Claws
(For Jen)

"There you are."

Kuang Hu needed only look up to see the Rat leaning -- no, lurking -- in the doorway, the thin lines of his lips lifted in a smile. "You shouldn't sulk away from the rest of the party. It's horribly anti-social. It's likely to make people worry about you." He rapped his pale knuckles against the doorframe. "Oh, and by the way, mind if I come in?"

The Tiger, unsurprisingly, responded with a full-fledged sulk, turning away from his visitor and back to the window. "It's your house." Even had answered that yes, he in fact minded, he reasoned he would not have been left alone. Best to take the path of least resistance. He ran his fingers through his newly-shortened hair, feeling the increasingly familiar sensation of running out of hair nearly a foot sooner than his memory told him he should. "And you know I hate parties."

Behind him, the door closed with a soft click. A quiet skittering noise echoed the footsteps as Meishuu moved across the room and came to rest against the window, tilting his head toward his fellow cranky god. "Why's that? They're fun."

Kuang Hu did not even bother turning his gaze away from the orchard outside the window of his guest room. His room was lovely, neatly furnished with great taste and elegance; all the rooms of Meishuu's lodgings were similarly lovely. But even the loveliness was unfamiliar, and Kuang Hu found himself wishing for home, for anything more familiar to him than this overly formal landscape. "They're loud and unnecessary." His fingers ran thoughtfully over the dark ink tattoo high beneath his sleeve. "And full of people I don't care to deal with."

Sighing lightly, Meishuu leaned over until he eclipsed Kuang Hu's line of sight. "Great food, though, you have to admit." His half-moon smile blocked out all the trees in the orchard; his twin dark eyes looked nothing like the moonlight on the leaves that flowed like water in the wind.

"I don't have to admit anything," Kuang Hu answered, snarling a little with an irritation he mostly failed to keep from slipping into his voice. "And if you like your party so much, why are you here?"

Meishuu returned his perfect crescent smirk. "I wanted to make sure you hadn't run away." He shrugged slightly and added, as an afterthought, "And we were starting to run out of wine; I wanted to get out before things got ugly." A breeze rustled through the trees again, whispering a gentle roar, and Meishuu turned from the Tiger to the view from the window. "So, this is what you do for fun?"

"For fun?" Kuang Hu shifted in his seat, leaning more along the sill of the open window. "Fun generally doesn't involve coming to parties just because I'm expected to make an appearance."

Meishuu folded his arms across his chest and sighed airily again. "Well, that's a start. What do you do, then? I mean, other than sulk."

Kuang Hu finally turned deliberately to face the god who was both his host and unexpected guest. "Why do you care?"

Still smiling peacefully, Meishuu gestured carelessly with his hand. "Does it matter? I'm not filing it away to use for wicked purposes later." He wiggled his fingers in the air and grinned. "Ah hah, I know what the Tiger thinks is fun, I can ruin him!"

For a few moments Kuang Hu stared flatly at the Rat, as though he could scarce believe what had come out of his mouth, then rolled his eyes pointedly and turned away. "Go bother Feng. He's better to get a rise out of."

Meishuu raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Is that what you consider fun?" He chuckled a little, running his fingers thoughtfully up and down the sleeve of his deep blue shirt. Impeccably dressed in dark silks, Meishuu looked every inch the dignified host. "And last I saw, Feng was 'occupied' and would probably not care to be bothered." The wink in his eyes told Kuang Hu exactly what type of occupation kept the phoenix from becoming the object of his attentions at the moment.

Choosing neither to comment nor to give any visible reaction to this statement, Kuang Hu placed his hands on his thighs and stood, drawing himself to his full height; the top of his head loomed a few inches above Meishuu. "Well, it's late, then. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow," he said with undue politeness.

"Yes, you likely will." Surprising no one, really, Meishuu made no move to leave.

Kuang Hu crossed his muscular arms. "Then I bid you good night, Meishuu." His tone darkened; his eyebrows furrowed. He resolved to himself that he would not be so vague next time in his request.

Meishuu raised his eyebrows and managed to look vaguely hurt. "It's terribly early, don't you think? I mean, the sun isn't even rising." He gestured again to the scene outside the window; the sky had begun to suggest blue, to hint that there might be a dawn on the other side of the night, but was still mostly dark.

Kuang Hu's eyes followed Meishuu's guidance, then returned to regard his smiling host. "Terribly early, I'm certain. Enough of the night left for you to do ... whatever it is rats do at parties, I don't care." His long fingers absently rose to tug at one of his earrings.

Meishuu's eyes flitted briefly to the sparkle of light glinting off Kuang Hu's earrings. Transfixed slightly, he smiled. "Is it really so bad?"

"Is what so bad?" Kuang Hu cocked his head to one side in a completely unconscious gesture, a movement barely noticeable and yet enough to betray curiosity.

Meishuu moved a little closer, eyes still fixated not on Kuang Hu's face, but a little to the side. "To be here. To have me here."

Kuang Hu took a step instinctively backwards, trying to find what it was that had caught Meishuu's eye, perhaps to move out of its way and allow Meishuu to see it more fully. "I didn't say it was." His hand brushed against the elabourately carved wooden back of a chair; his fingers wrapped around its smoothly finished top.

Meishuu took an equal step forward, smile widening just a bit. "Do you have an early bedtime, then?" His voice resonated low and calm, smooth and soothing. He reached out to brush a fingertip along the edge of Kuang Hu's earlobe. "And I'm looking at these. They're distracting."

Despite his best efforts to maintain a stoic facade, Kuang Hu shivered. "They're not meant to be." He drew his face into an expression less of a frown and more of someone whose personal space had just been rather grotesquely violated. Briefly he lamented that he had allowed his other dinner companion to slip from his sight, but there was nothing to be done about that now.

Not here, anyway, not now, not with Meishuu staring at him with tiny black glass beads for eyes. The Rat laughed softly and batted at a hoop, making it glint and shine in the low light of the room. "Well, of course not. They're meant to be attractive." Dark, smiling eyes met with Kuang Hu's amber-edged ones. "Which they are, of course."

Kuang Hu pulled back, but did not pull away. The shiver worked its way down his spine again, almost painfully -- not pain in the force of sensation, but pain that he should shiver like this at all. "They're just earrings."

Meishuu moved a little closer, ignoring any concepts of personal space. He hooked his pinky in one of the larger hoops and tugged lightly. "Of course they are. That doesn't mean they can't be lovely distractions." He grinned, showing thin, sharp teeth. "You have good taste," he breathed softly.

That was enough. Kuang Hu began actively to distance himself from Meishuu's touch, but simply found any and all progress backwards halted by the chair and its matching desk. "They're just earrings," he protested again, this time a little more quietly. He was cornered, and had been cornered by a rat. This could lead nowhere good.

Leaning in closer, Meishuu placed his own hand on the chair for balance; his breath brushed warm against Kuang Hu's cheek. "Of course they are," he repeated. "Just little shiny earrings, hanging from a very nice set of ears." He tugged again, this time a little harder, and leaned in just enough so Kuang Hu could no longer see his face; the Tiger's eyes searched the room for a place to focus. "You can't fault me for admiring them."

Kuang Hu drew in a soft gasp though clenched teeth. "Meishuu...." he growled softly, a warning.

Meishuu's fingers brushed behind Kuang Hu's ear, half scritching, half-stroking, and with far more gentleness than should be possible for fingers equipped with rather lengthy fingernails. "Hm?" The sound buzzed against the Tiger's ear, backed by ticklish breath.

"Quit it." Kuang Hu twitched and turned his head away, shutting his eyes. "Just quit it," he gritted again, lowly. "I'm not in the mood for your games."

"We're playing a game?" Meishuu murmured softly, incredulous. "Tell me who wins, won't you?" With another brief laugh, he closed his teeth around one earring -- when had he gotten close enough that he could reach there with his mouth? Kuang Hu couldn't remember -- teeth clicking against one another as he nibbled at the metal and tugged at the connected flesh.

The Tiger came close to jumping out of his skin, pushing away so hard that the chair on which he was leaning toppled over with a crash; he backed up more, unconsciously in the direction of the high-postered bed that filled more than an appropriate amount of the chamber. His shoulders shifted as he breathed, his posture bent slightly. "I said quit it," he warned again.

Meishuu's eyes closed as he drew a slow breath. "Why?" He opened them again and followed Kuang Hu's retreat, moving close enough to rest a hand anew on the Tiger's broad chest. "...Would you rather I do things like we did last time?"

Breathing deeply, Kuang Hu made a rather concerted effort to glare at Meishuu, amber eyes dilating reflexively in the low light. "I told you," he snarled, "I hate parties. Go find your amusement somewhere else and leave me the hell alone." The level of sincerity in this request was anyone's guess.

Meishuu curled his hand into a fist against Kuang Hu's chest, bunching the fine fabric of his bone-white shirt in slender handfuls. "This isn't a party. It's just two of us." Fingers skimmed against the faintly exposed skin of Kuang Hu's stomach, the edges of Meishuu's fingernails pressing there sharp. "So, why?"

Kuang Hu winced visibly. "That's what I should be asking you." His fingers clenched into fists at his sides. It had been a party, several hours ago, a party in the true sense that the gods had their parties, but by now the evening had wound down to groups of twos and threes alone in private rooms. The only difference there being that the other parties had generally entered these rooms consentually and together.

"Because I want to." Laughter showed through from behind the words, soft and almost mocking. "Because it's been a long time, hasn't it?" Meishuu leaned close again, eyes half-closed as he pressed his soft cheek to Kuang Hu's slight stubble. "Because I found myself thinking of your claws tonight, and I decided that I missed them." He brought his hand to cup the Tiger's other cheek, effectively trapping his face.

Kuang Hu drew a deep breath, filling his chest with air; he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, unwilling to let this happen, unable to bring himself to stop it. "There are ten thousand other gods with claws and fangs and whatever-you-want. Most of them are even here tonight." He could feel his breath reflected against Meishuu's skin, warm and damp air. "Why not go bother them?"

Meishuu's teeth, small and too-sharp, closed on Kuang Hu's earlobe and pulled, gently. He let go only long enough to whisper, "Because I think yours are my favorite." His nails brushed across Kuang Hu's waist as he nibbled on the soft curve of his ear, small shivers of teeth barely pressing against skin. Kuang Hu clenched his eyes shut; his teeth closed firmly on his lower lip. For a moment, he allowed this, standing firmly, shaking, breathing in slow, measured handfuls of air, trying not to think about anything.

His attempts failed. With no small amount of force, he placed his palms flat on Meishuu's chest and pushed his pursuer away. "Quit it," he growled, rubbing his ear where Meishuu's mouth had been, trying to erase the feel of warmth and teeth and saliva.

The force of Kuang Hu's movement sent Meishuu staggering backwards a few steps, where he simply stood for a few moments, head down, hair hanging in front of his face. Outside, the wind, long-forgotten, whispered its way through the trees. He looked up slowly, wearing a somewhat wearied expression in his eyes. "So, you do want it the old way." He sighed, then seemed to forget any displeasure as a grin curved its way onto his lips. "If you insist."

Other animals may have their qualities, but few things can match a rat for sheer speed. He moved quickly, far too quickly to betray his intentions until his movement was already underway, and pushed Kuang Hu backwards, knocking him towards the bed with somewhat surprising strength. Kuang Hu winced as he hit the bed, not from the force of impact, as the bed was exquisitely soft, but from the knowledge that he had let himself fall. Meishuu's eyes glistened cruelly wet in the darkness. "And you still haven't given me a good why, Tiger."

As quick as the rat is the tiger strong, certainly, one of the strongest of all animals. Had this Tiger wished, no matter how fast the attack, he could have repelled it; he could have stood fast, could have lashed out in retaliation, could have pinned Meishuu to the back wall with only the effort needed to perform the most menial task. "Why?" Snarling, he pushed himself up on his elbow.

Meishuu braced his weight, hands flat on the bed, closing Kuang Hu between his arms. "You haven't given me a good reason why you want me to stop." The edge of his lip curved upwards. "We both know that if you really wanted me gone, you would have thrown me across the room ten minutes ago." He climbed onto the bed with no small volume of grace, perching almost on the Tiger's lap. "Well?"

A good question. An excellent question, in fact, and one that Kuang Hu had been pointedly not asking himself for the last several minutes. Exhaling sharply, he let himself slump back against the bed. "Because I don't care. Okay? Are you happy? Does it fill your little rodent heart with joy? I don't care." He turned his head with a resigned sigh to one side and let his fists relax. "So, you know, you do what you want, because whatever it is, I'm not in the mood for it."

Raising an eyebrow, Meishuu tilted his head slightly to the side; his long hair fell, framing his handsome face. "You don't care what I do?" He shifted his weight to one side, trailing his palm down the center of Kuang Hu's chest, down the line of tiny, perfect buttons that fastened his long shirt. "Not at all?"

"No, all right?" Kuang Hu shut his eyes. "Because it doesn't matter what I want, and I'm too tired to fight." Outside, a thin line of blue had begun to bleed over the horizon.

Meishuu settled his weight on Kuang Hu's hips, careful to distribute it in the most unnerving manner possible, and exhaled wistfully. "You know..." he leaned down to murmur against the Tiger's ear, pausing to nibble at another earring for a few moments. "You could always say no. No, I don't want to. I'd listen."

Kuang Hu's eyes snapped open; he turned with surprising suddenness to look at Meishuu, pulling just far enough away so he could focus. "No, then. Happy? No." In the silence, he drew in a deep breath and released it in a shudder.

As quickly as he had fallen with Kuang Hu to the bed, Meishuu sat up, leaning back on the Tiger's strong thighs; his expression read faintly and sincerely disappointed. "No? Are you sure?" He sighed, raking his fingers back through his long, dark hair. "What a shame."

Yet true to his word, he began to move backwards, shifting off the bed and sliding his feet towards the floor. He almost succeeded. But when Meishuu finally tried to pull his leg away, he found its motion hampered by a strong, veined hand, dusted with tattoos made by no inking needle, fisted firmly in the fabric of his pant leg.

Meishuu's fingers followed the shallows of Kuang Hu's knuckles as they curved around his tensed hand. "Yes?" He bent his head to look at the hand that held him fast, and his hair fell around him, blocking any view Kuang Hu might have had of his face. Idly, he began tracing the line of a tattoo with his long, well-manicured fingernails.

Kuang Hu stared at what he could see of Meishuu's face with a completely unreadable expression; the pale light reflected off the backs of his retinas, making his eyes appear hollow. Saying nothing, he simply breathed through parted lips; his grip did not relax.

Meishuu slowly turned his head upwards, smiling at Kuang Hu through the curtain of his hair. "What is it?" One long, sharp nail pushed up the fabric of Kuang Hu's shirt and traced a single shimmering, curving tattoo, up the length of the Tiger's forearm and back down again. Kuang Hu shivered, his shoulders shifting against the exquisite silk comforter beneath him. Using the hand already locked around Meishuu's garments for leverage, he pulled their bodies closer.

A satisfied smile curved onto Meishuu's lips as he settled his weight along the length of Kuang Hu's body, the tips of his hair brushing against the Tiger's face. "Do you not want me to go? Is that it?"

He pressed the side of his nail sharply against the most prominent of the markings on Kuang Hu's arm, evoking a soft yelp. Kuang Hu bit down on his lower lip even harder to keep from doing that again. His eyes closed and he turned away, like before, yet his hand did not let go of his companion's garment. His breathing rasped in his throat.

Meishuu nudged Kuang Hu's chin upwards with his nose, nuzzling his exposed throat, barely brushing his lips against the Tiger's adam's apple. His tongue darted out briefly to taste the skin there, just above the pulse. "Say something, Kuang Hu," he murmured, a low command. "Or else I'll leave."

For a moment, there was silence. Then the Rat could tell that Kuang Hu had spoken, for his throat and chest vibrated briefly with the low resonance of speech, but he could not make out the individual words. He bit at the Tiger's throat, quick and sharp. "I couldn't hear you." He shifted upward, nipping a patch of skin now darkened mystically by a tattoo. "Would you be so kind as to say that again?"

Kuang Hu gasped and brought his hand up to Meishuu's head, closing it tightly, almost painfully, in the Rat's hair. He glared at Meishuu with very thinly veiled anger and loathing, though both probably found their target more in the Tiger himself. "Not no," he whispered through clenched teeth.

Meishuu closed his eyes for a moment as Kuang Hu's hand knotted in his hair. "Not no..." He moved closer until each breath dusted against the other's lips, remaining just far enough away to prevent contact. "If not no, then what?"

If not no, then the opposite of no. Kuang Hu's lips trembled, slightly parted. His hand tightened painfully around the fine strands of Meishuu's hair as he pulled the Rat into a rough kiss. Teeth grazed lips and blood joined the kiss, but neither participant seemed particularly interested in trivial details such as from whence the blood came.

After far too short a time, Meishuu pulled back, breathing roughly. His tongue flicked away a bead of red on Kuang Hu's lip, and he grinned. "If not no, then what, Kuang Hu?" He pressed the points of his nails against the real, ink-and-skin tattoo on the Tiger's bicep, sensation agonizingly dulled through the fabric covering it. "Say it."

"Stay." Not what Meishuu had wanted to hear, Kuang Hu knew, but it was all he could manage. The word came out as a growl in the most literal sense of the word, a sound that could have echoed the from the throat of a feline verbatim, only both gods knew it as a word, and as a command. Kuang Hu's tongue brushed the inside of his lower lip and tasted warm copper; it was he who had been bitten.

"Close enough," Meishuu breathed, and kissed him again, although the touch was far more teeth than lips, nibbling and pulling, drawing forth more blood now from both their mouths. In a fluid wriggle, he pushed them both further onto the bed; he hooked his leg underneath one of the Tiger's knees, drawing them apart just slightly.

Kuang Hu let his body be moved, but refused any suggestion that he might let go of Meishuu. He simply was not willing to relinquish quite that much control. They lay crosswise on the bed, and his feet hung over the bed; he moved them against one another and his slippers fell off his feet, landing softly in a pile on the ground.

Closing the kiss with one last bite, Meishuu moved on to nibble a trail along the edge of Kuang Hu's jaw, pausing briefly enough to tug at the Tiger's short, coarse goatee with his teeth. Deftly working a hand between their bodies, he began to pull open buttons; slowly, too slowly, ivory white fabric parted to reveal the darker skin beneath. "What do you want, Tiger?" he whispered against Kuang Hu's ear. "Tell me."

Kuang Hu shuddered and turned away, exhaling a bitter breath and exposing his long throat. Meishuu's hands made short work of his fine shirt, revealing the tips of tattoos reaching around from Kuang Hu's back along the sides of his ribs. His chest, muscular and broad, looked as though it had been painted with the faintest sheen of oil; the tattoos shimmered against his skin.

Meishuu's back arched artistically into a curve that would have seemed uncomfortable and unnatural on anyone else; frowning at the silence, he leaned down to nibble at a tattoo that came to a point just below Kuang Hu's collarbone. "Speak up," he hissed enticingly. "I can't hear you." His teeth sank pointedly into soft flesh.

With both hands now, Kuang Hu reached up and grabbed Meishuu's shoulders. "Fuck me," he snarled. "Okay? Happy? Gods, I told you I'm sick and tired of playing, so just fuck me." Though he kept his nails short, they still managed to be sharp, and left marks through the black silk of Meishuu's shirt as he pressed down hard.

Meishuu leaned his head back, hissing in a breath through his teeth. "It's not a game," he whispered, voice higher, almost shrill now. "I just want to be sure." He leaned back long enough to deal with the buttons of his own shirt, letting it slip gracefully off his shoulders and pool against Kuang Hu's thighs. The sound it made as it caressed the Rat's skin was reminiscent of the night wind through the trees. Meishuu smiled down at the Tiger, too pleased with himself, far too satisfied; he rubbed his palm against the soft skin of Kuang Hu's stomach and laughed. "That's all."

That which gave Meishuu cause for mirth amused Kuang Hu not at all; an observer might have been given cause to think that the two were somehow having two completely different conversations and simply inhabiting the same space. His hands stroked Meishuu's upper arms, freed of their fabric constraints; his fingers registered how fragile the bones seemed there, how easy they would have been to snap. Meishuu made a soft trilling noise as the Tiger's hands traced over tattoos, skin against fever-hot skin there; his hand traced down from the Tiger's soft stomach to settle over the rise of Kuang Hu's cock, squeezing it through thin pale fabric. His smile remained fast, lips in a thin line, and a smirk curled at their edges as he withdrew his hand.

By now, that was unacceptable. Kuang Hu looked up and growled a growl of pure discontent; Meishuu, as though he had been waiting for that precise expression, hooked his fingers in the soft drawstring of Kuang Hu's pants and began to pull them away. Settling his head back against the bed, Kuang Hu growled again, and meant each growl as much as he had meant anything. His hips arched up, trying to find friction against Meishuu's hand and feeling nothing but the slickness of silk; finally naked, he stretched out on the bed, rubbing his skin against anything it could touch. The tattoos ached, quite simply, a deep physical ache that cried out to be touched.

Meishuu did not settle back into place again right away, instead spending a few long seconds stretched to the side of Kuang Hu, just watching and trailing his fingers down the length of the Tiger's languid body. "You're beautiful, Tiger," he whispered, a laugh colouring his voice. He stretched away only long enough to slip out of his own pants and retrieve a small bottle of oil from the bedside table; the houses of gods are well-stocked, indeed -- after all, this was his house. He bowed his head down to the Kuang Hu's chest and rested his lips at the tattoo that curved just over his heart; after a few beats, he bit down hard.

Under other circumstances, perhaps, the roar which Kuang Hu cried out would have brought concerned servants running in droves, but as that night was a party, circumstances were far from ordinary, and strange noises in a house of festive gods are nothing uncommon. Hissing still, Kuang Hu arched his spine and brought his hands up to Meishuu's back, drawing his hands down raggedly. In the wake of his fingers lay long red welts.

Meishuu's echoing noise may perhaps have sounded nowhere near as impressive, yet was certainly no less intense -- a short, throaty trill followed a hissing gasp as he keened forward, hard cock pressing against the edge of Kuang Hu's hip. He hooked a leg again around the Tiger's thigh and forcefully pulled his legs apart, at the same time tracing the curve of a tattoo downwards with the tip of his tongue.

Kuang Hu yowled again, softer now, but with the same fervour; his claws hung in Meishuu's skin, pressing firmly into the lower curves of the Rat's back, waiting for the call to scratch again. He hissed, gritting his teeth and writhing gently as Meishuu nibbled at the taper of one mark. The muscles of his back tensed, and he dug in deeper, trying to pull their bodies closer together.

The Rat shivered as the sharp edges of nails pressed into the thicker tattoos on his back; he wriggled once, just enough to make sure the sensation of his cock sliding against Kuang Hu's hip would be felt. The moan the movement evoked from Kuang Hu assured him that it was, and he smirked, self-satisfied. His own nails -- longer, but mercifully not as sharp -- skimmed along the Tiger's inner thigh, leaving the faintest red trails behind them. "Do you want me, Tiger?" he whispered, voice strangely soft.

Kuang Hu snarled, showing slightly elongated canines. "Yes," he managed fairly easily, though only so easily because he had by then passed the point of shame or rational thought; later he would think, and later he would find every reason hate himself, but that would be later. Later was not now. Now he knew what he wanted. "You, damn you, I want you. Gods, I want you."

Meishuu made no sharp reply, no pointed retort; he simply moaned hotly against Kuang Hu's chest and reached for the bottle he had retrieved earlier. He almost gnawed at Kuang Hu's shoulder as he slicked his fingers, biting too hard against ultrasensitive skin. "Good," he breathed, pushing first one finger inside of Kuang Hu, then another, too quickly too be comfortable, surely.

But somehow it was not enough. The Tiger turned his face, muffling his mouth against a nearby pillow to keep from roaring aloud again. One of his hands let go of Meishuu's back to hold the pillow there; the other continued to scratch down Meishuu's back again, this time surely drawing blood. No, not enough. More. Faster.

Something in the walls skittered as Meishuu cried out, causing Kuang Hu's eyes to snap open. Several somethings skittered, in fact, scratching between the walls as the Rat pulled the Tiger's legs up to rest against his thighs and curled an long arm beneath his hips. He swept his still-slick fingers over his cock and leaned close in. Pressing his nails into the base of the Tiger's spine, where one of the largest tattoos burned, Meishuu thrust into him, fast and harsh as the skittering scratching sounded out from the walls, the ceiling, the floor.

No longer concerned about silence, Kuang Hu let go of the pillow in order to devote his whole attention to what appeared to be an attempt to remove the skin from Meishuu's back with his fingernails. Meishuu's fingers at the small of his back sent a burn all the way up spine, to his neck, to his brain; Kuang Hu growled inarticulately, stopping only to gasp in lungfuls of air.

Meishuu screamed shrilly, arching back further into the tearing claws. His nails dug further into Kuang Hu's skin, though never quite enough to draw blood, and his hips begin to move, pumping in a rapid, harsh rhythm. His eyes were open, dark and glassy as he stared down at Kuang Hu with parted lips arranged in no semblance of a smile. His stare found no return, though, not from eyes shut tight. Neck bent back and throat exposed, Kuang Hu looked almost as though he were an animal, dying. After a while, his cries subsided, replaced with ragged attempts at filling his lungs with enough oxygen.

Though neither could see it from where they were, Kuang Hu's claws had worn into Meishuu's back a bloody rose garden, scratches crossing over the curves of tattoos, running parallel with them, trickles of blood following the bends of the lines instead of slipping straight down with gravity. Meishuu leaned down and closed his teeth on Kuang Hu's exposed throat, pulling at the skin enough to leave marks that would be faded by morning, but burned angrily now. The hand that did not claw at the Tiger's back curled up around his hip, slipping between their bodies to curl long fingers around his cock and squeeze tight.

Kuang Hu's panting became a distinct moan. Once more his hands moved down Meishuu's back, unconsciously twining and turning along the lines of finely decorated skin, nicking and cutting into the most sensitive places without even knowing they did so. The pressure of teeth against his neck made his breathing rasp, and he moaned again.

Meishuu thrust, shallow and deep, and made a small noise -- almost a whimper, not quite a squeak -- near Kuang Hu's ear. His hand moved, stroking, as his nails slipped up the Tiger's back, leaving unseen red lines. Kuang Hu shivered as the Rat latched his teeth around a single hoop earring again, nibbling and chewing on skin and metal with uncontrolled need. Meishuu, breathing heavily in Kuang Hu's ear, thrust again and again, faster and more painfully each time, until it built beyond handling and Kuang Hu shut his eyes.

The roar that ripped from Kuang Hu's chest as he came was probably loud enough to wake at least the wing of the house, if not the whole of it, yet he found himself strangely unable to care. For a final time he tore at Meishuu, hips arching, feeling the warm wetness spreading between their bodies. For several seconds he held himself like this, back bent, shoulders supporting his weight, gasping soundlessly with lips still widely parted even after running out of air and sound. And then he collapsed, hands falling back onto the bed, fingernails tinted red.

A few seconds later, the walls screamed, screeching and scratching an echo to the Tiger's roar. Meishuu, however, arched back in sharply contrasting silence, eyes closed and lips parted in a wide, soundless cry. He shuddered like this for a long while, nails finally pressing against Kuang Hu's back not hard enough to break skin, but just barely shy of the necessary pressure. Then the walls fell silent, and with a soft whimper, he collapsed weakly against Kuang Hu's chest. For a long moment, nothing moved.

Slowly, Kuang Hu blinked a few times and brought his hand again to Meishuu's back, this time not to claw but to stroke slowly. His fingers came away slick and dark. Meishuu shivered at the sensation and just barely laughed. "I'll have to sleep on my stomach tonight," he murmured into Kuang Hu's throat.

Kuang Hu exhaled slowly and shut his eyes. "Are you complaining?" He knew he should have been angry, should have been upset at this invasion of his privacy, at his own weakness ... but he simply could not find the energy to do so. He tasted the inside of his lip. Still bleeding.

Meishuu laughed again, this time with no derision in his voice. "Not at all. Hate to stain the covers, though."

Blearily, Kuang Hu attempted a response, but mostly failed. Lifting his hand, he examined at his fingertips again, then the form slumped atop his own body, then his fingers. And for the first time in a very long time, he smiled the ghost of a smile. "Move over."

Meishuu lifted his head up enough to raise an eyebrow at Kuang Hu, perplexed; after a moment, he returned the soft smile. He shifted over to lie beside him, flat on his stomach on the bed, sprawling bonelessly. Holding himself coherent admirably well, Kuang Hu eyed Meishuu's back, seeing the places where the lines of his nails crossed, then ran parallel, then followed the lines of the tattoos -- already fading -- of Meishuu's skin. The scratch marks were a different sort of tattoo, and when they faded they would fade permanently, but for now not even Meishuu himself could make them go away.

Smiling to himself now, Kuang Hu leaned down and dragged his tongue along the rawest of the scratches. Meishuu hissed in a breath through his teeth, then let it out in a pleased sigh. "You have a rough tongue, you know," he murmured, mostly into the bed.

"Do I?" Kuang Hu repeated the motion, gently enough not to re-open the quickly healing marks, but enough to clear away the blood. Pulling his body as closely to Meishuu's as he could, he let his feverish skin have something for contact while it cooled down. He pressed his softening cock against Meishuu's thigh, feeling it stir gently with a familiar tenderness. No, he told his body, not again. Not tonight.

Meishuu made a soft trilling sound and leaned into the touch. His hand, resting by his side, moved slightly; his fingers twitched and brushed what of Kuang Hu's body they could reach. "Mm-hmm." He turned his head to the side, watching Kuang Hu through heavy-lidded eyes. "Taste good?"

Like copper and wine, like anger and desire, like the end of the world, like betrayal, like fucking someone you hate, like begging the person you hate to fuck you because it's better than being alone. Kuang Hu neither answered nor acknowledged the question had been asked. In no particular hurry, he finished, then collapsed next to Meishuu, also on his stomach.

After a few minutes, Meishuu curled an arm around Kuang Hu's waist, moving closer. "It'd be awful for me to have to put on clothes and leave, I think."

The observation was met with silence for a very long time, almost long enough to convince Meishuu that Kuang Hu had actually fallen asleep. Awful though he may have considered it, he withdrew his arm in preparation to leave. But his retreat was stopped by a soft breath. "You don't have to go."

Meishuu smiled softly and brushed his fingertips across the crescent-shaped nailmarks at the small of Kuang Hu's back, marks almost completely gone. "Thanks."

Kuang Hu growled quietly and turned his back to Meishuu, yet made no motion to remove the Rat's arm, draped anew around his waist. The glow of dawn crept in through the windows, and the sound of the night wind had been replaced with the chittering of little birds that sounded almost nothing like the scratching of little mice. Almost. Deliberately not thinking about waking, Kuang Hu shut his eyes and slept.

Love, Whitney and W2