We Of Nine Tails WIP
Blue and nytekit complained about lacking YYH fic, so im here to lend an eye to what I’m playing with in my sand box. This is the most recent.
Haunted House AU. Horror with sexy tiems. This is an old, old WIP that I’ve been toying with and reviving in between working on my Thor Epic.
We of Nine Tails
Dull light. Confused, Kuronue shifted. Away from those claws and the welcoming hot tongue. That light. Pressing against his eyelids. Insistent. A warm gush of air and soft lips, hot tongue and hotter mouth as his head was tipped back, mouth pried open, explored. Sieged like he was a thing, a toy, a present.
Fingernail-no, claws scrapping lightly down the middle of his back.
It felt good.
He felt owned. Like a possession. Yes. But he was comfortable with it, welcoming like it was his choice. And when the pale eyelashes of his lover brushed against his cheeks, he almost giggled, squired, giddiness rising.
Oh how he had missed…
Missed…
Why couldn’t he open his eyes?
A low, wining sound. Canine and shrill; warning. A growl; threat.
He had...to...remember...
A pleading lick against his cheek, fingertips against his cheeks and his back pressing, claws tickling against his skin. Long, long silken hair so light it was like water and yet less than such brushing against his skin. Like silk, like spider webs.
A door slammed loud enough for Kuronue to jerk. Suddenly awake, thrown from his dream. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his heart in his own ears, pulse furious and limbs shaking with cold, with hunger, with sadness. Had someone else chosen to use the house for shelter too? He wouldn’t begrudge the other homeless shelter, not in this weather.
But there was only silence, the sound of snow weighing down limbs of trees until they creaked and bent, shook themselves free of the burden. Wind howling.
Nothing.
Quiet.
Yet Kuronue had come to distrust such silences. “Hello?” he called.
No answer. Only his own panting.
“This is ridiculous.” Kuronue looked to his right, squinting. He had barricaded himself in what might have once been a bedroom, and there was even a bed there, old, dusty and full of dead leaves. Half the garden seemed to like this room better than the rest of the whole property. The moon was full, and the window was still intact, dirty glass circling the full moon with a ring of grime and mud.
He lifted his arm and pulled back his hoodie’s sleeve to check the time. The watch was a cheap child’s toy, with cartoon arms for the hands. 3am. “Of course it would be three in the morning, wouldn’t it...”
Falling back against the bed, Kuronue pulled up the old sheets and his own, light but portable comforter up over his head. He was tired, it was cold, and this was an old, long abandoned house. Old houses made noses, he remembered vaguely, having grown up on the streets.
He bit at his nails as he breathed into his palms to warm them.
The man at the soup kitchen who had mentioned this place had made a joke of it being infested with kitsune. Specifically one angry one.
Kuronue had laughed, and the old man had given him directions without qualm. He hadn’t thought any more of it.
But the dream…
Kuronue fell asleep again, eventually, with no further interruptions. Only the quite shifting of the old house, and the annoying tick of his watch.
II
Kuronue woke with the comforter still over his head and the sun making his own little dome of peace and warmth seem fragile and, ultimately, futile. Grumbling a little, he pushed the blankets down and stared at the mould on the ceiling, the vines trying their best to punch their way through it. He sighed, Wished he could sleep forever.
His stomach disagreed.
He checked the time.
Swore.
The soup van would have gone already.
Groaning he rolled over onto his stomach, pressed his face into the pillow (grimy and smelling like rotting cotton and cat piss) and sighed. Well, it wasn’t like he had any other pressing matters to attend to. Not right now. He could check out the rest of the house, maybe poke his head over the back fence and see if anyone had a vegetable garden with something worth stealing in it.
Yes.
That would do.
Lifting his head, Kuronue pushed himself up, out of his cocoon and into the cold-
“FUCKING HELL!”
There was an old, plush fox in the doorway to the bedroom. The now unbarricaded, wide open and exposed bedroom. Kuronue picked himself up off the floor and pressed himself against the wall, staring wide eyed at the fox. The creepy fox with its white and fur and gold eyes. One of which was hanging limp halfway down its jowl.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” he asked, gasping a little, heart hammering again. He’d barricaded the door from the inside for fucks sake. The window was jammed shut (rusted to all hell) and the old chair had been more than enough to scrape against the rotting floorboards and at least give Kuronue some warning before some drug addict and/or thug assailed him in his sleep and stole his shit.
But apparently he needn’t worry about that because either the fox had either shoved the door open itself or someone really unstable was fucking with him.
It took him a full hour to move, and even then all he did was kick the fox away and slam the door closed, take off his shoe and wedge it beneath the door, then put the ripped computer chair with one useful wheel underneath the door handle.
III
“Any kitsune present?” he tried again, tentatively. He’d been staring at the door and clutching his go bag like a tweaked out addict with a loan shark on their tail for the better part of an hour, nigh burning a hole in the damned thing.
There was no reply, of course. The wind and snow had settled, only for his stomach to take over instead.
“No, of course not.”
---
There is more but that's all you get to see for now. *wink*
Haunted House AU. Horror with sexy tiems. This is an old, old WIP that I’ve been toying with and reviving in between working on my Thor Epic.
We of Nine Tails
Dull light. Confused, Kuronue shifted. Away from those claws and the welcoming hot tongue. That light. Pressing against his eyelids. Insistent. A warm gush of air and soft lips, hot tongue and hotter mouth as his head was tipped back, mouth pried open, explored. Sieged like he was a thing, a toy, a present.
Fingernail-no, claws scrapping lightly down the middle of his back.
It felt good.
He felt owned. Like a possession. Yes. But he was comfortable with it, welcoming like it was his choice. And when the pale eyelashes of his lover brushed against his cheeks, he almost giggled, squired, giddiness rising.
Oh how he had missed…
Missed…
Why couldn’t he open his eyes?
A low, wining sound. Canine and shrill; warning. A growl; threat.
He had...to...remember...
A pleading lick against his cheek, fingertips against his cheeks and his back pressing, claws tickling against his skin. Long, long silken hair so light it was like water and yet less than such brushing against his skin. Like silk, like spider webs.
A door slammed loud enough for Kuronue to jerk. Suddenly awake, thrown from his dream. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his heart in his own ears, pulse furious and limbs shaking with cold, with hunger, with sadness. Had someone else chosen to use the house for shelter too? He wouldn’t begrudge the other homeless shelter, not in this weather.
But there was only silence, the sound of snow weighing down limbs of trees until they creaked and bent, shook themselves free of the burden. Wind howling.
Nothing.
Quiet.
Yet Kuronue had come to distrust such silences. “Hello?” he called.
No answer. Only his own panting.
“This is ridiculous.” Kuronue looked to his right, squinting. He had barricaded himself in what might have once been a bedroom, and there was even a bed there, old, dusty and full of dead leaves. Half the garden seemed to like this room better than the rest of the whole property. The moon was full, and the window was still intact, dirty glass circling the full moon with a ring of grime and mud.
He lifted his arm and pulled back his hoodie’s sleeve to check the time. The watch was a cheap child’s toy, with cartoon arms for the hands. 3am. “Of course it would be three in the morning, wouldn’t it...”
Falling back against the bed, Kuronue pulled up the old sheets and his own, light but portable comforter up over his head. He was tired, it was cold, and this was an old, long abandoned house. Old houses made noses, he remembered vaguely, having grown up on the streets.
He bit at his nails as he breathed into his palms to warm them.
The man at the soup kitchen who had mentioned this place had made a joke of it being infested with kitsune. Specifically one angry one.
Kuronue had laughed, and the old man had given him directions without qualm. He hadn’t thought any more of it.
But the dream…
Kuronue fell asleep again, eventually, with no further interruptions. Only the quite shifting of the old house, and the annoying tick of his watch.
II
Kuronue woke with the comforter still over his head and the sun making his own little dome of peace and warmth seem fragile and, ultimately, futile. Grumbling a little, he pushed the blankets down and stared at the mould on the ceiling, the vines trying their best to punch their way through it. He sighed, Wished he could sleep forever.
His stomach disagreed.
He checked the time.
Swore.
The soup van would have gone already.
Groaning he rolled over onto his stomach, pressed his face into the pillow (grimy and smelling like rotting cotton and cat piss) and sighed. Well, it wasn’t like he had any other pressing matters to attend to. Not right now. He could check out the rest of the house, maybe poke his head over the back fence and see if anyone had a vegetable garden with something worth stealing in it.
Yes.
That would do.
Lifting his head, Kuronue pushed himself up, out of his cocoon and into the cold-
“FUCKING HELL!”
There was an old, plush fox in the doorway to the bedroom. The now unbarricaded, wide open and exposed bedroom. Kuronue picked himself up off the floor and pressed himself against the wall, staring wide eyed at the fox. The creepy fox with its white and fur and gold eyes. One of which was hanging limp halfway down its jowl.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” he asked, gasping a little, heart hammering again. He’d barricaded the door from the inside for fucks sake. The window was jammed shut (rusted to all hell) and the old chair had been more than enough to scrape against the rotting floorboards and at least give Kuronue some warning before some drug addict and/or thug assailed him in his sleep and stole his shit.
But apparently he needn’t worry about that because either the fox had either shoved the door open itself or someone really unstable was fucking with him.
It took him a full hour to move, and even then all he did was kick the fox away and slam the door closed, take off his shoe and wedge it beneath the door, then put the ripped computer chair with one useful wheel underneath the door handle.
III
“Any kitsune present?” he tried again, tentatively. He’d been staring at the door and clutching his go bag like a tweaked out addict with a loan shark on their tail for the better part of an hour, nigh burning a hole in the damned thing.
There was no reply, of course. The wind and snow had settled, only for his stomach to take over instead.
“No, of course not.”
---
There is more but that's all you get to see for now. *wink*