hands roamed up Giyuu’s waist as the demon leaned forward, spreading his legs further apart. The demon kissed him again, messy and rough, before letting his head fall into the crook of his neck.
"You're so gorgeous, pretty thing, so good for me..." Giyuu tipped his head to the side, allowing the demon to lick up his throat. The tension in the room heightened, the unease in the air almost unbearable as the three men leaned forward, grips tightening on their swords.
Giyuu's eyes slid across the room. His eyes met Sanemi's, narrowed and dark, and he nodded.
Three swords clashed at once, creating a brief spark that lit the room in a brilliant flash of white before just as suddenly blinking out. The light lit Sanemi's vision, and for a moment he could see the red on his blade as it protruded through the demon’s neck, blood spilling in violet rivers down his pale throat. But before Sanemi could slash to sever its head from its shoulders the demon vanished. Sanemi felt a rush of wind as the demon appeared above them, and the fight began.
The demon was a lot stronger than Sanemi had expected. Even against four pillars he stood his ground, using the dark to his advantage. He couldn’t see but for a few brief flashes as swords clashed, creating small sparks that cast the demon’s face in light and shadow.
Giyuu was quick to tear the cloth of his yukata around his legs, freeing his movements and allowing him to maneuver around the dark crowded room.
Rengoku tossed him his blade and Giyuu caught it above his head. He twirled the blade between his fingers with ease, spinning the blade across the demon's throat before it could blink. The demon eyes went wide. It choked and sputtered, clawing at its neck just as Giyuu shoved a foot on its chest and sent it crashing to the ground. He kept his foot there, holding it down as he leveled his sword at its throat.
He sliced, clean and precise, and the noises stopped. The flailing slowed, then stilled, the body going limp beneath him.
All Sanemi could hear was a mix of their own breaths, panting and staring at the demon, at Giyuu. Giyuu wiped his mouth, lips turned down in disgust. His yukata was shredded and bloody, revealing slivers of pale skin along his thighs.
"Well. That's over."
Sanemi was never more turned on in his life.
~
"Shinazugawa, what are you - ah-!" Giyuu cried out, head falling back against the sheets as the flush darkened on his cheeks.
Sanemi couldn’t handle it anymore- Giyuu had finally pushed him to his limit. The glimpse of milky skin under those shredded clothes had pushed him to the edge- the snap of his self control almost audible as he felt the last of his resolve break. He was quick to get them alone, grabbing his wrist and dragging him away, leaving a clueless sound and flame pillar behind. So here they were, alone in Sanemi’s room with Giyuu spread out beneath him like a goddamn meal.
"Fucking tease,” he growled, nudging his thighs open. Such soft thighs. Who allowed him to be this lovely? “I watched men drool over you for days. The things they said about you..."
Giyuu wasn't a public whore. He wasn’t theirs to degrade or touch or use. It made Sanemi’s blood boil, the way their eyes would trace down his body, wondering what he looked unclothed, in their beds. Sanemi snarled, grip going tight.
He bit his inner thigh, and Giyuu keened, eyes squeezing shut. Sanemi barked out a laugh, low and cruel. "Maybe you really are just a slut. You would've let those men fuck you however they liked, spreading your legs like a good whore." Giyuu shook his head, hands twisting in the sheets.
"N-no, I'm not - I wouldn't-"
Sanemi gripped his hips and flipped him onto his stomach, cutting him off as Giyuu let out a small yelp. “Why not?” he sneered, pushing in a rough finger. Giyuu shuddered, body tensing as Sanemi twisted his wrist, searching for the spot that’ll have him crying. “You would be good at it, riding men’s cocks, letting them use you.”
“S-Sanemi...” he whined, burrowing his face into the sheets. Sanemi fucked his fingers in a bit too rough, drawing out another breathy whine before he pulled out, wiping the excess lube on Giyuu’s thighs.
Too impatient to wait any longer, Sanemi grabbed his waist, fingers pressing bruises into his hips. His cock was immediately pressing against his slick hole, teasing. Giyuu shivered.
He pressed him down into the bed and slid in all in one swift push. Giyuu choked, the breath forced out of him as Sanemi sat thick and heavy in his guts. Sanemi pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, the gesture much too soft next to the roughness of his grip, the burn of his cock sitting inside him.
Giyuu waited for him to move, hands white and shaking in the sheets, but Sanemi stayed put, pressing lazy kisses to the back of his neck and the space below his ear. Giyuu swallowed, and turned his head, trying his best to glare through the tears clinging to his lashes.
“M-move…” Sanemi grinned, bright and wild, and then he pulled out and thrusted in, hard. Giyuu gasped, body scooting up the bed. Sanemi didn’t wait for him to adjust- thrusting in again and again, starting a brutal rhythm that had Giyuu panting, writhing in the sheets.
Sanemi leaned in close, hot breath brushing his ear. “Feel so good, Giyuu, such a good toy, just for me.” Giyuu could practically feel his crazy grin, lips grazing his ear as he panted, voice low and rough. “You would get them off, spread your legs so easy like a good slut.” Giyuu moaned, the sound echoing through the empty room. “Shit- just listen to you. You were made to be fucked.”
Giyuu squeezed his eyes shut, helpless as Sanemi fucked him down to his elbows and into the mattress. Giyuu couldn’t even speak, words cut off by the sounds forced out of his throat with each thrust. The sounds that escaped his mouth were better suited for a trained rent-boy, a toy you find and fuck on the streets.
Sanemi hitched his leg up, cock sliding in so nice and deep it fucked a high helpless sound out of him, his vision going white with pleasure. He was close, both of them were, and Giyuu bit his lip as Sanemi fucked into him at this new, impossibly deep angle, toes curling as he reached closer and closer to the edge.
They came at the same time, Sanemi pressing him down into the mattress through his release, groaning in his ear. They stayed like that for a while, just panting and breathing in each other’s scent. Sanemi was almost asleep the second he pulled out and was beside Giyuu’s side, but just as his eyes were slipping close he caught sight of a smile on Giyuu’s lips, small but undeniably there. It was the first time Sanemi has seen him smile, and it shocked him. He was about to comment on it when sleep took him, dragging him into a dreamless dark.
~
The next morning they woke up early, ate a quick breakfast, and went to meet up with the others at the edge of town. If anyone had noticed Giyuu’s limp, they didn’t say anything, hopefully assuming it to be the result of the fight and not Sanemi pinning him to the bed and fucking him late into the night.
Rengoku looked strangely blissed out, his hair a bit too messy to be sleep-tousled. And he wasn’t the only one - Uzui looked a bit rough himself, white hair falling into his eyes and clothes slightly askew. One of his arm bands had even slipped down past his elbow.
Giyuu went to tug back in place, fingers brushing skin as his hand curled around the metal. Uzui jumped, startling both Rengoku and Giyuu, the former letting out a startled yell. Giyuu stood frozen in shock, arm still hovering in the air. He glanced up at Uzui, eyes slightly wide.
Uzui rubbed a hand on his arm. "Fuck! Don’t touch me, Tomioka!”
Giyuu gaped. “W-why?”
Uzui made a face, still trying to wipe Giyuu germs from his arm. “You got demon cooties."
Giyuu blinked once, twice, unable to speak. A few tense moments of silence passed until there was an explosion of sound. Sanemi hugged his stomach as he bent over, helpless to the laughter that bubbled up his throat. He laughed until there were tears in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks and making everything very wet and messy. He hacked and coughed and hacked again, desperate to catch his breath.
Out of the corner of his eye Sanemi could see Giyuu’s shocked face, half-covered by Rengoku’s arm as the flame pillar slung it across his shoulder and squeezed, no doubt trying to comfort him despite the tears in his eyes. Sanemi could barely suppress his smile.
Even after all this time, Sanemi still couldn’t put a label on what they had. All he knew was that he didn’t want it to stop- he wanted to keep meeting with him, the fumbling of clothes and desperate touches in the dark. He wanted to tease him just to see the color rise on his cheeks, drink with him and laugh as he loses all control of that pretty mouth, crumbling into a blushing, stuttering mess right before him.
It’s been months since the blood art, and they still haven’t kissed. Sanemi has felt the tempation, has wanted to when Giyuu was all sleepy and curled up in the covers, hair sex-tousled and falling in his eyes. He'd lean in but before his breath could brush Giyuu’s lips he’d freeze; muscles locking and preventing him from leaning in closer. It scared him- wanting something like that, something so soft and intimate. The kind of thing wasn’t meant for him; he was too rough, brash. He didn’t deserve something like that.
Nonetheless, things seemed to be going well, and Sanemi was (for the first time in a very, very long time) almost happy.
And then Genya died.
And Sanemi fell apart.
~
Weekly fights became nightly. The fighting was brutal- sparring between pillars often was, but this was nasty, violent fighting, and although Giyuu was strong (one of the strongest, really) his skills were with his sword on the field and not close hand-to-hand combat in a cramped room.
Sanemi beat the shit out of him.
Giyuu became his punching bag, a fucktoy to come to and use to release his tension. It wasn't that Giyuu enjoyed it, but he came anyway, let Sanemi pin him down and fuck him, use him.
Sanemi was rough, too rough, grip too tight on slender hips. He could taste blood, his lip bleeding from a hard uppercut Giyuu had served him earlier. All he felt was hurt, and rage, and he used Giyuu, fucking his feelings out and into him. He wanted to slow down, to take him deep and slow and watch him fall apart under his touch, overwhelmed but desperate for more.
Giyuu was putting so much trust into his hands and Sanemi kept fucking it up over and over. He left bruises and cuts all over his body, his grip always a bit too tight. He remembered fucking into him one day, his lithe body writhing beneath his, gasps small and airy, when Sanemi caught sight of a large green bruise on his hip. It looked painful, and Sanemi was so startled he paused his thrusts, drawing a small whimper from Giyuu. He smoothed his thumb over the bruised skin, not missing the way Giyuu winced. “Was that...is that mine?”
Giyuu just stared at him, gaze level and controlled. Sanemi felt a sudden burst of anger, so bright and blinding he saw white. He pushed into him all in one thrust, and Giyuu’s head fell back, a broken sound ripped from his throat. He began fucking him hard, so deep and ruthless and rough, grip squeezing on his hip.
“Fuck. Fuck. Why aren’t you fighting back? Fight me hurt me kill me just fucking fight back."
Giyuu made a wounded noise beneath him, his eyes screwed shut and his hands winding into the sheets. There was no way he could respond, Sanemi was fucking him far too rough. His hips stuttered as he came, Sanemi leaning down and biting his neck so hard he could taste blood between his teeth. They pulled apart, and Sanemi went to get his clothes from off the floor.
Giyuu tried to stand on trembling legs but immediately fell, his legs folding beneath him. He landed on his knees and his legs were shaking and his waist was littered with finger-tip shaped bruises and it looked like he was forced and oh my god he did that.
Sanemi felt a rush of disgust, of shame and guilt so strong for a moment he thought he might throw up.
He didn’t know. He didn't know if it was pity or a sense of duty or whatever the fuck it was that made him give up his body so easily, so willingly. Maybe it was because it relaxed him, took the edge off. Maybe Giyuu saw the way he needed it, needed to scratch and bite and carve his hurt into someone else. Maybe he let him use his body because Sanemi was breaking, and in a strange, oddly Giyuu way it was a way of showing that he cared, that he was there.
Because the thing was- when Sanemi hurt, he couldn’t escape. It swallowed him whole until all he could see and feel was red, the color of blood and rage and everything that defined him. The only way out was to spill it; to draw blood and punch out his rage and to scream and slice and fight until the red fades into white once again. But something was off about this red; it was too dark, too blotted. Sanemi cuts and cuts and it keeps spilling, filling his lungs until he can’t breathe, can’t think through the taste of blood and panic on his tongue.
Sanemi was fucking him, his wrists trapped above his head and his legs spread. Giyuu's cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut, every thrust forcing a broken noise out of his throat. It couldn’t have felt good, not the way Sanemi was fucking into him; just pressure and burn and the feeling of being stretched and full and used. Sanemi snapped his hips, hard, and Giyuu choked, going tight around him.
He flinched with every thrust in, face wincing, and Sanemi grit his teeth. He was a sick bastard, Sanemi would admit that, but he wasn’t cruel. For just a moment, he wanted to see Giyuu moan high and helpless, become undone in pleasure and not from roughness.
I don't want to hurt you.
His hips suddenly stopped, drawing a low whine from Giyuu's throat. Sanemi grabbed his waist and pulled out, cock slick and throbbing. The instant it left his body Giyuu slumped boneless to the bed, the tension rushing out of his limbs as he struggled to catch his breath.
Sanemi’s hands gripped his narrow waist, and then he was tugging him forward and onto his lap, Giyuu's thighs falling on either side of his hips. Giyuu startled, hands flying to his chest to steady himself as Sanemi laid down onto his back. He looked so confused and slightly scared and Sanemi felt a rush of guilt, the taste bitter on his tongue.
He was so focused on his own rage and hurt that he forget it was Giyuu he was fucking and not some toy, some slut off the street.
Giyuu was about to say something when Sanemi sunk in slow and deep. Giyuu’s mouth fell open, his eyes fluttering shut. He let out a low moan, and Sanemi’s grip tightened on his hip. At this angle he sunk deep, deeper than before, and Sanemi had to bite his lip to hold back his groan. He pulled out slowly, ignoring the pretty sound that slipped from Giyuu's lips, and then pushed back in, hard, tugging him down and burying himself into that tight heat.
He fucked him like that, slow and deep and hard, and it wasn't long before Giyuu was melting in his lap, turning to putty in his hands.
“Sa-Sanemi - ah!" Sanemi groaned. It’s been a long time since Giyuu’s moaned his name like that, high and breathless and shaky with pleasure. It made the heat in Sanemi’s navel tighten, made his cock twitch from where it was buried in his ass. He fucked up into his tight heat, spreading his thighs further apart to thrust deeper into him and tearing a moan from his lips.
It was almost loving, the way he was fucking him. Sanemi had to admit it wasn’t bad, especially not the view. Watching Giyuu come undone, his face pink and his thighs trembling and his mouth hung open, making those sweet little sounds. He was beautiful.
But then on a random thrust Giyuu cried out, cupping a hand to his mouth. He curled into himself, his whole body shaking. Sanemi grinned, smoothing small circles into his hip with his thumb. "Right there, huh?"
Sanemi thrusted up again, hitting the same spot, and Giyuu broke. He came shuddering, white speckling their bellies. Sanemi fucked him through his orgasm until Giyuu was panting and squirming on top of him from over overstimulation and then Sanemi was pushing his cock deep into his belly, filling him with a long broken groan.
They stayed like that for a few moments, Giyuu trembling in his lap, his thighs twitching as if they wanted to close. It was one of the most intimate things Sanemi had ever experienced. He felt like his nerves were scraped raw, as if he just opened himself up and revealed to Giyuu every aspect of him, the good and the ugly. He felt vulnerable, and on edge, but the sight of Giyuu writhing in pleasure in his lap, overstimulated and his name dripping from his lips made it almost alright. Almost.
Giyuu was still in his lap, his sides heaving and dark hair falling in his eyes. Sanemi felt the strongest urge to brush it away, to lean up and cup his cheek. He wanted to kiss him, to tangle his hand in the mess of his hair and just feel him, be with him. He wanted it so badly it hurt.
But he didn’t. Instead he slid out, cock spilling wet down his thighs. Giyuu winced, biting his lip slightly, but didn’t move to leave his lap. He only bothered to move when Sanemi squeezed his hip, motioning him to let him up so he could find his clothes.
While searching for his haori and hakama Sanemi couldn’t help but steal a glance behind him, to the kneeling figure on the bed. Giyuu was looking at him, almost as if he expected him to lash out and resort to his usual violence. But it seemed to have been beaten out of Sanemi, and he simply buckled back up and left as quickly as possible, leaving Giyuu to clean himself up.
Sanemi had to get himself together.
~
Sanemi felt like he was falling apart.
He can't go through this again. He won't survive. Can't survive. His hands were shaking as he pressed down harder, blood slipping through his fingers like water. He was breaking, he was sure of it, could feel the pieces of him crack and fade and turn to ash beneath his fingers. He wasn't even aware that he was crying.
Sanemi wasn’t watching. His attention was on the dying demon before him, its head lolling at his feet, when he felt a rush of air and the heat of a body at his back. There was a tearing sound and a yelp of pain, the sound making his insides go cold.
Sanemi had sliced the fucker's head off the instant he was by Giyuu's side, but it was already too late. Giyuu's face was carefully blank as his hand brushed his stomach, grazing torn cloth. His fingers came away red and then his legs were folding beneath him and Sanemi was rushing forward to catch him before he hit the ground.
He dragged him away from the fight, away from the threat of claws and fangs and swords. He laid him down, as gently as possible, but Giyuu still winced, the weak broken sound slipping from his lips digging claws into Sanemi's heart.
His skin was warm, but his blood was warmer, slipping scalding hot through his fingers and burning his skin, leaving it red and blistered. Sanemi could feel him breathe under his hand, the soft rise and fall of his belly. He could feel that it hurt, that it hurt him to breathe and there was blood everywhere and Giyuu was dying and Sanemi was going to break.
A hand brushed his, the touch so soft Sanemi almost missed it. "Sanemi...don't cry."
Sanemi shook his head. There was no way he could put himself back together, not again. His mind was a scrambled panicked mess, the fear so strong he could taste it like blood on his tongue. He leaned down, pushing down harder onto the wound.
“Giyuu, please,” he cried, unable to stop himself. The words bled from his mouth like blood; red, hot, and unstoppable.
"Fuck, fuck. Just stay awake, Giyuu, please." He bowed his head, curling over him. "Please!" His voice broke, splitting into a sob that hurt his throat.
Giyuu was barely conscious, haven lost too much blood to stay awake. His blue eyes (the ones Sanemi caught himself staring into much too often, the ones Sanemi couldn't stop thinking about, the ones that Sanemi might just have been beginning to fall in love with) were cloudy and so so dull and not like his at all. They were fading, Giyuu was fading, and Sanemi couldn't breathe. "Sanemi..." His grip tightened. "S-Sanemi... I think.."
And then his hand relaxed around his, the tension fading from his body as he went limp and Sanemi began to scream
and
scream
and
scream
until his voice cracked and broke and everything faded into a dark blur and all he could see was red. red. red.
~
Sanemi didn’t see Giyuu for weeks. He paced restlessly outside his door as he healed, wearing tracks into the floor until Shinobu politely hissed at him to fuck off and get some sleep for fuck sake. Sanemi complied, fucking off to the wind pillar estate to spend his nights tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. He had never been so anxious, so full of unspent energy and looping thoughts. He was used to sex on an almost daily basis, and the lack of stimulation left him reeling (at least, that’s what he told himself. That had to be the reason, had to).
When Shinobu finally let him in with a warning and a promise of good behavior, he found Giyuu perched up on the bed, bandages wrapped tight around his belly. Giyuu met his eyes, the blue going wide for a few moments before his lips curled into a whisper of a smile, small but undeniably there. It was so sudden and bright it made Sanemi’s heart lurch, breath hitching in his throat. Giyuu laughed quietly, eyes crinkling, and the knot in his stomach eased.
The day after that Shinobu released him from her hold, hissing at him to be more careful.
Sanemi was there waiting for him, watching as Giyuu endured some wet hugs from Tanjirou and the gang along with tears from Mitsuri and a squeezing hug from Rengoku that lifted his feet off the ground (because even if they almost die on a daily basis, it's not all the time that they really really almost die). During all this Sanemi stood silently against the wall, face stoic and unmoving as he watched the others pat and hug and cry at a bewildered Giyuu, who accepted their hugs graciously albeit a bit confused.
When the others had finally begun to trickle out, leaving him with a last hug or farewell (or for Mitsuri, with a kiss on his cheek that left Giyuu’s face only a bit redder than Shinobu’s) Sanemi took Giyuu’s wrist and tugged him out of the room, dragging him up to his estate without a single word or glance.
As soon as they walked through the door Sanemi was crowding him against the wall, hand on his waist and teeth scraping down his neck.
He pressed a kiss below his jaw, and then one below that, and then another and another, trailing down his neck and chest to his stomach. Sanemi hooked a finger in his belt loop and tugged him forward, pressing a kiss to his belly, to the pale skin of his new scar. The moan that escaped Giyuu's lips almost seemed forced out of him, his legs going weak and his hand tightening almost painfully in Sanemi’s hair. Sanemi snarled and quickly swept him off his feet, earning a startled sound from Giyuu as he carried him to his bed.
Sanemi fucked him hard. He kissed him everywhere - violent, messy kisses that forced a moan from Giyuu’s lips, his head falling back against the sheets. Sanemi took his sweet time opening him up, making sure to hit his spot with every thrust until Giyuu was writhing beneath him, legs shaking at each twist of his wrist.
Sanemi hit the spot with every thrust of his cock, curling a hand over his leaking cock. The sensation quickly became too much, and Giyuu came with a shudder, curling into Sanemi. Sanemi fucked him through it and when he was all overstimulated, shuddering at each drag of his cock, Sanemi pushed all the way in and moaned through his own release, head falling into the crook of Giyuu’s neck.
Normally Sanemi would have gotten up, gotten dressed, and slipped out without a word, leaving Giyuu to take care of himself. But Sanemi didn't move. He stayed there with his head resting in the crook of Giyuu’s neck, inhaling his scent, memorizing the warmth of his skin and the soft rise and fall of his breath.
A hand brushed the back of his neck, the touch soft and hesitant. "Sanemi?"
Sanemi wondered when Giyuu had begun calling him by his name; when it became so natural, so normal. He hummed, nestling closer.
Another nudge, this one a bit firmer. "Hey, we have to clean up." Sanemi sighed, stealing one more inhale before reluctantly pulling away. He snatched a towel beside the bed and tossed it to Giyuu, who began patting at his chest and thighs.
Sanemi’s eyes tracked the motion, his gaze lingering on his thighs and then up, up, to his face, the dip of his lashes, the cut of his jaw. He was staring at him when he saw blood, bright and vivid and so so wrong. Fear sliced through his chest, bright and startling, and then Sanemi was leaning forward, hand cupping his jaw and swallowing Giyuu’s surprised gasp with his lips.
It was gentle, too gentle and Sanemi squeezed his eyes shut at all the things he was saying.
It was over way too soon. Sanemi forced himself to pull away, daring himself to look into Giyuu’s eyes.
Giyuu was staring at him, his face a mix of concern and confusion and some other emotion Sanemi couldn’t identify. His lips parted with his breath, and Sanemi couldn’t help but notice that they were slightly wet.
Shit. His face was so unfair. “I...” he grit his teeth. “I think... I think I.... like... you.....”
God his face was burning. He stared down at blankets, his jaw clenched and regretting every life decision he’s made to this moment.
A hand cupped his cheek, tipping up his face until he met dark blue eyes. “Sanemi,” whispered Giyuu. His voice was so soft, so him. Sanemi clenched his jaw harder, steeling himself. “Sanemi, are you sure?”
Huh. That wasn’t what he was expecting.
“What?” he blurted out. He had meant to say it with malice but it just came out flat and confused.
Giyuu furrowed his brow, and god was he gorgeous. “I thought... you made it very clear that you didn't like me. Not like that."
Sanemi glanced away, unable to meet his eyes. “Feelings weren’t supposed to get involved...”
Giyuu leaned forward, his hand sliding to cup his jaw. Soft lips met his own, and Sanemi almost melted. It was the first time Giyuu has ever kissed him, and it was soft and sweet and gentle and Sanemi really was whipped, wasn’t he?
Giyuu pulled away, just barely, his breath warm on his lips. "I think...I think I might be in love with you, Shinazugawa Sanemi." At the sound of those words Sanemi's mind went blank, completely and utterly blank. He blinked, physically incapable of speech.
They sat there for what seemed like hours, Giyuu’s hand roaming across his chest as he waited for Sanemi to collect himself, fingers tracing the scars above Sanemi’s heart with a practiced ease.
That seemed to knock Sanemi out of his haze. He blinked, almost startling when he realised that Giyuu was still there, waiting, breath warm on his lips and lashes dipped low over blue eyes. Sanemi felt something in him click.
He was done with waiting. He wasn't going to lie to himself any longer.
He pulled him forward and kissed him, swallowing the surprised sound that escaped Giyuu's lips. Sanemi leaned forward until Giyuu's arms gave out and then they were lying on the bed, Sanemi's leg between his thighs and his hand curled around his jaw.
He pulled away, breath a little ragged. "You know what," said Sanemi, licking his lips. "I retract my earlier statement." He leaned in closer, breath grazing his lips. "Giyuu, I think I love-" a hand fell promptly over his mouth, muffling his words. Sanemi blinked in surprise, glancing down to find Giyuu’s head turned to the side, his face a deep red.
"D-Don't say anything more. Please."
Sanemi smiled under the gag. He slid up a hand and removed Giyuu's fingers from over his mouth. Gently, he pressed a chaste kiss to the middle of his palm, and then one on each knuckle, humming in satisfaction at the way Giyuu's face turned even redder.
Sanemi met his gaze, smiling against his palm. "Now why would I do that?"
Giyuu stared up at him, eyes narrowed in a glare. But then Sanemi saw the edge of his lips twitch up in a smile, and Sanemi knew they were okay. Will be okay. He leaned down and kissed him, finally feeling the curve of those lips for himself.
If anyone noticed the absence of the wind and water pillars at the meeting the next day, they didn’t say anything.