
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/441677.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Nurarihyon_no_Mago_|_Nura:_Rise_of_the_Yokai_Clan
  Relationship:
      Rikuo(Yokai)/Rikuo(Human)
  Character:
      Yokai!Rikuo, Human!Rikuo
  Additional Tags:
      Get_ready_for_awe_and_sweetness, Talking_Trees, Blowjobs, Sorta_Fluffy,
      BAMF!Sakura_Trees
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-23 Words: 3243
****** Firm and Strong ******
by The_DK
Summary
     Slow and long, on and on...
     Rikuo seeks comfort from himself.
Notes
     Excuse the mistakes, I tend to overlook them sometimes...Please
     enjoy?
See the end of the work for more notes
In the Nurarihyon main compound, there is a great sakura tree. There are thick
roots of it embedded into the ground that looked to be settled there for
hundreds of years. The rich, brown trunk is profuse with age. It is tall, with
many branches; branches that are firm and strong enough for tens of people to
leisure away atop of.
The tree’s leaves are a vibrant yet soft shade of pink that becomes a beacon of
light at nightfall. People blocks away use it as a guide home from their day’s
travels. Each petal that falls may look fairly simple to the naked eye, but is,
in fact, quite complex. It takes supernatural control to be able to create
something so subtle yet amazingly eye-catching.
This sakura tree opts for a method that is slow and long: many years of mother
nature’s love accompanied by the extra watering and tilling and trimming of man
(maybe a bit of tweaking here and there from a yokai, but no one really knows),
and lots of luck. The end result is a beautiful image: something bright and
heavenly, that will bring comfort and amazement to all those who lay their eyes
upon it.
And it is ageless, like the grandmother everybody loves and will never die. The
tree has seen countless beings-human and otherwise- pass by. Many have come and
gone and she’s been there at all their highs and lows(even a death that
saddened an entire clan) with wholehearted feelings of support.
One might think she wishes to do more than show off her matured grace, but it
is not very certain. What is certain is that the sakura tree in the Nurarihyon
main compound is timeless. It will live on and on…for many years to come.
Rikuo stirred from his sleep by the feeling of coldness running down his skin:
groups of them, five points each. The pace at which they drew trails along his
body was a crawl. They were pressing steadily and drawing him out of his
slumber while leisurely mapping out his side. They were familiar, however; the
boy could have sworn he had felt this kind of pressure before.
Out of curiosity, Rikuo struggled to pull himself out of his slumber to see
what it was. It was difficult, the young master learned, as his progress was as
long-winded as the strangely familiar pressures massaging his body. He was
still half-dazed when he finally opened his eyes. All his senses were dulled
save for the touch. It was like that was the source of his unclear state. It
was stealing enough of his attention that it drew him from sleep, but not so
much that he is fully conscious. So with his eyes half-lidded he continued to
feel the sensations running along his body.
They ran down from the very tip of the sixteen-year-old’s shoulder to the start
to his hip in slow soothing strokes. It was peaceful, he thought, a great
comfort from his daily life as the King of spirits. Did these touches know what
struggles he goes through every day? Perhaps they were aware of his constant
battles and knew that this was just the way to iron them away.
They were fingertips, he deduced when his mind was brought back to the present.
Just when he was about to pin Tsurara as the culprit he realized those fingers
couldn’t possibly belong to her. They were too wide, too calloused from them to
be hers.
Slowly, Rikuo turn over onto his back. The touches stopped immediately. Though
saddened by the lack of friction, he felt it was more pressing to see who it
was. Groggily, he sat up, sharpened his eyes to the dark and saw-
He gasped.
-himself.
The boy didn’t know if he should attack or not. It could have been a shape
shifting yokai that snuck into his home posed to look like him, but the theory
seemed unlikely. This was the real thing, he knew. Rikuo was staring back at
his night form.
And passed the initial shock, he thinking if this was what others saw whenever
he drew his sword at night: a tall and slender man with silver-black hair and
sharp predatory eyes. It was, to say the very least, intimidating. Did Rikuo
learn to make such a face, he wonders, or is this the product of the constant
use of “fear”?
The boy even flinched when his other tried to move towards him again. His yokai
counterpart just laughed (oh, but it was a deep, rich laugh. So soft, almost
nonexistent but so sure of himself…) and said, “Well, that’s alright.”
The human’s breath hitched. His voice was just right. It was so right that it
was almost painful. The sound reverberated across the room making it seem like
he rose his voice even when it was barely above a whisper. It was right in that
every aspect of his tone had some denser trait to it. It was rich like fresh
cinnamon, native and wise, the accent of nature itself. Despite the sharp look,
Rikuo’s tension sprung loose under that tone. In the midst of this, the boy had
an epiphany. Why was he so mesmerized?
Collecting himself, he asked, “Who are you?” It was a futile attempt. All his
efforts crumpled away when that laugh came around again. His shoulders slumped
and he released a breath that he didn’t even know he’d been holding. When the
yokai was done, he did not reply. Rather he stared at the other. Eyes raked
over his face. The action made his human form quiver under the gaze, “What?”
And his equivalent then drew closer, so close that there was not even a hair
between them. His whole body was pressed flush against the other and the
stronger of the two used his arms to hold that position in place. There hadn’t
even been a sound and if it weren’t for the hard body pressed against him,
Rikuo would have sworn that his eyes were playing tricks on him.
They were not, he learned. As he felt a body that was a carbon copy of his own
practically welded onto his. It was so surreal to be himself like this. His
body felt like a familiar stranger to him. Rikuo could feel ever contour of
muscle above and remembered how much training it took to get that way. He could
see all the scars splayed out oh the other chest and knew that battles he went
threw to earn them. This out-of-body experience he was having was so
exhilarating, real, and alluring, that he found himself wanting more out of
this.
His yokai form spoke again, “You’ve tried your best for a lowly human. It’s
time you get your reward.” Rikuo melted under that voice. It was making the boy
drunk, he was sure. He tried moving out form under him again but the other was
already straddling him through the sheets of his futon. Rikuo was trapped.
Slowly his other self leaned forward, their faces inches apart, and Rikuo could
not help but savor the anticipation coursing through his veins. The fear mixed
with expectation made him deathly excited. What was his twin thinking? What was
he going to do? And then after? Rikuo held his breath.
The aftermath might have been what he was looking for. It could have been the
complete opposite. When the other pressed his lips against the boy’s, Rikuo was
not too sure. He grew even more exhilarated when he was kissed again.
It was a firm press, like all the confidence he exuded was put into it. The
lips pulled hard and unconsciously, Rikuo parted his own, unknowingly playing
right into his hand. A tongue slowly dove in dancing along with his own. Then
those cold sensuous hands joined the fray, caressing and eliciting strange
noises from him. It felt good to be touched like that.
Rikuo wanted more.
He moaned, embarrassed as lips became better acquainted with his neck. Even
when the demon’s touch was cold, it made Rikuo burn all over. Just a small tug
would send him reeling.
“A-ah,” everything was growing too cramped and stuffy. It was too hot for him,
too congested. By the time the other had loosened his yukata, exposing his
chest, the boy was already panting badly. The heat of his body clashing with
the coldness of his counterpart was something he could get addicted to. This
person- thing, whatever- just needed to go a little faster, a little harder.
When that same person abruptly pulls back, Rikuo whimpers. All the good stuff-
gone in an instant. That wasn’t fair, he thought. Starting and stopping is just
not cool, but he waited without complaint for something to happen.
The sharper, more mature version of him was watching him intently. He was
eyeing what must have been light red blotches that were starting to mar his
skin. Dark orbs raked over his body from top to bottom slowly. It was like he
was being mentally undressed, way past his skin. The look made him wheeze. It
was almost as good as being touched. And yet, Rikuo was still craving contact.
The yokai slowly brought his face close to the boy’s neck. His long soft hair
tickled Rikuo’s skin and the other nuzzled against him. As if he were being
pulled, his demon self dragged himself down to the smaller one’s chest. A hot,
hot mouth enveloped a pert nipple and sucked. The hot cavern surrounded by cold
lips stopped all his thoughts. Rikuo jerked wildly, thrashed even. The boy held
on to the sheets of his futon as the beats of pleasure increased. A tongue
swirled around the now hard, nub, and the human side saw stars.
A hands glides over his flat chest, exploring the length of the expanse. Then
he reached lower, followed his happy trail, and cupped his arousal- a firm,
strong grip. The smaller one gasped, then exhaled a shaky breath. It was all he
could do not to buck into that hand. And he didn’t want to. He grasped very
quickly how better it was to let his doppelganger have dominance over him. Not
knowing or being able to control what comes next brought him to more
pleasurable heights than when it was just him; quick and predictable. This man
above him was anything but. Every movement had an air of confidence in him
(said by the lack of hesitance at the touching of another’s groin) unlike him,
who can’t even masturbate without shaking.
And this person on top of him took a moment to fully shed Rikuo’s yukata,
leaving him bare. Slowly, ever so slowly, the hand stroked him. Rikuo thought
his would die at that moment. He couldn’t even breathe properly. “No, no more,”
he thought. He wouldn’t last long if it was kept up this way. It was like his
twin was the invention of pleasure. The hand grasping him needed no lubricant;
it was dry and calloused from holding his blade and perfect, as rough patches
on certain area on his palm where the best form of friction he‘s ever felt.
Long strokes are what brought him to full hardness. The were well measured and
calculated.
He brought his face to the human’s manhood, eyed it carefully as signs of
climax gathered at his tip. His breaths were so close to that sensitive organ
that it drove Rikuo nuts. The other hand lazily played with his pubic hair; a
tickling temptation to see him try and relieve himself the way he himself
wanted to (which was fast and rough and would not last more than a minute), a
dare to bat the phantom’s hand away in a show of assertiveness. Rikuo did
nothing, however, and as a reward, those beautiful rosy lips enclosed around
the head of excitement and, like a sweet, sweet candy, licked precum off the
silt over and over. On and on again.
And Rikuo promptly lost his mind.
Hips rose whether they wanted to or not. It was just too good for him. Rikuo
had to push, push, push deeper into that deep crevasse sucking him off. He
needed it. He needed it so bad. But before he was even able to advance an inch,
a firm hand (the same one that was twirling his hair about as if to pass time)
kept him from all movement. For half a second, the boy downright loathed the
larger man, but then saw where the other was taking it.
Rikuo felt that mouth take him in further, albeit slowly. His mind was running
a mile a minute, and the boy imagine what it must look like: a clone of
himself, hollow mouthed, bobbing his head and tasting his essence. At the mere
thought of that, the boy spurted some into his other’s mouth. He propped
himself on his elbows and watched a greedy yokai push down inch by excruciating
inch. He gulped.
He was fully sheathed into his mouth. “Ngh, h-hah…”, his moans were unabashed
now. He couldn’t care to hold them in now. Those rosy pink lips, exactly like
his, were puckered around his manhood. It was familiar and unfamiliar at the
same time. He knew that mouth. He knew every part of it, and yet it felt like a
whole different thing when used so intimately. So weird, he thought. It was
such a disgusting fetish he had, having someone who looked like him put in this
situation. Between his legs, the yokai hummed.
Rikuo came.
While white spots danced over his eyes, the human was able to see the demon
smirking and wiping his mouth in between.
That night Rikuo dreamt of a cold breeze brushing against him and the inviting
scent of cherry blossoms right under his nose.
When Rikuo awoke the next morning, he felt renewed and refreshed. In all
honesty he hadn’t been sleeping well the past few weeks. His mother fell ill
after Grandfather died and work has started to pile up suddenly. Under the
pressure of trying to keep an entire clan in one piece, he collapsed yesterday
from exhaustion.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the memory came back to him. Yes, he was
asleep, and he was sleeping so well, but then- something woke him up…something,
someone…
Rikuo swiftly shot up from his bed and checked his surroundings for signs of
intrusion. His eye darted past every nook and cranny. Someone woke him up last
night, and he was sure it was himself. Or a phantom. Or a shape shifter. In any
case, it looked just like he did at night and he had… the boy blushed.
No one could have gotten into his room. He would have sensed them a mile away.
He just- had a weird dream. Maybe all that was just a way (and a weird on at
that) to relieve his stress. Now that he thought about it. His sheets were
sparkling clean. If…that really happened, then there’d definitely be a mess.
So. It was just a dream. Very, very realistic dream.
He decided to keep the matter to himself. He had a dream where he gave pleasure
to himself. Not eve about a crush or a harem of pretty girls he saw on
television. That was kind of sad and he’d rather not let other catch wind of
it. Yeah, there was no need to tell others of the debacle.
So he went out his room to wash up and get ready to tackle another hectic day.
As he got up and stretched like he did most mornings, Rikuo noticed his muscles
were less stiff. He reached up above his head then bent down to touch his toes,
and found they were looser- much looser than they’ve probably ever been. This
put him in a good mood. Now when he tells Tsurara that he’s feeling better, he
will actually mean it.
Silvery white hair sways with the wind as its owner smokes a pipe on the second
floor windowsill of the Nura house. He slowly pulls it out from between rosy
pink lips and lifts his chin up to release a stream of hot air.
Next to him, a sakura tree spreads it dainty cherry blossom leaves to go and
dance with the wind. Sharp eyes narrow at the sight though knowing it would not
deter the twirling petals. The man sighs in defeat, more content with relaxing
and basking in the moonlight. Inside, the weaker version of himself sleeps
soundly. He was more at peace the days before.
A pleased smile graces his lips at this. His vessel is healthier now. Weeks
before, he was worried that the human might die with the way he was going. As
his body grew weaker, so did his yokai blood. It didn’t boil like it used to.
It was dying down and smoothing out. The yokai didn’t like that at all. Then,
when all seemed bleak, he heard a voice.
“Sooth your boy.”
The next thing he knew, he was in front of the boy. And it was like his body
just moved on his own. He just…
“I only released your inner desire.”
“The hell…what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Desire; a crave, longing, a strong wish.”
“I know what it means. Stop messing around.” he said gruffly, readjusting
himself on his perch.
A smooth feminine chuckle hangs in the air, “I have the power to grant wishes
every now and again.”
“Oh really? Any wish? What if I wanted hordes of women at my every beck and
call?”
“If that was the strongest desire in your heart, and I wished it to be so, then
I would grant it. But it is not.”
“And how’d you know my strongest desire?”
“Boy, I’m over 400 years old and have magical power that rivals the gods.
Knowing one’s thoughts is child’s play.”
“That’s a bit disturbing.”
“Very well then. Let’s call it intuition.”
“Appreciate it.” he deadpanned.
So he wanted his vessel. Physically. The yokai…didn’t really know what to think
of it. Maybe he did feel genuine worry for his container. But he was aware of
how those feelings could possibly matter. He was just a spirit that takes over
the body when sun falls. The two will never get to see each other, but then,
even though the demon was content with that fact, he became physical will the
other Rikuo present. He could touch him, taste him. And he took full advantage
of that when he saw the centre of his affections so wound up. That one chance
is something he’ll keep for the rest of his life.
“And thanks.”
In the Nurarihyon main compound, there is a great sakura tree. It’s roots are
firm, strong, think with age. It’s leaves, a soft shade of pink, are the work
of slow, long cultivation and maybe just a bit of divine magic. Sometimes, when
she feels the cry of hearts both young and old, she’ll grant their desires, if
only for a night. She does more than show of her poise and grace through her
soft petals that dance in the wind. Every so often, she’s a meddler in other’s
affairs. Like the grandmother everybody loves, but will never die, she is
timeless. She will live on and on… for many years to come.
 
 
 
-.End.-
End Notes
     Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment!
     Or Kudos. Or...something. Yeah.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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