Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was warmer than usual.
Or perhaps it was the world around them imitating them — reflecting what burned within.

The makeshift futon was there, but time had made it more than a refuge.

It was now an altar.

The dark wooden bowl rested beside them, filled to the brim with camellia oil.
The first touch was no different from the others.

But something was new.

Permission.

Yone approached slowly, his eyes locked on Yi’s, as if every blink was a renewed vote of trust.
The hands came first — fingertips, light, almost shy, resting upon the face.
And Yi… didn’t pull back.

On the contrary.
He closed his eyes.
Leaned into the touch.
Like someone accepting a prayer.

"Are you okay?" Yone murmured, his voice already hoarse with anticipation.

"Now I am." Yi replied.

Their lips met with familiarity and hunger.

Long kisses, hot, wet.
Tongues searching each other with thirst, dancing in an unhurried cadence.
The hands moved like someone deciphering sacred ground — exploring shoulders, ribs, and hips with the delicacy of a prayer and the boldness of desire.

Yi sighed softly against Yone’s mouth, fingers tangling in the light strands of his hair, pulling with impatient tenderness.

Yone, in turn, traced paths with his lips along the other’s neck, whispering ancient verses at every sensitive spot — especially behind the ears.

Hearing Akana’s hoarse moan nearly unraveled him with lust.

Frankly, they’d been hard ever since they entered the cave.

The clothes slid off slowly,
like petals falling from a night flower.

Nothing was torn — everything was revealed.

Uncovered.

Savored.

Kanmei’s face traveled down his beloved’s bare abdomen.

And oh, gods — he was salivating.

"You are… beautiful," he whispered reverently, hands resting on Yi’s waist.

"I know," Yi replied, with a crooked smile and half-lidded eyes, irony and fire in his tone.

Yone laughed against his skin before continuing the descent, leaving kisses like warm trails along the way.

Akana’s body was a temple carved by experience.

Slender, yet firm.

Delicate, but never fragile.
A man in his fullness.
A living masterpiece.

Yone wanted to paint him with flower ink. And something deliciously indecent.

Sighing, the swordsman arched his back, placing his hands between Yone’s hair and horns, as if guiding him with silent authority.

Straight to the base of the penis, where arousal was already rising, seeking relief.

Yone didn’t hesitate.

He parted the inner thighs firmly, pressing gently before planting kisses below the navel — until reaching the testicles.

There, his tongue slowly ascended the length of the erection, savoring.

Teasing.

Every gesture was a wordless prayer.

Yone offered himself, body and soul, to the deity that was Yi.

And he, eyes rolled back and lips bitten, surrendered in a chorus of low moans — a music only the two of them knew how to compose.

Yone wrapped his lips around the head, circling it with his tongue until he tasted the bittersweet nectar on his own lips.

“Yone…!”

The sound escaped Yi’s teeth, still trying to hold back moans with a thread of composure.

Trying — and failing, adorably.

And there, Kanmei understood.

The sound of his name in that tone.

The taste.
The call.
The need.

And oh, gods…

He loved that man with every atom of his existence.

His mouth descended more boldly.
But was interrupted.

Or rather — repositioned.

Yi pushed him firmly and settled atop him with feline ease.

Sometimes Yone forgot just how strong his beloved was.

Far beyond him. Far beyond Yasuo.

Beyond any swordsman.

When Yi sat on his face, Yone rolled his eyes at the delicious indecency of it all.

Sacred and profane.

Devastating and divine.

When Yi sat on him, it was as if the heavens reversed — as if the altar gained a life of its own and demanded absolute devotion.

Yone didn’t resist.

Nor did he want to.

There, between Akana’s firm thighs, he found a wet, throbbing paradise. Anchored by fingers digging into soft skin, guided by sighs from above.

His tongue was firm, patient, exploring.

Sliding into the tender entrance, tasting eagerly.

Drawing slow circles, then faster, alternating pressure and softness like a musician who knows every chord,
every note that makes the soul shudder.

And Yi…

Ah, Yi.

Bent over himself, eyes half-open and hands tangled in his lover’s white hair, was the perfect image of divine ruin.
Long hair cascading like silk down his back, making a little chaos of white strands.

His thighs trembled, his belly contracted in waves, and his moans — low, sweet, irrepressible — made the cave air vibrate like the taut strings of an ancient instrument.

"More..." he whispered, voice thin between desire and delirium.

Yone obeyed, without hesitation.

Deeper.

Firmer.

More of him.

His fingers, slick with camellia oil, found their way. It wasn’t the most ergonomic position for it, but he didn’t care.
His hand slid down Yi’s lower back, between his cheeks, and plunged alongside his tongue. Just one digit, but enough to make his beloved tremble.

The sounds Yi made now weren’t words, but fragments of pure pleasure, ragged breaths and contained pleas.
When he rolled his eyes and arched his body, Yone knew he was guiding him to the edge —
with his mouth, with his fingers, with his heart pounding along.

Even so, Akana’s fingers tightened around his own cock, restraining himself. And Yone grumbled at that.
Especially when Yi lifted off him and he — futilely — still tried to chase him with his mouth.

"So hungry," Yi murmured, lips trembling between a sigh and a tease.

And Yone… smiled, because it was true. Opened his eyes, panting, lips still glistening, gaze drunk with desire.
But he said nothing.

He surrendered.

Submissive to the living altar above him.

Yi slid down slowly, thighs still trembling, fingers leaving subtle marks on his lover’s pale skin.

His hand ran across Yone’s chest — slow, exploratory — as if mapping newly discovered land.

His half-lidded gaze burned.

He took in every muscle, every line.

Yi loved those broad shoulders.

The contrast with the narrower waist.

And even more, seeing the long cock standing up, calling for him. Hard, throbbing, wet at the tip.

Admiring Yone from above was priceless.

If he were a little more desperate, he’d already be riding him.

But not yet.

His kisses descended with controlled urgency — a hot drag of lips and teeth down the throat, chest, belly rising and falling with sighs.

He nibbled with intent. Licked the inside of his thigh as if wanting to redraw it with saliva.

When he reached the base of the cock, he smiled with restrained mischief.

Yi wasn’t the talkative type, of course. But his thoughts? Oh, those ran wild.

"So hard for me..." he thought to himself, running his tongue along the shaft, unhurried.

Yone arched his body, but Yi held his hips down.

A command wrapped in honey.
And Kanmei obeyed.

Akana’s mouth descended eagerly, taking only the tip at first, playing with the rhythm, alternating between teasing slowness and sudden tongue thrusts.

Then, he took it all at once — hot, wet, tight — making Yone let out a moan that echoed like muffled thunder in the cave.

Kanmei’s head fell back, teeth clenched, voice caught in his throat. It almost sounded like a growl.

"Yi… for the love of the gods..."

But Akana just looked up at him, eyes teary and intense, and went down again.

Each movement of his mouth was a blend of liturgy and lust.

Cheeks flushed, lips sealing around the flesh with firm affection, as if savoring a forbidden fruit — and choosing it as his feast.

His hands held the base, pumping with steady rhythm, while his tongue swirled, pressed, caressed every exposed nerve.

Yone was on fire.

His body trembled, his belly contracted in suppressed spasms, his cock pulsed in his lover’s mouth. His fingers clenched the flowered futon — until Yi stopped.

Stopped.

"Yi... for hell’s sake..." Yone panted, almost laughing in desperation.

"Not yet..." was all he whispered. Soft, loving, and full of mischief.

He climbed back up, lips swollen, gaze fierce and fevered.

Straddled Yone with the same ease one ascends a throne.

His body still damp, white strands clinging to his skin with sweat that shouldn’t exist in the spiritual realm.
The camellia oil bowl was almost entirely poured between them.

Making a mess between abdomens and pelvises.

The oil flowed between them as if the night itself anointed them.

Skin against skin, hot, slippery, perfumed with flower and lust.

"You’re trembling..." Yone murmured, loving like a surrendered man, his voice hoarse with lust and tenderness.
His hand touched Yi’s face, caressed his cheek, made him sigh.

Akana slid two fingers down his thigh, gathering excess oil and bringing them to the entrance pulsing with anticipation.

The look he gave Kanmei was pure challenge.

"And you talk too much…"

The touch was slow. One digit. Then two. And Yone watched, eyes melted, as if witnessing an indecent miracle.
The way Yi prepared himself… was like watching fire mold itself to fit a blade.

Yone moaned at the sight — barely noticing when his hand instinctively moved to grip his own cock, trying to relieve the unbearable tension.

"No."

The word came soft, but with command beneath.
Yi’s hand grabbed his with firmness and pushed it back against the futon.
And Yone grumbled alone — Enchanting.

Yi positioned himself.

Guided the tip of the cock against himself.

Didn’t enter.
Not yet.
Just played — sliding the head there, side to side, biting his own lip at how hard Yone was.

"Yi… please…"

It was almost a cry.

And it was enough.

With a choked moan, Yi descended.

The cock penetrated inch by inch, with delicious, wet resistance.

Yi was tight.

Hot.

Like living silk wrapping around Yone’s cock.

He descended inch by inch, abdominal muscles trembling, eyes closing halfway.

But he didn’t stop.

Not until he’d swallowed every bit of that insane erection that seemed made just for him.

They both sighed — the most delicious feeling they’d ever known.
And there he stayed.

Still.

Just feeling.

Yone’s pulse inside him.

The way he squirmed, how his eyes glowed with pure pleasure.

Kanmei exhaled deeply. He closed his eyes for a second.
And honestly? He’d been trying not to cum since he saw his beloved preparing to take him.

Yi moved for the first time.

A slow, almost indecent grind, like he was trying to mold himself once again to the shape that filled him.
Yone let out a long, low moan, trapped between his teeth.

Kanmei’s eyes were teary.

Not from pain.
But from the unbearable beauty of seeing Yi like this.
Riding him.
Taking him.

Yi rolled his hips.

Once, twice.

Testing the angle, feeling every nerve ignite.

The oil made everything slip, their bodies gleaming under the cave’s dim light, and each thrust was an explosion of heat.

The pace increased gradually.

Nothing abrupt.

Everything meticulously calculated.

Yi rode with lethal precision — like someone wielding an ancient secret.

Yone, in turn, gripped his lover’s thighs, then ass. Hands sliding between sweat and oil, guiding him, encouraging him.

His body arched, seeking more depth, more friction, more of him.

But Yi only gave what he wanted.

As much as he wanted.

"Yi…" he gasped, half-laughing, half-crying.

Akana leaned forward.

Kissed him hard.

Their tongues collided in a feverish clash.

And then, Yi bit his lower lip.

"I want to see you come undone."

And then it truly began.

The movements were now firm.

Fast.

Rough, yet beautiful.

Flesh met flesh with wet slaps.

Moans intertwined.

The sound of skin against skin filled the space like a carnal mantra.

Yone gripped Yi’s hips tightly, thrusting upward, making the Akana’s body jolt in waves of pure pleasure.
He shoved his cock into him hungrily, burying it in soft flesh until the head was grinding against Yi’s prostate with terrifying precision.

“Gods…! Yone…!”

The cry was a sob of sheer ecstasy.

Yi’s eyes shut tightly, his head falling back, spine arching in a shiver that rippled through his whole body.
He was close.

Yone felt it.

Felt the clenching around his cock.

Felt the trembling.
Felt the bliss building like a storm.
He wrapped Yi in his arms, turned him over gently — without pulling out — and took control.
His hips moved with force.

Deep, full thrusts.
Each one pulling desperate, broken moans from the lover beneath him.

“You’re everything to me…”

The words came between gasps.
Between thrusts.

Between frantic declarations.

“I love you so much it hurts…”

And his mouth was lost in the curve of Yi’s neck, biting, kissing, whispering promises.

His right hand played with Yi’s left nipple, pinching, rubbing.

Making the Akana roll his eyes in overwhelming pleasure.

Yi wrapped his legs around him, pulling him deeper.

One hand dug into Yone’s defined back, the other stroking himself in time with the thrusts.

Bodies pressed together.

Breaths entangled.

The end was near.

They both knew it.

— “Come with me…” Yi whispered, the words broken by moans.

Yone groaned loudly.

Buried himself to the hilt.

Thrust again—once, twice, three times—

And then, he was gone.

The heat exploded inside Yi. His release came intense, hot, pulsing into the Akana and flooding his insides.
Yone’s whole body trembled, back arched, muscles taut.

And as his climax filled his lover, Yi came too—a cry caught between his teeth, his body convulsing beneath him, his own essence spilling between their bellies. Soaking both Yone and himself.

It lasted forever.

Or maybe the world simply stopped spinning.

Silence.

Only the sound of water again.

Of soft sighs.

Of tired, blissful smiles.

Yone collapsed on top of him, still inside.

Their legs tangled together.

The oil, the semen, the sweat… all mixed.

A desecrated altar.

Or perhaps… one far too sacred.

“Yi…”

“Hm?” came the lazy sound against his shoulder.

“I… suppose I won’t be able to walk for the next few minutes.”

Yi laughed.

And kissed his neck.

“Good. Stay here with me.”