[The blood-loss, he finds, dulls the pain after a bit, making him far, far more comfortable with the way he's being torn into by someone who may as well be a savage animal at this point, with the way he tears and rips and pulls the flesh apart from his throat. And while the edges of his vision blur, and there's a sort of weakness in the way he grasps desperately for Makoto, it also doesn't get any worse either. Instead, in that deliriousness he finds a certain giddiness too. That Makoto is enjoying this, enjoying the taste of his blood thick on his tongue, enjoying making a mess out of him and his throat and the room and bed in general. That he is, in essence, enjoying Kazuya himself passionately in a rather intimate aspect, leaving traces of him even if only in blood on the walls and bed and their clothes. Yes, his blood is disappearing, evaporating into nothingness, but with how much there is, how soaked into the sheets it is below them, it stays longer, lingering for longer than just mere seconds.
Makoto's voice feels far away in the moment he speaks, presses his hand to staunch the mess of his throat and Kazuya hisses a wet sound as the connection stings. Nothing he can't handle, and there's a sound that's almost like a gurgling laugh that comes next. He's not going anywhere, he can't, not with the way he's trapped between a wall and Makoto's body, with the way he eagerly is pressing into every last bit of touch he can get like a desperate, needy animal himself. Does he like the pain? Again, no. But it's also not so bad now, not so terrible the more he grows accustomed to it, the more the other demon chases it with the pleasant touch of his hands as he's forced lower and lower against the bed until his back is against the wet sheets, flush.
By then, the mess of his throat has mostly healed. Just enough to allow him to speak though he still has to swallow several mouthfuls of his own blood before he can manage that. A small price to pay to be able allow his contentment, his amusement, his enjoyment to be known, and Kazuya gives a satisfactory sound once he's able to.]
I'm not going anywhere.
[Is the first and only thing he says once he's able. The rest he says less with words, more with actions. His leg curls around Makoto's hip, encouraging, letting his hands fist tightly in the other demon's hair as he bites down now that he has the energy for it. Teeth against his ribs make him give a rasping gasp as the pain mingles with the pleasure as their hips connect. There's a spot, though. Just under his sixth rib and slightly to the centre, that when Makoto bites down, Kazuya shouts. Shivers and bucks against him just as hard as that pain he finds isn't really as painful as the rest of the bites Makoto has torn into him. It's anything but, and he scrambles a little, jerking to try and keep Makoto in that spot, to encourage him to bite and tear as he pleases so he can get more and more of that feeling.
It's also the location of another scar. A fist sized one that looks both jagged and smooth, like it'd started healing the same way his body does currently, and then like something that'd be more human. Uneven in it's formation. A parting shot from Loki while he was between being human, and being the fully realized King of Bel.
It's a sensation that isn't like the rest of the scars, which tingle dully with touch. It's sensitive, tender, and almost a little too much all at once when it's bitten. He was hard before, but only just. Now it feels like he's caught in a tide, between pain and pleasure and both are just as overwhelming as the other, mingling and mixing into something all together new and unknown to him, and all he wants is more. ]
no subject
Makoto's voice feels far away in the moment he speaks, presses his hand to staunch the mess of his throat and Kazuya hisses a wet sound as the connection stings. Nothing he can't handle, and there's a sound that's almost like a gurgling laugh that comes next. He's not going anywhere, he can't, not with the way he's trapped between a wall and Makoto's body, with the way he eagerly is pressing into every last bit of touch he can get like a desperate, needy animal himself. Does he like the pain? Again, no. But it's also not so bad now, not so terrible the more he grows accustomed to it, the more the other demon chases it with the pleasant touch of his hands as he's forced lower and lower against the bed until his back is against the wet sheets, flush.
By then, the mess of his throat has mostly healed. Just enough to allow him to speak though he still has to swallow several mouthfuls of his own blood before he can manage that. A small price to pay to be able allow his contentment, his amusement, his enjoyment to be known, and Kazuya gives a satisfactory sound once he's able to.]
I'm not going anywhere.
[Is the first and only thing he says once he's able. The rest he says less with words, more with actions. His leg curls around Makoto's hip, encouraging, letting his hands fist tightly in the other demon's hair as he bites down now that he has the energy for it. Teeth against his ribs make him give a rasping gasp as the pain mingles with the pleasure as their hips connect. There's a spot, though. Just under his sixth rib and slightly to the centre, that when Makoto bites down, Kazuya shouts. Shivers and bucks against him just as hard as that pain he finds isn't really as painful as the rest of the bites Makoto has torn into him. It's anything but, and he scrambles a little, jerking to try and keep Makoto in that spot, to encourage him to bite and tear as he pleases so he can get more and more of that feeling.
It's also the location of another scar. A fist sized one that looks both jagged and smooth, like it'd started healing the same way his body does currently, and then like something that'd be more human. Uneven in it's formation. A parting shot from Loki while he was between being human, and being the fully realized King of Bel.
It's a sensation that isn't like the rest of the scars, which tingle dully with touch. It's sensitive, tender, and almost a little too much all at once when it's bitten. He was hard before, but only just. Now it feels like he's caught in a tide, between pain and pleasure and both are just as overwhelming as the other, mingling and mixing into something all together new and unknown to him, and all he wants is more. ]