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By the time they get back to the hotel, the pain in Hiei’s arm has gone from stinging to dull, and he’s more than ready to ignore it and tumble into bed. Taming the dragon--properly this time--has taken more of a toll than he’s strictly willing to admit, and he wants to be behind closed doors before he shows any sign of weakness to anyone.
Anyone but Kurama, of course, but even Kurama seems to be paying him little mind. Hiei frowns at his back as they leave the elevator and make their way to the suite. Kurama’s expression is troubled and distracted, never a good sign the night before a fight.
Kurama murmurs quiet goodnights to Yusuke and Kuwabara before slipping into the room he and Hiei share, and Hiei spares the two humans a nod before following, closing the door behind him. As an afterthought, he locks it. Kurama sits down on his bed, staring at the hotel phone, and Hiei considers, briefly, asking what he’s thinking. After a moment, he thinks better of it, and heads into the en suite for a shower instead.
The hot water clears his head and soothes the last of the pain from his arm. He sluices the blood away, letting the dragon branded there become visible, starkly black against his pale skin. He touches it and it bristles under his fingers, still reluctant and buckling against its taming. It settles, though, and Hiei lets himself relax.
When he emerges back into the room, a towel around his waist and steam billowing around him, Kurama has changed into simple sleeping pants and a loose white tunic shirt, and is speaking softly into the phone. His tone makes it immediately clear he’s speaking to his mother, but he meets Hiei’s eyes for a moment, and something in his expression lets Hiei know he’s welcome to stay. “No, Mother, I’m not quite sure when we’ll be home. There’s a bit of weather that’s making travel a little unpredictable.” Hiei dresses, sitting cross-legged on his own bed across from Kurama, and waits. “Yes, of course I’ll be careful.” His features soften, and he swallows visibly. “I love you too. Very, very much. Goodnight.”
He lays the phone down in its cradle with a shaking hand, and Hiei arches an eyebrow. “That sounded final,” he says.
Kurama glances at him, his face carefully blank. “Did it?”
Hiei narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t play dumb with me, fox, it doesn’t suit you. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Kurama looks down at Hiei’s right arm, at the dragon shifting subtly along his skin. “THat should be covered, shouldn’t it?”
“Let it breathe.” Hiei lets his glare deepen, even though there’s no real malice in it, and he knows Kurama can tell. “Don’t change the subject. Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
For a moment he thinks Kurama will deflect again, but the other demon simply shifts to face him, pulling his own legs onto his bed to mirror Hiei’s position. “I need to ask you to do something for me.”
Hiei frowns. “You can ask. I won’t make any promises.”
“I may need you to.” Kurama takes a deep breath. “There’s a chance that both Karasu and I will make it out of the ring tomorrow.”
Hiei racks his memory and places a face--or at least a mask--to the name. “And?”
Kurama holds his gaze, calm and steady. “And if we do, I need you to make sure I’m dead if there’s even the slightest chance we might lose the tournament.”
That takes Hiei off guard. Absolutely not catches in his throat, but “Why?” is what comes out of his mouth.
“Because he’s made it clear to me that if his team is victorious, I’ll be his prize,” Kurama says, his voice bitter. “And I’ll be dead before I let that happen.”
No, Hiei realizes, it’s not bitterness in his voice. It’s fear, audible fear, and it sounds so foreign to Kurama’s calm, serene, teasing voice that Hiei almost misses it. “Kurama.” He schools his voice to steadiness. “What happened.”
Kurama runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture that Hiei rarely sees from him. “He and Bui cornered me after the semi-finals.” His voice is dull. “He did--something, held me still, and I couldn’t fight him--”
Hiei’s blood runs cold. “He raped you?”
“No,” Kurama says, but Hiei doesn’t miss the way he flinches at the word. “But only because he wants to beat me at my best. After that, he’ll show no such restraint.”
He’s trembling, visibly enough that Hiei can see it. “I’ve been someone’s plaything before. I won’t do it again. I can’t. I can’t.”
His voice is shaking, breathy and catching, and Hiei realizes with a start that he’s dangerously close to a panic attack. “Breathe. Kurama, breathe.” He leaves his bed and kneels in front of Kurama, taking hold of both of his wrists and squeezing them. “Take a breath.” Kurama does, shuddering, and Hiei tightens and loosens his grip in a slow, even rhythm. “I won’t kill you, Kurama,” he says, keeping his voice low. Kurama makes a soft, almost despairing sound, but Hiei presses on. “But I will kill him.”
Kurama laughs, harshly and without humor. “You can’t. The rules--”
“Damn the rules,” Hiei snaps, surprising himself with the ferocity in his voice. “He will not have you, Kurama, but I won’t kill you to ensure that. If that leaves me only one other option, I’ll take it, even if it means killing everyone else in the damn stadium.”
He feels Kurama stiffen slightly, his pulse jumping under Hiei’s thumbs. “You’d do that?”
THere’s no disbelief in his voice, only surprise, and what sounds like fragile hope. “Yes,” Hiei says, and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s true, though he’s never allowed himself to think it before this moment.
Kurama closes his eyes and sighs, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. His head drops until his forehead rests against Hiei’s. “Thank you,” he says, his voice soft enough that Hiei has to strain to hear him.
The intimacy and closeness of their position strikes Hiei then, sudden and unnerving. The energy between them changes, crackling with a sudden heat, and Hiei feels, more than hears, Kurama’s quick inhale. “Hiei?” His voice is a breath, just as quiet as it was before, but his tone so very, very different.
“Kurama.” They haven’t been this close since the night they’d robbed Reikai’s vault, the last night they’d slept together before Kurama’s betrayal.
Hiei had vowed never to trust Kurama again. What a fool he’d been. Kurama, thief though he was, had more honor and loyalty than Hiei could have comprehended. He meets Kurama’s eyes and finds them hot and intense, his pupils blown black. “Hiei,” Kurama says again, a low whisper, “I know I shouldn’t ask--I have no right to--”
“Ask,” Hiei says, because Kurama owes him that much, to ask for it.
Kurama’s gaze is full of heat. “Take me tonight,” he says, and Hiei feels the tug of arousal low in his gut, warm and familiar. “I want to feel you when I step into the ring tomorrow.”
The image of that is enough to set Hiei’s blood to burning, and he rises up to kiss him. Kurama is ready, catches his hips and tugs him up and onto the bed. Hiei shifts easily to pin him, but he doesn’t let the kiss go rough, and that’s strange, new and unfamiliar--before, their kisses had been harsh and painful, almost a struggle, more teeth and nails than lips. But now, strangely, Hiei can’t bring himself to be rough. He cups Kurama’s jaw in one hand and curls the other around the back of his neck, kisses him deep and slow and gentle, and the difference is startling. He can feel the low embers of arousal and knows he could ignite them with a spark, but he feels a desire to take his time, to break Kurama with tenderness instead of teeth.
Kurama must notice the change, because he breaks the kiss, looking up at Hiei with dark-eyed bemusement, his expression torn somewhere between arousal and uncertainty. “Hiei?”
“Hush.” Hiei bites at his bottom lip. Kurama moans softly, but Hiei doesn’t push him further. “I’m trying something new.”
“I noticed,” Kurama says, but he’s smiling, a laugh in his eyes for the first time all night. “I like it.”
Hiei dips his head, brushes his lips over Kurama’s exposed collarbone and feels the answering shudder, Kurama’s fingers gripping into his back. “Good.”
They don’t speak much after that, and Hiei takes his time, stripping them both and relearning Kurama’s body slowly. He finds that Kurama is just as sensitive to a gentle touch as to a rough one--more, in some places--and smiles at each soft moan and gasp of breath.
By the time Hiei digs into the bedside table for the bottle of lubricant he’s sure the hotel has put there, Kurama is pliant and shaking under his touch. Hiei coats his fingers and nudges Kurama’s knees apart, finds his target easily. Kurama’s breath hitches as Hiei pushes a finger inside him, and Hiei can’t help a shudder of his own at the tightness. “Been awhile, fox?”
“No one since you,” Kurama says, holding Hiei’s gaze, and Hiei grins, letting his teeth show, feral and possessive.
“Good.”
He works Kurama open slowly, taking more care than he ever has, and realizes only when he’s fucking Kurama gently on three fingers that it’s because, for once, he doesn’t want to cause him pain. Kurama, on the other hand, seems to have other ideas. “Hiei,” he gasps, his nails digging marks into Hiei’s shoulders, “Hiei, please.”
There’s desperation in his voice to match Hiei’s own, and Hiei drags his fingers free, taking care to brush Kurama’s prostate as he does so. Kurama pushes the bottle of lube into his hands and Hiei slicks himself carefully, too hard now to dare take his time, and presses in slowly, half an inch at a time.
Kurama is trembling by the time he’s fully seated and Hiei brushes damp strands of Kurama’s hair back, kisses his temple. Kurama turns his head for a kiss and Hiei meets him, capturing his lips as he starts to move.
It’s agonizing to keep his thrusts slow, to stop himself from slamming in hard, but Hiei holds onto his control, moves in slow, deep strokes. Kurama, flushed and shuddering, makes a frustrated sound. “Come on, please,” he gasps. “Harder--I thought I was going to feel you tomorrow.”
Hiei doesn’t take the bait. “You’ll feel me tomorrow,” he says, bending his head to lick at the sensitive hollow behind Kurama’s earlobe. “But you won’t feel it and hurt. You’ll step into the ring feeling stretched and fucked and filled, and you’ll remember exactly how good it felt.”
Kurama moans, arching, but Hiei keeps talking. The spark in his veins has caught now, and he fans it into flame. He can feel the dragon traveling over his skin, its fierce lust and power mingling with Hiei’s, an ancient, heady desire. “You’ll step into the ring with the memory of me inside you, with my scent on your skin, and that bastard will know he’ll never possess you, not the way that I can. He’ll know that with all the force he could muster, he could never take you apart the way I can without causing you a single moment of pain.”
“Hiei,” Kurama says, almost a sob, his legs trembling where they’re wrapped around Hiei’s waist, and Hiei lets go, slamming in hard. He feels Kurama come, tightening impossibly around him as he cries out, and he muffles his own groan, coming inside him in long, shuddering pulses.
They lie there in shaking silence, the sound of ragged breathing the only sound in the cooling air. Hiei feels the heavy, exhausted satisfaction of a good fight, and wonders if Kurama feels the same. He lifts his head to ask and freezes, seeing bright moisture in Kurama’s eyes. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. I’m good.” Kurama gives him a shaky smile. “That was just--intense. Not what I was expecting.” He trails his fingertips through the sweat on Hiei’s back, and Hiei leans contentedly into the touch. “You really meant it, didn’t you?” he says quietly. “You’d fight a whole stadium just to keep me out of Karasu’s hands?”
“I’d expect you to help,” Hiei says, but he’s just trying to save face, and one glance at Kurama’s face shows Kurama knows it.
“And if he kills me?” Kurama asks.
His tone is teasing, his smile not quite faded from his face, but Hiei knows the question is real. He props himself on his elbows. Kurama’s expression would, he thinks, be unreadable to anyone else, but Hiei can see the tenderness there, mixed with uncertainty and hope and something a tiny, barely-audible voice in Hiei’s heart says might even be love. “Then I’d go to Reikai, and I’d get you back.”
“You’d follow me that far?”
“Farther,” Hiei says, and turns off the light. He has no doubt Kurama can still see his face, but it seems less intense, in the dark.
“Ah.” He can still hear a smile in Kurama’s voice. “Then I suppose it won’t matter that we won’t have time for any meaningful goodbyes tomorrow.”
“Correct.” Despite himself, Hiei searches out Kurama’s hand and laces their fingers together. “And in any case, there’s nothing to say.”
Kurama’s fingers tighten. “No?”
“No.” Hiei rolls off of him. Kurama remains where he is, and Hiei snorts, reaching out and pulling Kurama against him, curling his front around the length of Kurama’s back. “Sentimental idiot,” he says, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “Do you really need me to say it?”
“That depends,” Kurama says. “If I did, would you?”
Hiei thinks about it. “Yes.”
“Then no, I don’t.”
There’s an audible grin in Kurama’s voice, and Hiei groans. The day he would stop falling into Kurama’s traps was, apparently, still at least one more away. “I take it back.”
“No take-backs.”
It’s childish and stubborn, and Hiei muffles his own grin in the warm skin between Kurama’s shoulderblades. “Go to sleep, fox.”
“Goodnight, Hiei” Kurama’s voice is sated and content, all traces of the night’s earlier fear gone as he relaxes back into Hiei’s arms. Satisfied and comfortable, Hiei sleeps.