And after over a year, I finally make an update. Thank you to those who stuck with it and badgered me. Particularly, this chapter is dedicated to Hanyou Lothuial for poking me to continue this story. I appreciate it greatly, and you have my undying thanks.

Anyhow... The usual disclaimers. Not my charas, just my situations. Thank you all.

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- Midnyte-fox

Kurama woke with a jolt, eyes snapping open in the darkness of his bedroom to look wildly around. His sheets were soaked with sweat and tangled around his legs, the winding top sheet making the fabric of his pajama bottoms bunched around his knees. Slowing his breathing forcibly, he ran one hand through the silken strands of his red hair, then turned on the bedside lamp.

A dream. It had all been a dream.

Well, no. It had been memories. Visions of the past sewn into his brain with the strongest thread imaginable, played over and over again in his mind. He shuddered, the sight of those unforgettable violet eyes burning into his mind.

Fighting the sheet, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. The hem of the white tee shirt he slept in was rucked up around his stomach, and he tugged it back down, straightening the thin cotton with nimble fingers. It was cool, and he could feel the breeze from the slightly open window on the pale flesh of his stomach.

He shivered slightly, standing and padding to the window to close it. It was really getting to be too cold to leave the window open at night anymore. He would have to remind Hiei of that, make sure the little jaganshi knew that Kurama could easily take ill- this fragile ningen body was nothing like...

... like his own. Like Youko's.

The memory-dream rushed back, and he had to move to the dresser, stare into the mirror for a long time, trace the ningen features of Shuuichi's face before he clamed down. The hair was flame, not ice. The eyes were green, not gold. The body was shorter, weaker and slightly stockier for his build. There were no vulpine ears or tail, and no fangs. He was Shuuichi, not Youko. He had to make that distinction. Youko was a wild creature, uncivilized yet infinitely clever. Kurama sighed. He did not balance well with Shuuichi, the personality traits of the ningen boy who's body he'd stolen. Shuuichi was weaker, compassionate where Youko was cunning, and it was Kurama, the balance between the two, that had to control all of it.

He choked back a despairing laugh. Not that Youko was infallible... Far from it. He had, after all been tricked by Karasu...

Karasu... The name still struck a chord within him, and terror, desire, and rage all flooded him at once. The demon was source of his best dreams and worst nightmares, now as he'd always been. Part of him craved him even now. He couldn't help it. The demon was like a drug. Even now, he could feel desire seeping through his blood, slow and languorous.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip, but the tinge of pain was insinuatingly sweet, and he found his eyes closing, the memories springing back to life, clear as day within his mind.

Karasu... touching him with hands, mouth, teeth... Taking from him whatever he desired, and forcing the unwanted pleasure into him until it became nearly unbearable... And then taking it away so fast, that he had no choice but to realize that he craved it even as he detested it. It was the utmost humiliation, and part of him enjoyed every bit of it. He couldn't help it. Karasu and his tricks had gotten under his skin and into his blood, making it beat fast through his body, pulse racing...

He could almost feel the demon's hands on him now... Coercing, stroking, taking... Always taking, always demanding more and more and more until Kurama thought he would burst with surrender, giving over all he had just to bring the waves of pleasure washing down on him again. It was exquisite and dreadful, exciting and despair-inducing all at once... And Kurama could barely tell the difference anymore.

He could almost feel it, his face flushing, lips parting in abandon as he gasped for air. His breath came harder and faster, the heat building... More, higher, dizzying in its intensity and vibrancy, coaxing, demanding, commanding, forcing, possessing, owning, punishing... And always those eyes, those violet eyes, burning into his very soul, piercing to the core of him, seeing the desire and frustration, the despair and desperation...

And then he was falling over the edge of a too-high cliff, plummeting toward the bottom fast, hitting it hard, lights flashing behind his eyes, pain blossoming from his knees as he hit the floor...

He whimpered softly, the sound alien to his own ears, and it took a moment for him to realize... He was on his knees on his floor, spent, the evidence of what had just transpired all too apparent...

He felt ill for a moment... Then enraged... But the desire never left him...

Levering himself to his feet, he staggered to the bed, falling into it and trying to block out the thoughts, eyes squeezing shut on a well of tears. Exhaustion came quickly, sweeping him away, saving him from both the realization of what he'd done, and from the pair of ruby-colored eyes narrowed in the darkness just outside his window...