Chapter Text
Kenma’s gotten to the point where he needs fingers in him. (Or better yet, a detachable showerhead.) He slides down against the wall, shuddering at the contrast of the cold tile and his hot skin, and tries to open his legs further in the small shower stall. Next time, he’s getting a suite. With a jacuzzi with jets and actual rooms to lock Kuro away in—
Pain spikes suddenly up his spine and it takes him a beat to realize that it wasn’t from him. There’s a loud curse from outside, then the bathroom door slams open. Kuro dunks his hand under the water of the sink with a hiss.
Kenma sits up, more shocked than anything else, and cracks open the glass shower door. “Um, excuse you. What happened?”
Kuro winces at the water, but Kenma can’t see anything else from this angle. His legs are too tense and his hormones are struggling to figure out if this is enough of an emergency to get distracted by, but Kenma gingerly stands up to investigate anyway, still peeking around the edge of the door.
“Okay, so I’ll clean it up myself, and—look, I’m not lying—it wasn’t my fault,” Kuro begins, and that doesn’t reassure him. From his higher angle, Kenma can see the last bits of pink rinsing away with the water, but there’s no obvious wounds (or blackness) on Kuro’s hand. “So, you may need a new jar of dead man’s blood.”
Kenma narrows his eyes. “You broke it.”
“Your game startled me. Did you know it starts playing different music if you leave it paused too long? I tried to catch the jar I knocked over, but you can see how well that turned out,” Kuro grumbles and pulls his hand out of the water, wiggling his fingers at Kenma. The skin is a little red, but it’s nothing bad. As Kenma squints at the injury, Kuro sniffs the air, and breaks out into a wide, lecherous smirk. “Kenmaaaa. It smells like sex in here. You haven’t even washed yet.”
“I’m entitled to my own shower time. Why do you think I take forty-five minutes in the shower?” he fields, and slides the door shut again. The water is still hot, and that feels nice, even if his mood is otherwise ruined. Kenma rinses off his fingers with a small sigh.
“I think you should kiss my hand better.”
“Shove off, Kuro.”
“I’ll wash your hair for you if you kiss it better.”
Kenma isn’t certain where Kuro even got the notion that kisses make injuries better (it certainly wasn’t from him), but his offer is extremely tempting. And it may as well function as an apology for ruining his stress relief. Kenma angles the showerhead down and slides open the door, the only invitation he’ll get.
Kuro doesn’t waste it. He literally trips over his pants as he tries to shimmy out of them, and Kenma belatedly realizes that the last time he let Kuro shower with him was before their fight. Can it be called a fight? It probably shouldn’t be called a fight, but Kenma isn’t comfortable calling it anything else, and it easily explains Kuro’s eagerness.
“You smell good,” Kuro hums, momentarily resting his cheek on top of Kenma’s head before he slides around him to get to the hot water.
“When’s the last time you bathed?”
“Bokuto let me splash around in their little bird pool thing—”
“Right,” Kenma sighs, and taps Kuro’s shoulder to force him down onto his knees. He reaches over him for the soap, but Kuro startles him by wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him forward. He places a short but open-mouthed kiss against his stomach, and Kenma wobbles, off-balance and off-guard. “What was that for?” he asks, eyes wide. Please don’t say something stupid—
“Hey, I like getting my hair washed, too. Consider it thanks,” he mumbles against him, and continues placing small kisses outward in a line until he reaches Kenma’s hipbone. Kenma really wishes he had thought out their positioning a bit better, but he can’t sit down himself without getting a face full of water.
And. It’s kind of nice—
Kenma dumps more gel than he probably should onto Kuro’s shoulder, and the chilliness of it makes the demon jump against him. Which, in turn, almost unbalances him again. Okay, they seriously need to rearrange, but before he can do anything more than drop a loofah onto Kuro’s head, Kuro is running his tongue along the edge of his hip, and Kenma really does jump and lose his footing.
“I’m sorry, are you ticklish?” Kuro asks with a laugh muffled against his skin. He at least had the grace to steady him, but Kenma is very much Not Amused.
“You knew that,” he accuses, and Kuro can’t argue without it being a lie. The ass. “Don’t tickle me. I’m trying to make sure you’re not dirty.”
“I want to be dirty,” he hums and slides his hands down Kenma’s thighs. Honestly, just the physical touch is pretty nice, and he wouldn’t mind indulging. But there’s already soap everywhere, and Kuro should not be rewarded for his behavior.
Kenma adjusts the showerhead again and sits down, awkwardly cross-legged, across from his demon. He throws the loofah at him. “Scrub yourself.”
“That’s so mean,” he whines, but he doesn’t specify whether he’s referring to the move or the order. Kuro throws the scrub back at him and instead uses his hands, purposefully doing a shit job at washing himself, and apparently that’s enough to satisfy the order. He bends over and kisses Kenma’s knee. “You should’ve found a place with a bigger bathroom.”
“Next time when I’m fleeing from angry witches and hunters I’ll prioritize better.”
“Kinda surprised you didn’t have an escape plan already,” Kuro admits and kisses his other knee.
Kenma doesn’t want to get into that. “What do you think you’re doing, and how long will it continue?”
Kuro looks up at him through the bangs plastered against his forehead, gold eyes sharp. “If you want me to stop, you know all you have to do is say no.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I think I’m gonna kiss you, and I’m gonna keep kissing you until you orgasm, fall asleep, or order me off.”
Something twists in Kenma’s stomach. Not quite arousal and not quite panic, but some horrific mixture of the two. It’s not as if he hasn’t thought about this again, since their maybe-fight, but he’s not sure where they stand now. As Kuro kisses (rather chastely) up the inside of one thigh, still bent over ridiculously, the mix in Kenma’s stomach sways firmly back to arousal. But the panic is still present.
“Why?” Kenma has to ask.
“Can’t I want to do things for myself?”
“You don’t like getting your hair washed this much.”
“I wish I could say I’m hoping to get promoted to incubus,” Kuro says with an impressively straight face, eyes up on Kenma’s face again, but then he looks down at the leg his cheek is pressed again. No, not leg—Kenma feels his face heat up and tries to close his legs on reflex, but with Kuro practically between them, it’s impossible. “Can I taste you?”
“How can you say that,” Kenma mumbles, face instantly hot at such an earnest question. Kuro can’t lie and he hasn’t really learned a human sense of shame yet, but Kenma has enough embarrassment for the both of them.
“I want to do it.”
“Why.”
Kuro finally shifts, now on his hands and knees, with his almost-injured fingers splayed across Kenma’s thigh. He cranes his neck to try to meet Kenma’s flushed face. “I’m glad I got summoned by you, and I really like you, Kenma. And honestly, you smell so good right now I just want to eat you up.” He frowns thoughtfully, and then adds, “Sexually. Not in any other way. …You know that, right?”
“N-Not until the contract is up,” Kenma says weakly. There’s not enough space in the shower stall for him to get away, but he knows it’s an excuse for his own benefit, because he doesn’t want to get away. Kuro’s hardly done anything and he’s stupidly wound-up. Kuro won’t harm him until the contract is up, and Kenma is comfortable in that knowledge, but he doesn’t want to discuss it now. “I thought you were supposed to be making me come.”
“Come where?”
Hopefully on your face. Kenma grits his teeth and bites out, “It’s a euphemism. Orgasm. I want you to get on with it.” He doesn’t want to have to introduce Kuro to any more slang, but hopefully this is the end of the talking. He’s tense enough as it is (Kuro is not helping by simply returning to soft kisses trailing up his thigh) and they had been treading dangerously close to sentimental territory.
Kenma has learned his lesson on that.
Kuro’s fingers reach the juncture of his legs before his mouth and Kenma twitches at the first tentative brush. The water hasn’t washed away all of the slickness from before his interruption, and Kuro trails his fingers around in a circle, avoiding absolutely everywhere where Kenma wants him to touch. Kenma wiggles, sliding downward a bit, and Kuro laughs against his skin and moves his other hand to grasp his hip.
So he’s more or less keeping Kenma stationary, but before he can complain, Kuro slips a finger into him. Half a heartbeat later, he moves up and kisses Kenma, on the mouth this time, swallowing the tiny noise he makes. Kenma opens an eye, a small part of him wanting Kuro away from his face, but most of his brain power is dedicated to a mixture of relief and confusion that Kuro knows how to crook his finger just right.
“Why,” Kenma breathes when Kuro draws back. Of course his eyes are still open. And instead of answering, he just presses his finger upward again. It’s where Kenma wants it and the pressure is just shy of being damn near perfect, but it’s not enough in general, and all of this attention is making him antsy. To get Kuro’s mind back on track (instead of just staring up at him in something like wonder), Kenma flatly commands, “Another finger or use your tongue. I want to get this over—ahh!” Kuro does both, and Kenma can’t restrain an outright moan, and oh god Kuro’s wide-eyed expression up at him.
“That was an interesting noise,” he remarks innocently.
“P-Put it out of your mind,” Kenma retorts, and his mouth falls open with a pant when Kuro curls both fingers upward in him. Kuro has a look, though, when he lowers his mouth again. Kenma expects it a bit better this time, and clamps his mouth shut on another embarrassing moan when Kuro gives his clit a long, broad lick.
His gold eyes are still locked on Kenma’s face, and if Kenma weren’t worried about opening his mouth again, he’d order him to look away. The air in the shower is hot and humid, and feeling warmer by the second.
It’s obvious Kuro is aiming to earn more noises, but Kenma is stubborn. …At least, he’s stubborn up until the point where Kuro figures out the right pattern of kitten licks, sucking, and the pumping of his fingers, and then Kenma’s powerless to stop his head from falling back, mouth open. Each pant leaves his heaving chest with growing volume, and it isn’t until Kuro puts his forearm over his hips that he realizes he was raising them to try to match his pace.
It’s embarrassing how fast this is getting him there, especially since Kuro’s still staring at him most of the time, although once in awhile his eyes will flutter closed—and Kenma realizes that he’s biting back little sounds of his own. Nothing as incriminating as what he’s making, but satisfied sounding sighs and Kenma’s half-sure some of the groans are parts of his name.
All this goes out the window when Kuro abruptly releases his grip on his waist and removes his fingers. Kenma blinks down at him, confused and betrayed, because he had been getting there damn it, but Kuro answers him by dragging his thighs up over his shoulders, half-lifting him off of the shower floor, and buries his face between his legs. Kenma bites down on his lip hard at the renewed enthusiasm, and honestly the positioning could be better and he’s going to get a hell of a crick in his neck but he never wants Kuro to stop what he’s doing with his tongue.
The build is even faster this time. Kenma finally gives in with a loud moan. One hand finds Kuro’s hair, tangling his fingers in the dark hair and pulling hard enough to have to hurt, but it certainly doesn’t deter the demon. He uses his other arm to brace himself and pushes himself against Kuro, trying to get his tongue deeper. Kenma’s hand tightens in Kuro’s hair as he feels the warmth tighten in his belly.
“Kuro, I—don’t stop—” His voice wavers and he doesn’t even care, he just wants to finish. Kuro rumbles with some sort of response, and Kenma can feel it against him, and that is what finally sends him over the edge. Kenma comes with a cry, hips jumping, pulling at Kuro’s hair. Kuro fucking purrs in response.
Kuro laps at him, less aggressive but twice as eager, as Kenma comes down from his orgasm, until he twists away. Kenma gingerly scoots back a little, noting that his legs feel a little weak, and locks eyes with his demon. His pupils are huge and he’s licking his lips like he’s just had the best snack in the world, and Kenma distantly hopes that he didn’t just give him a literal taste of himself or anything. “Did I do good enough to warrant an encore sometime?” Kuro asks with a smirk.
Honestly, the flippant attitude reassures Kenma in this instance. He nearly kicks him in the head as he closes his legs and sits up entirely. “Maybe.” He’s not about to admit to his own lack of experience, and neither does he want to dwell on just how satisfying or not that had been for Kuro. “You still need to wash my hair.”
The shower, very suddenly, runs out of hot and dumps freezing cold water on them both. Kuro yelps, more directly underneath it, and Kenma scrambles back as far as he can to avoid it with his own strangled squeak. “Again?!” Kuro growls and Kenma motions for him to turn it off while he tugs the shower door open to escape. He’s only half-clean at best but he’s already cold and he has no patience for an ice bath after that.
Kuro cheats and comes up out of his shadow, dripping onto the bathroom tile, leaving the water running in the shower. Kenma glares at him and orders, “Shut that off.”
“But it’s cold,” he whines.
Kenma isn’t convinced he can fully feel temperatures. “Shut it off.”
Kuro, grumbling under his breath, ducks back into the shower to shut the water off. Kenma grabs the nearer towel and runs it over his hair first, but other fingers soon take over, more gently. He can’t help but lean back against him with a contented sigh. “I’m cold now, Kenma. I think we should cuddle on the bed. And continue to be naked,” Kuro murmurs, massaging his scalp with the towel, fully aware it’s counting as bribery.
“Are you going to get grabby?” Kenma asks. He doesn’t exactly mind the idea, but he wants to know what Kuro’s thoughts on it are, and he doesn’t want the demon to havetoo much freedom when it comes to Kenma.
“Maybe in a bit, but only if you want. First, I seriously do want to just lay down with you.” And there he goes again, saying things that could be construed as romantic.
Is this supposed to be aftercare? Kenma isn’t sure Kuro has a sex drive and he doesn’t want to tackle the thought of sex-sex right now when he’s still half blissed-out and getting progressively sleepier, and he’s pretty sure Kuro doesn’t have a concept of aftercare just yet, either. But he still finds the notion that he wants to cuddle oddly human.
“C’mon,” Kuro continues, taking Kenma’s silence as needing further persuasion, “You could use a nap. Aren’t orgasms supposed to make humans tired?”
Honestly, the rubbing down with the towel is doing more to get him sleepy than eating him out did, but Kenma doesn’t want to admit that aloud, lest it be used against him in the future. “Fine. But this isn’t going to become a regular occurrence.”
The words are hardly out of his mouth before Kuro scoops him up with a happy noise. Kenma momentarily flails in his grasp, trying to right himself, and he ends up getting carried mostly bridal-style out into the main room. It would’ve been worryingly romantic-slash-emotionally-attached if Kuro didn’t dump him on the bed like a sack of potatoes.
“You’re still dripping wet!” Kenma hisses, kicking at him to keep him from the bed. “Go dry off.”
Kuro scrunches up his nose and steals Kenma’s towel. He gets literally just dry enough to prevent himself from dripping before he dives into the pile of blankets. Kenma opens his mouth to protest further, but he’s ambushed by an arm, a pillow, and a comforter, and next thing he knows, he’s wrapped very firmly in a demon and blanket burrito.
“You still smell good,” Kuro says, as if the compliment will win him enough brownie points to keep this position. He wiggles his other arm, just enough, and positions it beneath Kenma’s head a little better. …It works a lot better. Kenma’s going to wake up a sweaty mess, but it’s warm and strangely comforting to have another naked body pressed up so tightly against him. “So, did you forget that I broke your jar of blood?”
“I will kick you out of bed. Just take a stupid nap with me, Kuro,” Kenma grumbles.
“Sleep well, Kenma,” Kuro replies and presses a kiss against his hair.