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fluffydice · 2 months

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Does this count as a study break

Anyway I'm sorry for being so based and cool all the time (having adhd) and writing when I get excited about an idea (having no self-control)

TW for references to cannibalism, nothing really explicit but there is blood. like that's the main focus of this. :3 also nudity but they are both pretty ace to me so it's not meant to be sexual,,,

Wordcount: 1848

It becomes…weirdly normal, after a bit.

And no, not even ‘after a while’. It doesn’t take years for Aren to get used to it. He doesn’t even really notice it, the way something that should turn his stomach eventually just warms it with that bubbling tang of familiarity.

It isn’t sudden. There isn’t a click in Aren’s brain of something sliding into place, of a piece of knowledge he’d been pushing against finally settling into one of the folds. He doesn’t know when or how it happens, just that it does—and he only notices once he sees Kusuo suddenly appear in the kitchen, stumbling and gripping the counter for balance.

There’s a healthy, baby-pink flush on his cheeks, rosy and redundant with something very obviously alive. It matches his hair, Aren thinks almost inanely, and complements the deep red dripping from…well, just about everywhere.

For all his prim and properness, you’d think he wouldn’t be a messy eater. But Aren can’t quite blame him.

The thoughts on his lover’s appearance aren’t what makes him pause. Aren’s always had a thing for seeing people stepping away from a fight, clearly victorious. A residual of his gang days, probably.

(Hopefully.)

It’s when Kusuo spares him a single glance before padding off, still lacking his usual grace as if he were drunk. It’s when Aren stands up to look over at the laminate of the counter and thinks, ‘I’ll need to disinfect that when I get a chance,’ that he pauses.

Rolls the statement over in his head. Flips it over like a stone, trying to see what creature lies under it.

How…casual. Quaint, even. It feels almost domestic, the ease of the thought. Like he’s lived long enough with his partner to grow and love his quirks.

It’s true. He does love Kusuo, in a way he doesn’t think he’ll ever love anyone again. But did ‘quirks’ really cover it? Really?

‘No,’ Aren’s thoughts hum distantly, even as he squats down to grab the disinfectant wipes from under the sink. ‘It doesn’t.’

It doesn’t.

When did this happen? When had Aren just settled into this equilibrium like it was no big deal?

…Was it even a big deal to him?

From behind him, Aren could hear the shower turn on. Their shower. In their room, in their apartment. It was routine. Kusuo was a mess, obviously, and he liked to be clean. As Aren wipes away the mess Kusuo had left, he thinks about what his boy would be doing right now. Thought about the way the blood would be painted across the pale canvas of his skin, the sound of his clothes dropping and the pretty slope of his back and his calves and his everything as he undressed.

Aren grabs another wipe and gives the countertop one last pass over before tossing them both in the trash. His mind is still a few feet away, in the shower where Kusuo is. Aren’s thoughts buzz with a memory, one that recalled the comfortable, soothing intimacy of being stripped bare with someone who didn’t expect nor want sex.

It’s a common scene. The one that isn’t as familiar is the one he’s focusing on, the one from exactly one month ago. It’s the one where Kusuo had swiped a bloodied water droplet that had been trailing valiantly down his own arm, and had pressed the finger to his mouth with a satisfied hum, and Aren had watched and loved and wanted.

Kusuo has always been so food-driven, hasn’t he? And even knowing exactly what sustenance it was that had made the man's eyes sparkle with delighted stars, Aren's heart had still skipped a beat.

The way it still did now.

One moment, he’s throwing away the wipes. The next he’s speed-walking to the bathroom without so much as a second thought, already shucking his shirt and letting it fall haphazardly on the ground. He opens the door more aggressively than he intends to while he tugs down the rest of his clothes.

He shuts the door behind him to keep the heat in. Aren has always been so grateful that their shower has a glass door, and now is no different. A pale hand wipes away some of the steam from inside, and Aren is met with the sight of his beloved’s coy smile—teasing and imperious, like he knew it was only a matter of time before Aren came tripping after him.

Aren steps over Kusuo’s clothes. ‘We’ll have to see if any of it can be cleaned before tossing them,’ he thinks automatically, and it’s just another reminder of how normal Kusuo’s…diet…has become.

Was it Kusuo who’d brought this easy acceptance upon Aren? He’d always had the capacity to change people, even just by fucking existing. He’d drawn them all in back in highschool, the way the sun conducts the movement of the planets. Oh, for sure, Aren and everyone else had been forces on their own. That was undeniable.

But whether he liked it or not, Kusuo was the star, their center. The brightest, the hottest, the one who burned fastest.

He tugs open the shower door. Kusuo obligingly makes room for him, smiling up at him pleasedly. The water sprays over Aren’s head, already dripping into his eyes. He’s always thought he looks silly with his hair wet, but that’s never been an issue with Kusuo. He’s still gorgeous, even as he dyes the water a nearly blaring red.

Aren could see how people could underestimate him, why he himself had underestimated the boy.

Small, passive, unobtrusive, skittish. Doe-like, maybe, if you didn’t know him at all.

Kusuo’s lips split around his smile, and his fangs push against the confines of the plump barrier. Aren can’t help it: he leans down to press a kiss on him. The blood evidently hasn’t all been washed out, and the sudden burn of nostalgia at the coppery taste has Aren pressing in eagerly for more.

Kusuo’s teeth press against Aren’s own lips like a warning. Aren delights in it, has adored danger like a brother ever since he was old enough to put a name to the sensation.

What a surprise it must be to the people Kusuo hunted; those who expected him to bolt at the sound of a twig and instead were met with the incisors of a predator.

Right then, sighing delightedly into the kiss, Aren realizes it wasn’t Kusuo who had changed him.

No, Aren had done all of that himself. He’d been a fool to ever think that dating this boy in the first place said nothing about Aren’s own character. It said a lot: about the extent Aren was willing to put up with—and actively cherish—concerning the people he calls his own.

The only reason he hadn’t been used to all of this before was because he hadn’t lived with Kusuo. Now that this has happened a mere three times in the same amount of months—

At least no one could say Aren wasn’t adaptable. Had Kusuo’s tastes ever even bothered him at all, or had he really just been curious?

Kusuo doesn’t pull back, but his voice still rings through Aren’s head. “What if the guy had a bloodborne disease?” He teases, even as Aren is swiping a bold tongue over the fronts of the boy’s teeth to get the rest of the damning fluid. “What would we do then?”

Aren, unfortunately, does have to pull back to answer. He does so grudgingly, if only to indulge the playfulness Kusuo reserves for a very special few. “You could just reverse time on me, no?” He offers. Admittedly, his knowledge surrounding the particular intricacies of that power have always kind of escaped him.

Aren pauses. “Do you…think I could get like an STD or some shit from that?”

“I wouldn’t have let you kiss me if he’d had one,” Kusuo laughs.

Aren doesn’t even have to ask if Kusuo could catch one. It isn’t blood that runs through his boy, after all. “Would you know?” He asks despite himself.

“Yeah. They taste…” Kusuo cocks his head, glancing away, mock-shy. Aren knows him well enough to see the minute curl of amusement in the corners of his eyes and mouth. “Spicy.”

Maybe Aren should be horrified at the laugh that bubbles through him, frothing like—well. But he isn’t. Not in the slightest.

What does that say, what does that say?

Kusuo tuts verbally, then reaches out to coax Aren’s arms into wrapping around his waist. The skin to skin contact feels good, and Aren can’t help but lean down slightly and nestle into the crook of his baby’s neck. His mind rumbles with satisfaction, and Aren knows, deep down, it’s because he has such a powerful force of nature willingly tucking himself into his arms.

Powerhouses, man. Aren has always had a thing for them, and there isn’t a stronger one on Earth than the one he’s holding right now.

“You think too much,” Kusuo suddenly says. He leans in all the same, pressing into his clavicle, and Aren doesn’t think he imagines the feather-light, playful scrape of teeth against his skin: a gentle, half-admonishment. A joke, if Aren wants, or a need for reassurance, if Aren is willing to read deeper.

‘Tell me I’m not too much for you,’ Aren can almost hear Kusuo thinking. ‘Tell me it doesn’t matter to you, that you still want me, that you love this thing that I am.’

That was Kusuo for you, though, always giving people an out. He always made sure to offer a way to let your eyes skate by and your ears to hear but not really listen.

Aren had never taken the offer before, though, and he doesn’t think he ever will.

Was telepathy really that exclusive? Sometimes Aren thinks that he loves his darling boy so much that he’s crawled into him. It’s like Aren knows when Kusuo’s stomach begins to cramp with a hunger only one thing can satiate, and knows just how fast his favorite boy’s heart beats when Aren kisses the leftovers from the corners of his pink mouth like a begging dog.

“It’s about you,” Aren replies easily into Kusuo’s skin. What Kusuo does to his prey, to the people he’s decided deserve it most, is nowhere near as gentle, Aren knows. Maybe he’s reading too much into it, but it still makes his chest cramp with the sheer love swelling in it, knowing that there’s no greater sign of trust from a carnivore when they let you place your mouth on their neck. Especially after they had just done the same to something else.

Like sees like, maybe. Aren ghosts his hands up and down the firm line of his lover’s deceptively slight form, knowing his hands are wiping away the last of the bloody water that’s dripping off the other man. “It’ll always be you,” he huffs, and he doesn’t fear anything in the moment—even when Kusuo’s teeth suddenly settle around a chunk of his skin, less cautious than earlier but still just as harmless.

To Aren, it simply feels like the man’s form of a passion-drunk kiss.

#IM SORRY OKAY #gripping the GROUND BENEATH ME #nonsexual intimacy and nudity I LOVE YOU!!!#i think i was just. having a day today. evil never left even after the pills yadayada #hope someone likes this at least...even if it's. about love and. eating people.#kubosai #saiki k #fluffy writes a fic #fluffy creates a world #cross posted on ao3

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