#his affection

His Affection

As the second-in-command, the moments bestowed upon Upper Moon 1 were of the utmost significance—a privilege beyond measure to partake in even the slightest morsel of his precious time, perhaps more so than the demon king himself.

And it seemed Muzan thought so too.

Doma's relationship with the highest Kizuki was, put simply, a distraction for them both. His lordship already didn't like him—and it was evident that the progenitor fancied the prospect of hearing his cries of pleasure bounce about the sprawling walls of the Infinity Castle even less. Or having the ability to see him unfurl anywhere, for that matter.

Yet he tolerated it all, much as he tolerated the myriad eccentricities that defined Doma's existence—solely because Kokushibo didn't bear any particular fondness of the man. If there was any semblance of favor beneath his veneer, it was a masterful deception, concealed with an artistry that left no room for doubt.

“How exceedingly unbecoming of you... Upper Moon Two,” Kokushibo taunted, his tone laced with derision as he continued to torment Doma. A single thrust of his knee into Doma's perineum reduced him to a huffing, mewling, wanton mess that could do nothing but writhe beneath the relentless assault. “Pathetic.”

“For you, I...” Doma began to croon in response, but his sentiment was summarily disregarded by his superior.

Indeed, the kanji branded into Doma's very being served as a constant reminder of the wrongness that tainted their actions. Yet he grappled with the notion of whether it truly constituted wrongdoing, when he was held captive by someone of superior strength. It could have been worse, but the act itself, while undeniably indulgent, left him yearning for more.

Three pairs of amber eyes encased in bloodshot sclerae bore down upon Doma's kaleidoscope orbs, middle eyelids lifting with a sadistic mirth as the latter struggled to gather his bearings. Yes, if nothing else, he was a rather fine instrument—a myriad outlet of wanton and eager reactions to every strum, stroke, and tug of Kokushibo's own.

Another forceful thrust, and Doma's fists, ensnared by the constricting uwa-obi, trembled with impatience. His hitherto unrewarding quest for gratification danced in macabre synchrony with Kokushibo's unyielding onslaught of ruthless stringency. Stringency he trusted Doma could handle, just as he had many times before.

Indeed, he bore an unparalleled capacity to endure the most precarious of circumstances. Stripped bare and vulnerable, entangled within Kokushibo's grip that paradoxically bore both pain and pleasure to his bruised wrists, all within the sanctum of his private chambers where the prying eyes of servants loomed over him as a threat to his image—his affection for the elder demon had endowed him with a remarkable adaptability. That which Kokushibo quite appreciated, even while he didn't do so typically.

“Please,” Doma keened, not entirely sure of what he was begging for. His legs flailed above Kokushibo's hips, the capriciousness of his knee now replaced with a rhythmic cadence. In response, Doma's own hips danced to accommodate, all under Kokushibo's unwavering gaze.

“Please?” The elder demon withdrew his knee just as he noticed Doma's thrusts growing more frantic, bringing about a plaintive whine of protest. One that he ignored. “Please what?”

Cruel, Doma surmised, his furrowed brows betraying a sensation akin to frustration—though it was more related to a profound sense of bereftness. The feeling soon gave way to astonishment though, as his superior's calloused, unfettered hand ventured toward his most intimate regions. In a tantalizing journey that brushed past a multitude of erogenous zones, Kokushibo commenced a painstakingly leisurely rhythm of strokes upon the taut, erect shaft. “Lord Kokushibo,” Doma moaned, the words escaping his lips in yet another impassioned plea. He couldn't bite back his grin at the pleasure as the ministrations increasingly focused on his tip.

“Hmm?” He pressed.

“I...”

“Out with it, now.” With a low, knowing hum, Kokushibo continued his torturous ministrations, the shadow of a wry smile playing upon his lips. He reveled in the unfolding tableau, and were it not for the undeniable evidence concealed beneath his hakama, Doma might have failed to discern Kokushibo's own mounting desire. His digit, now shifting its focus to Doma's taint and then his quivering slit, brought about a gasp and a shuddering buck of his hips from his suboordinate.

“Oh, you intoxicate me,” was what Doma wanted nothing more than to convey at that moment—but he was thinking with the brain in between his legs now, and just choking out the phrase “I want you to fuck me” was a hassle on its own. So in lieu of those words, his body needily leaned into Kokushibo's tantalizing caress, eliciting a flinch, a fervent yelp, and the shadow of a chuckle as he was duly rewarded with the electrifying sting of a strike to his thigh.

“Out with it,” repeated Upper Moon One, eyes lazily trailing downwards towards Doma's slit. The hand on his thigh never quite ceased its position there, but it did gingerly slide upwards, halting just shy of his hip. “I much prefer hearing you mewl and beg...” Kokushibo leaned back, moving to take the awaiting bottle of oil beside them in his hand with a mumur, “...than I do seeing you throw your hips about without any abandon or shame... like a cheap harlot.”

Or perhaps he preferred a combination of both.

His movements were deft and fluid, and soon enough, Doma found his thighs tensing in ecstasy as his superior slid a slicked finger inside with ease. With a single thrust, followed by the benevolent curl of Kokushibo's digit, he effortlessly conducted a symphony of squirming, whimpering, and shuddering glee from the younger demon.

“Oh, god, yes— more of that,” he finally cried out, his moans now reaching crescendos of reckless abandon, “Please, I need— I nee-he-oh...!”

Something between a laugh and a keen leaves his mouth mid plea, and Kokushibo lavishes a hot tongue on his nipple. Simultaneously, the hand that had lingered on his upper thigh ventured upward to cup his pectoral—soft and sumptuous enough to rival a woman's bosom, and apparently just as sensitive as one, too.

“Go on,” Kokushibo rasped, following his words with a bite that sent his suboordinate gasping for air that he hardly needed to begin with. Doma seemed so caught up in the feeling of wet hotness lapping his erected nipple that he hardly had any reaction to the second and soon, third finger of Kokushibo's adding to the mess of oily slick that was his entrance. A wicked spectacle it was, to witness the unraveling of Doma's customary demeanor. Kokushibo, savoring every moment of it, traced a peppery path of kisses along both pectorals, infusing his actions with a deceptively sweet tenderness before descending upon the other nipple. “What do you need?”

“I need... I need your cock— inside me,” His own cock jumped as the pinching sensation returned at a sharper intensity, one that drew forth his blood. Blood that erupted upon his superior's taste buds—blood that was lapped up hungrily until the wound inevitably fizzled away.

To this, Upper Moon One withdrew his fingers, either deeming Doma loose enough or in an effort to keep him on the edge of release.

“Just inside you?” probed the demon, withdrawing his mouth and cupping hand to do away with his garments.

“Mnhh” with a hitch of his breath, Doma lowered his eyelids, and then his gaze. Seemed the man had a sword in between his legs too, he joked to himself. “I wan—... I need you to fuck me, Lord Kokushibo.” The latter cupped the back of Doma's left knee in response. “Please,” he added. There was a period of silence between the two after that.

“Turn around,” Kokushibo finally commanded, to which Doma obliged. A small part of him contemplated praising the man silently, for although he relished the act of instructing him to get on his knees, this time, the younger demon had done so without being expressly told—a noteworthy first.

Doma's body quivered in anticipation as the sizable tip of Kokushibo's arousal prodded at his entrance. It greedily swallowed up the intrusion alongside the thick shaft that followed, and he could've sworn he saw stars once their hips converged with a wet slap. Another exploratory snap of his superior's hips, and he wails with delight—All things considered, it quite pleased Kokushibo to know this wanton little orfice remembered him so very well.

Kokushibo maintained an unwavering grasp on Doma's hips, savoring every subtle contour of the younger demon's form and the symphony of beguiling sounds that flowed from his parted lips. There was no respite, no pause in the relentless storm that were his ceaseless thrusts, each one propelling his length to greater depths within Doma's quivering core. The younger demon, overwhelmed by the overstimulation, sought solace by burying his head into the silken sheets, his eyes cast upwards, and his mouth a veritable cascade of desire, saliva pooling in his abandon. His muffled ries and moans, somehow still unbridled and unrestrained, reverberated through the room and likely the halls beyond it. And it was always at that point that Kokushibo knew his conscience had been wholly eclipsed by the arduous affair.

In all sincerity, Doma was at his most endearing in this state. A harsh sentiment, perhaps, but in such moments, there existed no space for artifice or his foolish banter. In such moments, he was malleable, receptive to reminders of his place.. Just as he should be.

As Kokushibo's hand traversed the expanse of Doma's nape and traced an affectionate path along his back—perhaps the sole form of praise Doma would garner from his superior this night—he basked in the tender sensation, finding solace in the fleeting respite his dampened pillow couldn't hope to provide on its own.

However, that interlude of affection was destined to be brief. His hand, which had previously caressed Doma's back, now ventured to entwine itself in the younger demon's tousled locks. With a firm tug, akin to that of a leash, Kokushibo elicited a high-pitched squeal from Doma—a sound that he found utterly delicious, a brief indulgence before he shifted his focus.

At the crook of Doma's neck, Kokushibo bared his fangs, and with a savage bite, he drew forth yet another long bead of blood to be lapped up with grace. Kokushibo's lips closed around the wound, savoring the metallic tang of Doma's essence. From there, the rolling of his hips only grew more intense, and Doma's moans only grew louder.

“Such a piteous mess,” drawled Upper Moon One, muffled by his own painful ministrations. Doma threw his head back with whatever room he was allowed. “Merely a handful of thrusts, and you're wailing and contorting... like a desperate animal in the throes of heat.”

A well-placed blow to his rear incurred a yowl of pleasure from Doma—a response not born of wrongdoing but a delicious opportunity to chastise him in such a manner.

“M'sorry,” He babbled mindlessly, “M' a mess for you, Lord Kokushibo, I—mhn~!—feels so good, I'm...”

Kokushibo tore his fangs from the yielding flesh, savoring the yelp that ensued, along with the metallic tang of blood that tantalized his lips. He took a moment to relish the essence, licking it away with a deliberateness that bespoke his hedonistic enjoyment at that moment. As anticipated, the wound healed swiftly. He leaned back, drinking in the sight of Upper Moon Two, stripped of his dignity and forced to his knees within the confines of his own domain—a place where his image held paramount importance.

“You don't appear to be contrite in the slightest.” Kokushibo crooned, his voice oscillating between panting breaths and lascivious groans as he skillfully coaxed another cascade of mewls from Doma. His free hand deftly moved to stimulate the other's arousal, further heightening his pleasure. “I wonder,” he continued, his tone dripping with malice, “what might occur... if one of your devoted followers were to stumble upon this debauched scene... while you're ensnared in such a stupefying state?”

With another resolute thrust, Kokushibo's hand deftly manipulated Doma's frenulum, unleashing a searing tidal wave of pleasure that sent the younger demon reeling, stars dancing before his vision. In that moment of rapturous intensity, his brain grappled to process the words uttered, and when comprehension finally dawned, the thought alone made his cock twitch with fervor.

“How crassly forthright.” Kokushibo remarked, his grip on Doma's arousal tightening briefly, only to unleash a punitive slap upon the hypersensitive tip. The sharp sting gave rise to an immediate yelp of pleasure-pain, Doma's breath quickening with a sharp hitch as he teetered on the precipice of rapture and torment.

It was a sound judgement to have him face the door then, Kokushibo supposed, basking in the sounds he choked out of his suboordinate. Doma's vocalizations ran the gamut, ranging from rasped vulgarities to squeaky cries, and if there was one facet that Kokushibo genuinely admired about him, it was his voice—a mellifluous tenor that he might not have deserved but undeniably possessed. In the throes of passion, Doma made the most delectable sounds, each note growing more exquisite, more impassioned, as his inevitable climax approached.

And Kokushibo, true to his intent, was resolute in granting him that release, if not the preservation of his dignity. After all, he was exceptionally well-behaved tonight—and he had put the man through more than enough.

In that chamber, a tumultuous tempest of blurred ecstasy unfurled its rapturous banner. Devoid of ardor's solemn vows, bereft of any whispered oaths, release finally came. As Doma, his frame a symphony of ecstasy, ascended towards the zenith of his sensual reverie, Kokushibo, without much delay, joined him. With one last fervent thrust, Upper moon one stilled his hips, and the demons' release converged in sinewy strings of white amidst their frenzied sounds of pleasure, until there was nothing left to give.

Doma was the first to succumb to a semblance of exhaustion, his body yielding as Kokushibo's length slid out of him, leaving him in a languid sprawl as he finally had a moment to revel in the intoxicating fluids that now clung to him—an unapologetic mess of his superior's warm spent and his own perspiration that existed despite his naturally low body temperature. Kokushibo, his gaze fixated on the visage of Doma in his post-coital haze, contemplated the notion of a potential round two, had he the luxury of time.

With a sigh, he carefully removed the obi that had previously bound Doma's wrists, freeing the younger demon from his constraints. He proceeded to dress himself upon sliding off the bed as if nothing happened—although his apparent discomfort at his own perspired state was palpable.

“It would be prudent for you to summon your servants to attend to this... aftermath,” he remarked in a hushed tone, his words laced with an air of formality. “If there is anything you require me to procure for you... now would be the time to inquire. If not.. I'm taking my leave.”

“A kiss would be-”

“No.”

Doma grumbled, shuffling up to the edge where Kokushibo stood. Like clockwork, his perpetual smile returned, and of course, so did his cheekiness. Kokushibo, who had been facing the door, turned to look at him, utterly unamused.

“Would it kill you to give me just one...?” he pouted. “You said I could ask for anything I wanted just now... You're always so mean to me.”

“No,” Kokushibo repeated, adjusting the sash of his kimono. “...I said I'd give you whatever you needed. You don't need what you're asking for.”

Kokushibo reached for his sheathed katana and slid it into his obi with practiced precision. He was preparing for his departure, to which Doma deflated onto his bed in silent resignation.

“...Nor does it seem like you need anything from me at all,” he remarked stoically, turning his gaze forward. “So I will take my leave now.”

And with that, he was gone. Doma rolled over unto his back with a dramatic sigh. Maybe it was a need. His affection.

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊

Kock

Honestly, the relationship probably started with... Um..

Lmao nobody fucking knows how. But Doma definitely started it out of curiosity.

And at first, Kokushibo didn't really know why he was entertaining it. He wasn't fond of Doma at all. But the line began to blur when he was the one to initiate instead.

When he did that, Doma definitely stopped bothering Akaza as much. Which didn't go unnoticed, but the latter was definitely relieved enough to not say anything about it during meetings.

Eventually, Kokushibo mightve just come to the conclusion that he indulged for entertainment or as an outlet to release his emotions. But it was mostly for entertainment—if anything, he'd train when he got upset. That always worked.

In all honesty it was just because he was severely touch starved and ngl the sex itself was good but he's never admitting that lmao

Post-coitus, Doma always answers Kokushibo's inquiry regarding his needs with something related to affection. And without fail, he's always duly rewarded with a hard, cold "no."

He did hesitate once when Doma challenged him to a game of gō, though.

If only he had the time that day.

In regards to coitus...

Koku will always start with kisses. Anywhere but Doma's face or neck. For the record, the pectorals are his favorite.

He relishes how it makes Doma squirm.

And the feeling of them...

Despite being leaner than himself, they seemed to be fatter than his. And just as sensitive.

Likes to tear Doma's clothing off before his own. By the time he's done bullying the poor man, he has to take his clothes off before anything can happen.

Also likes his belly. Small, but it draws the prettiest shudders out of him when touched.

He quite enjoys how Doma will just accept anything given to him with grace—he's needy, to the point where he'll praise the man for simply touching him literally anywhere.

He also enjoys Doma's voice enough to minimize his own sounds, much to the latter's chagrin.

If Kokushibo gets to force sounds out of him, Doma can do the exact same thing too.

Clenching.

Oral (his personal favorite—his words aren't the only thing he can use his mouth for)

Riding, although it's not common.

Touching when he's not bound by an obi, or in some cases red ropes

It's like a game for him most days—but there always comes a time where the power shifts in Kokushibo's favor.

And when it does, he's ruthless.

Unforgiving.

Merciful.

Merciless.

He'll leave Doma speechless, without ever needing to gag him.