Disclaimer: Hoozuki no Reitetsu isn't mine, but surely you all knew that

Warnings: rough, but fully consensual yaoi PWP with angsty undertone; purple prose ahead

Credits: my immense gratitude to impoeia, Kleon Luminia and Darkness' Forbidden Scribe for such superb beta reading

Cultural Notes:

Genkan is the entryway for shoe removal, typically comprising of a porch and a doormat that are recessed into the floor to contain any dirt that is tracked in from the outside; its tiled or concrete floor is called tataki.

Jizaikagi is an adjustable metal hook secured to a girder of the ceiling's timberwork and hangs down above the sunken hearth that is used for central heating and cooking. The hook generally consists of a hollow bamboo tube equipped with an iron rod and an attached wooden lever for balance that would allow the pot or kettle to be raised or lowered, depending on the desired degree of heat. Popular sculptural motives are propeller blades, colossal hooks, and fish (symbols for luck).

Also known as wakame sake, wakamezake involves drinking rice wine poured onto one's pubes because the pubic hair is supposed to resemble soft, wavy seaweed (wakame) floating in the sea of alcohol.

The Hand that Caresses the Night

Biological need, carnal desire, or simply fucking—Hoozuki did not mind any of those terms. Allude to lovemaking, however, and he would gladly smite the speaker on the spot. Such audacity; as if affection could bloom between a dweller of heaven and a denizen of hell!

Bonnou kunou. [All lust is grief.]

It was the beginning spring—too early for the cicadas to break out of their nests and chirp into the night. In the distance, snack bars, cabaret clubs, and massage parlors bathed passers-by in their ostentation, for the red-light district never yielded to Sleep. Yet here, a lantern in one hand and his usual spiked club in the other, Hoozuki journeyed under the cover of darkness through the intrepid solitude of the rarely-traversed path. Bar the clacks of his own geta, no other pedestrian strolled down that narrow thoroughfare by the blood-red spider lily groves.

Once a month, on the evening after the full moon, the daiou's right hand man would part from his official attire. For one full night, the cool-headed figure that everybody addressed as "Hoozuki-sama" dissolved into an anonymous vacationist. With every step, his heart beat louder—a constant reminder for the true purpose of his sojourn. Contrary to the popular belief, Hell's second-in-command possessed no unlimited trove of equanimity; he needed reprieve from the heavy demand of his workload and responsibilities. He had tried a number of courtesans before, but reached an impasse despite all his endeavors.

All his other escapades under the sheets paled into insignificance in the face of a certain bedmate.

The undeniable fact that he had not opposed when a svelte body pushed him against the cedar tree on the front yard last month simply because neither had the patience to reach the bedroom was a mistake on his part. That he had pounded his partner so hard that he needed to replace the broken wall two months ago was a mistake on the other party's part. That they both had rutted with each other over and over like rabbits in heat the month before that was a mistake of … Hoozuki banished the thought from his mind. No benefit would come out of such recollection.

Closer to the cottage, the nocturnal wind extinguished the flame of the traveler's portable paper lantern. Instead of reviving the flame, he relied on the front yard's stone lantern to illuminate his way. Trying to recall whether he had stored enough firewood to survive the blusterous night, he hastened his steps through the weed-choked terrain. The cottage had been his old dwelling before he started to work at Enma's court. At present, it functioned as storage—while the location of his designated chamber at the court was convenient for work, its size could embrace only less than half of his collections.

The lucent shouji screen saved Hoozuki from the necessity of retrieving his house key from under the garden lantern—the person with whom he had made the appointment had already arrived at his abode. The moment he slid the door open, the view of the welcoming sunken-to-the-floor hearth in the center of his cottage's living room unfurled before his eyes. Next to the irori, a slender figure was pouring water into a pot of uncooked rice. In lieu of his usual medicinal white coat, Hakutaku was draped in a red silk bathrobe.

The first time Hakutaku had sat by his hearth like this had transpired centuries prior: he had poured a flask of sake onto his lap. Through the wakamezake, he learned that contrary to the popular belief, Hoozuki's competency in several fields did not extend as far as oral sex went. He had proudly accepted the honor of Hoozuki's partner for first fellatio experience nonetheless.

Then Hakutaku had eaten him alive with leisure from tooth to toe. No lack of clothing had ever made Hoozuki feel quite as naked as that night. His bare form had been laid out and spread apart and become a feast in his own house, in his own futon under Hakutaku's body. For the first time, the de facto ruler of hell had desperately wanted to use his blanket not to protect his body from cold, but to cover his discomposure. He had done nothing but lay pinned down to the mattress and twitch uncontrollably while Hakutaku had descended into the very depths of him and paused there, planting kisses that tasted like both derision and adoration.

Tonight, at the sight of the property owner, Hakutaku attached the rice pot to the jizaikagi over the square pit instead. The goldfish plant-shaped lever swayed gently as he raised the adjustable hook, clearly intending a longer cooking time for the porridge—a wordless declaration for 'I won't let you go till morning.' In doing so, his dainty fingers curled elegantly and his garment slipped sideways, baring his shoulder, pale as the moonlight perforating from the window and smooth as porcelain.

"Planning to drug me with that okayu?" Hoozuki scoffed. "Or could it be smeared crockery that you're scheming?" His lips curved upwards ever so slightly—one of the few privileges exclusive to Hakutaku when they were alone like this. "How juvenile of you."

A simper gracing his lips, Hakutaku retorted, "Voiced by one who spent an all-nighter to dig a hole from heaven to hell just to trip me?"

"That effort resulted in a desirable outcome," came the pragmatic rejoinder. "At any rate, even if you were to succeed and I were to be late for work due to this soporific or laxative drug, what benefit would you reap?"

"How does a few more rounds after breakfast sound?" With a victorious grin crowning his lips, Hakutaku appended, "I wouldn't mind seeing you let your guard down during slumber again, hugging me like a pillow and murmuring, 'Hakutaku-san … Hakutaku-san…' Really, you Japanese people … don't you think it's ridiculous to carry on addressing others with honorific even in sleep?"

"You confused dream and reality, Hakubuta," Hoozuki mocked even as his heart detected neither lie nor delusion from his fellow scholar of oriental medicine.

Hakutaku's tongue clucked before he rejoined, "Just because you were in a different pose when you woke up doesn't mean your sleep talking never happened."

"Must you degrade yourself with delusional trait on top of being a bovine womanizer with low tolerance for alcohol?"

"I thought you might say that." Veins of anger emerged on Hakutaku's forehead, but he calmly took out his smartphone. After he tapped it a few times, the screen displayed the recording of the sleeping Hoozuki, hair disheveled and a trace of saliva at the corner of his mouth. As though those were not embarrassing enough, his arms were encircling Hakutaku's waist and his leg was possessively settling on Hakutaku's thigh.

Squinting suspiciously, Hoozuki retorted, "There's no evidence that you didn't stage this or even manipulate the entire video."

"Then think," Hakutaku mouthed, "If I were to arrange that, my intended result would likely be as follows: for once, you could take it upon yourself not to rise earlier than me, slipping out of the futon to go about your usual business without waking me up despite being a hard sleeper yourself."

Hoozuki froze, not expecting such sentiment from one whose centuries of renown no geisha and prostitutes would be unacquainted. The voice that belied the jocund tone encompassed a shred of truth, and for a fraction of a second he suspected—hoped—that Hakutaku's proposition had been made in earnest. What would it be like not to leave that house in stealth out of concern for the morning after's awkwardness?

Hoozuki's fists clenched when he heard his adversary's flirtatious tone, "I was merely speaking in jest. Why don't you see for yourself tomorrow?" Breaking his seiza posture, Hakutaku parted his legs. "It's cold tonight; warm me up."

No undergarment covered Hakutaku's form. Although Hoozuki's reasoning was supposed to weigh the minimal attire of Hakutaku's choosing against such intemperate weather, the sight of the other man's exposed skin went straight to his groin, silencing all existing logics. As soon as he leaned his weapon against the wall of the entryway, he stepped out of his geta, placed the wooden clogs on the tataki, and ascended to the main part of the house.

In pursuance of his seducer, Hoozuki dashed across the tatami and halted next to Hakutaku in the blink of an eye, the tranquility of his expression in direct contrast to the frenzied tumult building in his mind. He took the sitting man's throat in his hands with strength enough to crush a mortal's windpipe, as he claimed his lips simultaneously, mouth crashing down in a hard and sharp kiss. Then those hands moved downwards, molding his partner as they pulled the captive's body hard against him.

With the heavy passion rising in the room, not a second was wasted. Hakutaku's fingers tightened in Hoozuki's hair—too hard for comfort, but the kisser was not in a position to tell the other man to cease. Instead, Hoozuki settled against Hakutaku, the bulk of him straining, entrapped between their stomachs. A single hand ran down Hakutaku's torso, the bathrobe's fabric tearing artlessly in its wake.

"You brute, this one is brand new!" Hakutaku protested. "A single tug is all it'd take to disrobe me; why couldn't you have the patience?"

The look on Hoozuki's face was answer enough. He kissed Hakutaku even more possessively, as though trying to swallow him whole. He stroked his palms over Hakutaku's back and slid his tongue into his partner's mouth as the celestial beast cradled his head and reciprocated with equal ardor.

Seeing Hoozuki's chest rise and fall at his quick, indrawn breath, Hakutaku did not bother to hide his smirk. The usually levelheaded Hoozuki had been reduced into something akin to a breathless fish outside water—so eager to the point of desperation—and he was the sole individual who could see that earnest side of Hoozuki.

Even though Hakutaku's legs shifted to admit Hoozuki between them, his partner still dipped down to grab him by the knees and then elevated them. His thighs were spread wide and his archrival pushed closer, dominating the space between them. His breath hitched in anticipation.

Aware of Hakutaku's manhood pressing against his thigh, Hoozuki parted his yukata just enough to liberate his erection from its loincloth. Then he shifted to align their bodies and sank between Hakutaku's thighs. He watched intently as the recumbent man's opening unfurled in admittance to his shape, while the woven straw of the tatami bit into his knees—a contrast to the smoothness of his partner's sheath.

As Hoozuki filled him in one conquering thrust, Hakutaku's head flopped back with its mouth open, gaping wide without emitting a sound; such was his way of approving without voicing it. His arms had wrapped around Hoozuki's shoulders, first for balance, and then for pain relief, nails digging into flesh. He remained in that position for several seconds before his head lolled on Hoozuki's shoulder and he exhaled.

From the slickness of his partner's insides, Hoozuki deduced that Hakutaku had lubricated himself beforehand. He muttered, "Tch."

Hakutaku sneered. "You always love to jostle in without any preparation."

"Only because it's entertaining to watch you in pain."

"Hmph, if hurting your fuck-buddy is the only thing you're decent at, no wonder I've never heard any rumor saying the Hoozuki-sama is great in bed."

"Rather than believing in baseless hearsays, why don't you see the proof for yourself right here, right now?" With that, Hoozuki thrust deeper into Hakutaku. He slammed with the ferocity of a hell tormentor, relentless enough to force Hakutaku's back against the floor. His fingers clutched like bands of iron where they dug into Hakutaku's thighs. The imprint of his hands on that fair skin would serve as a reminder that Hakutaku belonged to him for days to come when the slatternly man attempted other amorous dalliances in the brothels.

That Hakutaku had no choice but to clutch at Hoozuki's shoulders was not an unpredictable outcome; all the same, it did not make the superiority he acquired from rebuking his archrival taste any less satisfactory. "Still clingy at your age?"

Shades of cinnabar suffusing the tips of his ears, Hakutaku huffed, "Shut u—"

"Since when can a mere order silence me?" Hoozuki huskily interrupted, the full weight of his aroused body resting against Hakutaku.

Hakutaku's lips curled upwards with a knowing smirk. He purred, "My, my, couldn't you ask nicely if you wanted another smooch or two?"

Then he tangled his fingers in Hoozuki's dark hair and forced the demon's head down, his own lips slamming onto his partner's. As soon as Hoozuki swept his tongue out in response for this eager invitation, Hakutaku made a familiar soft moan in the back of his throat. He kissed the other man hard, cupping the back of his head, instigating a deeper kiss.

As Hakutaku pulled Hoozuki closer, the single-horned demon dipped his head farther, guiding the divine creature to slither his tongue past his lips. He sucked on that tongue and fondled his partner's buttocks whilst returning the kiss with greater vigor.

Acquiring the kiss was easy; the real problem was ending it—the impulse not to wrench himself free from that lethal temptation. Still, it was worth the risk.

This was not about the so-called romance. This was not about the illogical matter with the full capacity of turning brain into mush. This was all about triumph in taking what his archrival would normally refuse to give. The moment Hakutaku moaned, his pride dissipated into thin air. For that, Hoozuki's own twitches became a mere small price to pay.

When the kiss broke at last, Hakutaku loosened his death grip on Hoozuki, his formerly sleek hair now disheveled. He looped his arms around the latter's shoulders whilst emitting a contented sigh that was next to a derisive laugh against his partner's throat.

How Hoozuki loathed the ring of that laughter! Hakutaku ought to scream; he ought to pay for inflicting Hoozuki with various aberrances—accelerated heartbeat, fluttery sensation in the guts, and temporal absent of logic, to name a few. Hence, he stroked Hakutaku's virility, transforming that laugh into a gasp. The already taut flesh hardened further against his palm, and the gasp evolved into a moan the moment he rolled his thumb over it. He nipped at Hakutaku's lips before his head dived again. He grazed kisses against Hakutaku's neck that made the other man tremble and swept his tongue over Hakutaku's pulse, causing his partner to quiver even more. All the while, his hand embedded the memory of Hakutaku's shape into mind.

Only then did the two men roll their hips together, grinding against each other, moving in tandem as the heat began to build between them, rising and coiling in accompaniment to their laborious panting. Their focusnarrowed to the dripping of sweat and the straining of muscles and the slap of flesh hitting flesh.

Hoozuki pounded ruthlessly into Hakutaku. He pushed in deeper and deeper into the hot opening, relishing the primal scream and the shaking that wracked the celestial beast. He adjusted his speed and angle each time Hakutaku gasped, testing the spot that would elicit the loudest moan. Rough bites and bruising fingers clasped Hakutaku's hips, while hard thrusts made him shudder. No gentleness was involved, nor were soothing words. It was all about desire and lust, about filling the need that only the other could fill.

Hoozuki gave no mind to the change of their position when Hakutaku flipped him over, breathless as his partner rocked down against his shaft, the friction between them too much but at the same time not nearly enough. His hands at his rider's hips, he gazed through hazy eyes: hair tousled and a fervent flush of arousal emblazoning his cheeks, Hakutaku sat back atop of him, steadying himself with his hands on Hoozuki's chest. He was frozen in place, his body joined with Hoozuki's own, staring down with eyes that reflected only Hoozuki, nothing but him.

In that state, Hakutaku looked more entrancing than any creature throughout the 272 sub-divisions of hell. The creature straddling Hoozuki was enticing in the way he moved, moaned, and bit at his lip while he refrained from making too much noise … though it was not long before Hakutaku gave up on that altogether and let out a high-pitched, embarrassed mewl as he impaled himself on Hoozuki's phallus.

Abata mo ekubo. [The infatuated one mistakes a pimple for a dimple.]

Hoozuki trembled in the emotion he refused to pinpoint in words. Still, disregarding how stalwartly his lips imprisoned those thoughts, the increasing rigidity of his traitorous loins became the telltale of his hidden yearning.

Below half-lidded eyes, Hakutaku took delight in the way Hoozuki's razor stare carved into him as reddened fingertips caress the slopes and angles of his body! No, it was beyond that. It was an obsession, an insatiate appetite to overwhelm and devour that had been fermenting inside the daiou's most competent employee for a full month. A grin crooked Hakutaku's thin lips; how many creatures had the privilege to transform that normally insensate visage into such a famished one?

"Say how much you want me."

Hoozuki denied Hakutaku the satisfaction of a verbal exchange. He settled to grind his hips faster, sharp thrusts to counter his helplessness against the cataclysmic beauty above him. He pulled out and slammed back again, harshly, absent his usual finesse. He was not supposed to want this. Sex was meant to relieve his pent-up frustration, a mere tool to facilitate his effective work performance.

But then Hakutaku's hand pulled Hoozuki in for an invasive kiss that the demon convinced himself to be a mere enactment of lust. The brush of the celestial beast's mouth was light but certain, full of passion dreaded and craved with the single mind inside Hoozuki's head. The recipient's first reaction was not to react at all, reason benumbed and body immobilized. Yet when a moist tongue pressed itself into the gap between his lips, his barriers of self-restraint broke down.

Regardless their ages, no matter how many times Hakutaku had done this to him, the same heady spirals of pleasure coursed through Hoozuki's spine. He had lost count how many times he had dictated himself to believe that nothing ever transpired between them past physical intimacy, yet the heavenly creature always read his body and soul much too lucidly. The fire that had started from their mouths deluged his body with insuppressible tingles as Hakutaku claimed him through a covetous kiss. The searing sensations took over as their members contended: breath racing in tandem, tongues coiling against each other, bodies undulating together.

In his own way, Hakutaku proved that his kiss was the best mistake Hoozuki had ever allowed. His hand explored his partner's frame, tracing down the stoic man's contour until those sinful fingers could tease the jutting hip bone. His other hand caressed Hoozuki's nape, causing the demon's hair to stand up at the feel of it.

A smirk etched itself across Hakutaku's lips—Hoozuki was trembling with mad desire for him, breath shuddering against his lips. Without breaking the kiss fully, he whispered "harder" into the other man's mouth, gasping breathlessly when Hoozuki sped up his thrusts and dug his fingers into Hakutaku's buttocks.

Their breathing ragged, both men pressed towards each other more ardently. There was no rhythm to their movements; merely the frantic kneading of hands and hips and bodies. One penetrated in the likeness of a wild animal, grunting and pushing … pushing and grunting. The other thrashed about, toenails scratching the tatami. Despite the fresh blood that trickled down his groins, Hakutaku absorbed his partner's bestial passion, letting the heat burrow deeper inside him. Every deepening thrust sliced away the time they spent apart.

Judging from their position, the hard tatami floor must have been uncomfortable to Hoozuki's back, but he voiced no single complaint, too focused on the point where their bodies joined and too lost in Hakutaku's silken heat surrounding his girth.

Hakutaku rocked his own body, hips set in a bobbing rhythm on Hoozuki's lap, lost to the tossing of pleasure and the other man's heavy breathing. His frame bucked wildly. His entire being quivered. The searing masculinity gravid with desire continued to invade him, and his mind grew hazy through it all. He was squeezing his eyes shut, panting at every thrust. Against his better judgment, the furrow between his eyebrows deepened. Against his pride, his desperate fingers dug deeper into Hoozuki's skin. Yet, the most terrifying thing was how good it felt to be claimed by this man. Again and again his opening contracted and relaxed as if it was trying to draw the demon deeper into the core of his soul.

While moan after moan left Hakutaku's mouth, Hoozuki was equally incapable of entertaining himself voicelessly. At the very least, he intended to preserve decorum by restraining himself from drowning in pleasure, and yet … taking Hakutaku was a triumph itself. He was soaring not only from the sensation, but also the realization that Hakutaku wanted him so desperately, that Hakutaku was truly relishing everything Hoozuki did to him, that Hakutaku needed him indispensably.

Hakutaku tilted his head back, offering his neck to Hoozuki to nip and bite. Through his daze, he heard Hoozuki's low growl of desire muffling against his throat, and the occasional groan when deep penetration occurred. He arched his back, clinging tightly as gasps and grunts alike slipped past his lips—and that encouraged Hoozuki to quicken his pace.

What Hoozuki lacked in affectionate words, he made up for in enthusiastic movements. His hips drove in and out, plowing into Hakutaku's slender figure. He kept stabbing at the place where it affected his partner most, and the wooden planks underneath the tatami creaked at the intense quake of their wanton engagement. Beads of perspiration pelted from Hakutaku's nose and temple like molten lead onto Hoozuki's equally drenched chest. Hakutaku's body sank into Hoozuki with every thrust his partner made. And the world sank with the two men.

When Hoozuki jerked him off, rough yet thorough, Hakutaku whimpered. He did not once hold back his groans as his seminal fluid gushed forth between their bodies. He was in the hazy realm where all that mattered was the taste of Hoozuki's kiss, the conquest of Hoozuki's fingers, and the pulse of Hoozuki's flesh inside him.

The demon did not slow down—especially not with Hakutaku above him, his mouth spouting lustful moans as he came to his peak of desire, knees shivering next to Hoozuki's flanks as his eyes fluttered shut. Unceasing, Hoozuki bit his lip, commanding his mind to stay true to his course. How could his insides not twist when all Hakutaku did was scoring to his ecstasy like this?

Hoozuki groaned; he was nearly at his limit himself. Something about that man—that despicable cow—attracted him, agitated him, captivated him. His attention for the celestial beast made a mockery of his imagined self-control, he mused shakily amidst the maelstrom of his own desire. This was the heavenly beast with the sweetness of the Peaches of Immortality and the lethality of poison. And now, every part of Hoozuki's demonic body was screaming: more, more, more. However, he kept this to himself through painstaking control and gritted teeth.

Shimen soka. [Defeat is inevitable.]

His traitorous body triumphed over his mind at last, surging into a shattering climax that brought him both ecstasy and shame. His head tipped back, strenuous pants lapping against Hakutaku's cheeks as the grips on his thighs tightened. He came with a long shudder, continuing to hold the other man even after both of them had fully released their loads and their sated bodies lain in a heap amidst the tatami sheets. Hoozuki's warm breath burst forth against the slope of Hakutaku's shoulder.

It was a strange sense of rhythm and harmony. Each had forgotten all barriers, neglected their differences, and took delight in the other's breathing. Tomorrow, they would shower each other with contemptuous insinuations again, but for now, their union became the only thing in the world that mattered. They pretended that they were hallucinating as one draped his arms over the other and his partner nuzzled against his neck to respond in kind.

Out of an instinct rather than contemplation, Hoozuki reached for Hakutaku's hair and started stroking. That hair belonged to the divine embodiment of luck whereas he was a terrible demon of everlasting darkness, yet their differences meant nothing at the moment. Hakutaku was his and his alone.

After Hoozuki pulled out at last, he took a step back to survey his accomplishment: seed dripped down Hakutaku's thighs and red claw marks littered Hakutaku's hips. The thought that he was the cause of it all caused additional passionate waves to stir within Hoozuki; he could not help being complacent due to the fact that he was the one who had wrecked the celestial beast. That exquisite body seemed to have been created purely for his disposal—so complete was its response to his incitation: the contour of masculine chest heaving up and down with desire for him, flat stomach shivering with excitement at his every touch, smooth limbs tautening in his embrace…

Try as he might, Hoozuki could not be his usual imperturbable self—the more he strived to maintain his composure, the more he lost it. How could he tell his mind to stop yearning for Hakutaku when the rest of him did? His heart started thudding loudly as he was swept by a longing to weave himself into Hakutaku again until the latter could not stand up, could not leave for to Shangri-La, could not be separated from him for another long month.

"More," Hakutaku slurred, hips wiggling, perfectly aware that his provocation would lure Hoozuki to become even more empty-headed and dizzy than he already was. As though reading the demon's mind, he gathered his arms around Hoozuki's shoulders and pulled his zealous partner in another deep kiss.

OWARI