It’s as much the fact that Saru takes him deeper still combined with the spark of intense pleasure as Saru’s finger rubs against his prostate when he crooks his finger that has Yata tensing and then spilling down the vampire’s throat with a strangled cry, his entire body trembling from the force of it.
He only lingers there a moment, though, not wanting to choke off Saru’s airway for too long, before he pulls out. And then slides down to collapse to his knees in front of Saru, slumping forward against him, his legs no longer able to keep him upright.
He swallows, hands dropping to his sides when Misaki sinks down to his knees, eyes opening to watch him as he licks his own lips again, catching anything that's left there.
His own expression is a little dazed as he tries to catch his breath, but watching Saru lick his lips like that has him reaching out and dragging him in for a deep kiss. Claiming and possessive, especially when he can still taste himself on Saru’s lips.
Saruhiko moves when he's tugged forward, shifting to stretch out and pin Misaki under him as he kisses back, hands settling on either side of his head.
He lets Saru push him back, more interesting in the deep kiss than now they’re positioned right now. One hand slides up to tangle in Saru’s hair once more as his lips part against the vampire’s own, his tongue teasing against the sharp prick of a fang. His other hand slides down the line of Saru’s spine, wanting him close.
“Have I mentioned yet that you’re incredible? Because I think I should have, but you keep derailing all my trains of thought.”
He can't help but groan at that, the sound muffled into the kiss as he lets Saru grind down against him, his hands sliding over exposed skin. Teasing him, urging him to do as he liked for now. He hadn't expected Saru to open up as quickly as he had but he was hardly going to complain about it either. not when this was a side of Saru he'd never gotten the chance to see.
"Mmm. So do you. Did it help?" He smiles crookedly up at the vampire stretched out over him, then nips at his lower lip in return, a prick of fang against his skin. "You didn't take too much. Do you want more?"
"I want every last drop." He breathes the words, fingers curling into his palms as he inhales a shaky breath, his hips rolling to keep that friction going, trying to use it as focus so he doesn't lose himself to the craving.
"It's different when we drink.." He continues quietly, eyes closing as he speaks, so he can focus on the words. "When we find someone worth drinking from..."
Because no one's ever mentioned anything like this before, so he's not sure what Saru's talking about. Then again, the only purebloods to feed from him before this were King and Kusanagi, and occasionally Anna, in an emergency.
Since he can sense Saru struggling with his control, he rolls them instead, until Saru is the one beneath him and Yata stretched out atop him. He lets his thigh slide between Saru's legs, grinding down lightly against him - not to distract him but to give him something to focus on other than his thirst, if that was what he was having trouble with.
When they roll over, his hips arch, rocking up against Misaki's thigh.
"..Misaki" It's a quiet groan and then he tries to focus, his arms wrapping around Misaki, nails scraping over his back. "...You saw how he was about Totsuka." And Munakata, but that wasn't something he was going to bring up here.
"It's like an addiction. We can feed off others and it still provides what we need but it's not enough. It's never enough but we can survive with it."
There's something in Saru's words that has Yata stilling, because yes he'd watched his King unravel in the aftermath of Totsuka's death. Of his struggles to even continue on after that, and how vengeance became the only tether he had. Not even Homra had been enough anymore.
It still hurt, so he pushes that thought away quickly.
Reaching up, he threads his fingers through Saru's hair again and tugs to get his attention, waiting until Saru focuses on his face through the haze of whatever's riding him right now.
"...It wouldn't have made a difference if I'd said anything before." The words are quiet, Fushimi opening his eyes to look up at Misaki before he turns his head to the side, his hands just sliding along Misaki's back before they drop.
Saru might as well have stabbed him, with how sharp those words cut. He remains frozen for a moment before he drops his forehead to Saru's chest, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged.
"...No wonder you hate me so much."
Why hadn't he ever said anything? Did he really think Yata never would have listened to him?
"...I never hated you." It's quiet, simple, fingers sliding into Misaki's hair as he lies there with the other on his chest.
"I hated him." Fushimi continues, his voice still even. "You pushed into my life, made me feel like I was worth something beyond what everyone else saw and then we met him. I would have been fine just being beside you, watching you, but the first time you offered him your blood? I knew it was over."
Because how would he have been able to compete with someone like Suoh Mikoto. He knew better, knew his own limits and as time passed, had found another path that worked for his own needs.
“You are worth something. You always have been, Saru. I’ve never stopped seeing that. Or missing you beside me.” His voice is quiet. Sad. He has regrets, but… there’s no way to explain how complicated they were.
He doesn’t regret finding and serving his King. He knows how Saru feels about him - he’d never made a secret of his disdain for the Red King, even if Yata had never fully understood why. He regrets that it cost him these last few years with Saru beside him, though. And he doesn’t think Saru regrets their divided paths finally bringing him to his King and a place where he fits so well - something he doubts would have happened otherwise. But just like Saru never would have been content and happy with Homra… Yata would never be the kind of person who would have ever meshed with Scepter 4.
But he had no idea how to phrase any of that to Saru that wouldn’t upset him again.
So he just lifts his head to study Saru’s face, his own expression a little uncertain now. “…Do you still think it’s over?”
"...It didn't feel that way." And that more than anything was what had driven him away. Logically, he got it, he did. Misaki had been made for Homra and he hadn't. That was just the difference in the type of people they were and where they thrived. But that hadn't made it hurt any less to watch the gulf between them widen.
And the way Misaki had treated him after finding out he'd switched clans had been a relief in a way, although it hadn't solved the problem, had only given him a way to avoid it and then make Misaki hate him even more whenever they met.
The question pulls him out of his own head, his gaze meeting Misaki's. "...Given the fact we're both naked in my bedroom, I'm going to say no."
Yata doesn’t bother to point out that this could have been his perfect revenge. He suspects Saru would have already thought of that anyway. But he does give a quiet sigh and slides up his body to kiss him again, catching his lower lip in a sharp bite beneath his fangs, just to lightly break skin and taste Saru on his tongue once more.
The curse is uttered in his head instead of out loud, but he doesn’t resist this time. Not when Saru pleads with him for this. As if he could have denied him anyway.
But he threads his fingers in Saru’s hair, the grip gentler this time but no less firm as he tugs his head up and to the side. He slides his tongue over the warm skin, feeling the rapid stuttering pule beneath the surface, speeding in anticipation.
“You’re mine now. And I’m yours.”
And he lets his fangs sink into Saru’s skin once more, drinking fom him slowly.
He bucks up against Misaki when those fangs pierce his throat and his moan is a ragged gasping sound, nails digging into Misaki's back, one hand sliding into his hair to keep Misaki's mouth right where he wants it.
Yata can’t answer him verbally, but he gives a soft, purring hum of agreement as he drinks. And lets his other hand slide down Saru’s body as the pleasure from the bite takes hold. Finding his cock, he curls warm fingers around him and strokes, each movement timed to the next sucking swallow of blood he drinks from the pureblood.
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He only lingers there a moment, though, not wanting to choke off Saru’s airway for too long, before he pulls out. And then slides down to collapse to his knees in front of Saru, slumping forward against him, his legs no longer able to keep him upright.
“Fuck. That was… Holy fuck, Saru.”
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“Have I mentioned yet that you’re incredible? Because I think I should have, but you keep derailing all my trains of thought.”
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"You taste so good..." He murmurs, kissing at his jaw a moment later, one hand sliding down his side.
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"Mmm. So do you. Did it help?" He smiles crookedly up at the vampire stretched out over him, then nips at his lower lip in return, a prick of fang against his skin. "You didn't take too much. Do you want more?"
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"It's different when we drink.." He continues quietly, eyes closing as he speaks, so he can focus on the words. "When we find someone worth drinking from..."
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Because no one's ever mentioned anything like this before, so he's not sure what Saru's talking about. Then again, the only purebloods to feed from him before this were King and Kusanagi, and occasionally Anna, in an emergency.
Since he can sense Saru struggling with his control, he rolls them instead, until Saru is the one beneath him and Yata stretched out atop him. He lets his thigh slide between Saru's legs, grinding down lightly against him - not to distract him but to give him something to focus on other than his thirst, if that was what he was having trouble with.
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"..Misaki" It's a quiet groan and then he tries to focus, his arms wrapping around Misaki, nails scraping over his back. "...You saw how he was about Totsuka." And Munakata, but that wasn't something he was going to bring up here.
"It's like an addiction. We can feed off others and it still provides what we need but it's not enough. It's never enough but we can survive with it."
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It still hurt, so he pushes that thought away quickly.
Reaching up, he threads his fingers through Saru's hair again and tugs to get his attention, waiting until Saru focuses on his face through the haze of whatever's riding him right now.
"Are you saying I'm like your Totsuka?"
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"You stopped seeing me long before I left."
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"...No wonder you hate me so much."
Why hadn't he ever said anything? Did he really think Yata never would have listened to him?
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"I hated him." Fushimi continues, his voice still even. "You pushed into my life, made me feel like I was worth something beyond what everyone else saw and then we met him. I would have been fine just being beside you, watching you, but the first time you offered him your blood? I knew it was over."
Because how would he have been able to compete with someone like Suoh Mikoto. He knew better, knew his own limits and as time passed, had found another path that worked for his own needs.
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He doesn’t regret finding and serving his King. He knows how Saru feels about him - he’d never made a secret of his disdain for the Red King, even if Yata had never fully understood why. He regrets that it cost him these last few years with Saru beside him, though. And he doesn’t think Saru regrets their divided paths finally bringing him to his King and a place where he fits so well - something he doubts would have happened otherwise. But just like Saru never would have been content and happy with Homra… Yata would never be the kind of person who would have ever meshed with Scepter 4.
But he had no idea how to phrase any of that to Saru that wouldn’t upset him again.
So he just lifts his head to study Saru’s face, his own expression a little uncertain now. “…Do you still think it’s over?”
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And the way Misaki had treated him after finding out he'd switched clans had been a relief in a way, although it hadn't solved the problem, had only given him a way to avoid it and then make Misaki hate him even more whenever they met.
The question pulls him out of his own head, his gaze meeting Misaki's. "...Given the fact we're both naked in my bedroom, I'm going to say no."
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“Neither one of us is leaving again.”
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"..Drink from me again." Because that's almost as good as drinking from Misaki and Fushimi turns his head, offering his throat.
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“Are you sure I haven’t taken too much already? I’ve fed from you twice, Saru.” Granted, they’d traded a little in there but still.
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"I'm sure." He breathes the words, one hand tangling in Misaki's hair to guide his head down to his neck.
"Misaki please."
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But he threads his fingers in Saru’s hair, the grip gentler this time but no less firm as he tugs his head up and to the side. He slides his tongue over the warm skin, feeling the rapid stuttering pule beneath the surface, speeding in anticipation.
“You’re mine now. And I’m yours.”
And he lets his fangs sink into Saru’s skin once more, drinking fom him slowly.
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"Yours,always...."
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With the way Misaki's hand is working him up, it's not long before his hips find the rhythm and rock up into Misaki's grip
He's helpless, caught between the two points of pleasure, fingers tugging and tangling in Misaki's hair.
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