[There's a feeling of disappointment as Makoto shifts and shimmies, makes it so that their hips no longer align and Kazuya can't buck and grind out his satisfaction against him any longer. It doesn't last long, however. Not when Makoto tears into that same spot, moans into it licentiously and low enough that it quite literally reverberates through his gut and ends in another shiver. Another shout, another whimper and whine and it's only when he realize that Makoto is actually consuming him is there any sort of alarm in him. Just enough panic for his pupils to blow wide as he watches and jerks in surprise once, twice, before stopping. It's more reactionary than anything, like stubbing your toe and reflexively saying 'Ow' without there being any sort of pain.
There is pain here, to be certain. Pain in the way his flesh is stripped from his body like he's a still living sheep and Makoto the wolf, tearing into him with a ferocity unmatched by even the demons he knows. Even the demons who had previously attempted to make a meal out of him. It's a strange, perverse, fascinated horror he watches with, watches the enjoyment of Makoto's face, the noise of almost fervent relief and pleasure he makes in one. In it all, there's a hot, dark recognition. In watching the other demon feed on him, the urge to do so himself is put in his head. Why shouldn't he return the favour? Isn't this sort of thing he's watching now the same sort of thing he's been holding back from doing himself? From completely and utterly giving in to his own new urges, to hurt. To consume.
Kazuya wriggles underneath Makoto's touch, an awkward attempt to help him remove his pants, his boxers, the last vestiges of any sort of sensible modesty despite the fact they both gave that up when Kazuya had ever so politely allowed Makoto to tear his throat out with his teeth. All through this he nods, quick, punctuated with soft whimpers and gasps. Yes, someone had beaten Makoto to the punch. But that's hardly surprising is it? Given what he's gone through, how brazenly he shows just what he's survived. Of course someone else had gotten him. Someone else had gotten him in multiple locations from that very sensitive spot to the more ticklish one just above his hip that's a long, linear gash from his very first demon encounter.
Even more now, he wants to return the favour. To bite and consume Makoto in return, to take pieces of him and make him his own just as Makoto is doing to him now. Yes, his own spade mark darkens, but this is more than that; this is the darker nature Babel told him about. The darkness, the desire to make all things shudder before him. Makoto is satiating himself on him, and yes, there is a tautness to his muscles, but it's no longer just a reaction to pain and pleasure mingling, it's him, poised to strike and turn the tides and return the favour the moment Makoto wavers even slightly. For now though, he does a good job at distracting him, with his hand on his cock and his teeth carving out a small hollow in his skin.]
cw: blood, gore, light vore, cannibalism mention + predation mentions...
There is pain here, to be certain. Pain in the way his flesh is stripped from his body like he's a still living sheep and Makoto the wolf, tearing into him with a ferocity unmatched by even the demons he knows. Even the demons who had previously attempted to make a meal out of him. It's a strange, perverse, fascinated horror he watches with, watches the enjoyment of Makoto's face, the noise of almost fervent relief and pleasure he makes in one. In it all, there's a hot, dark recognition. In watching the other demon feed on him, the urge to do so himself is put in his head. Why shouldn't he return the favour? Isn't this sort of thing he's watching now the same sort of thing he's been holding back from doing himself? From completely and utterly giving in to his own new urges, to hurt. To consume.
Kazuya wriggles underneath Makoto's touch, an awkward attempt to help him remove his pants, his boxers, the last vestiges of any sort of sensible modesty despite the fact they both gave that up when Kazuya had ever so politely allowed Makoto to tear his throat out with his teeth. All through this he nods, quick, punctuated with soft whimpers and gasps. Yes, someone had beaten Makoto to the punch. But that's hardly surprising is it? Given what he's gone through, how brazenly he shows just what he's survived. Of course someone else had gotten him. Someone else had gotten him in multiple locations from that very sensitive spot to the more ticklish one just above his hip that's a long, linear gash from his very first demon encounter.
Even more now, he wants to return the favour. To bite and consume Makoto in return, to take pieces of him and make him his own just as Makoto is doing to him now. Yes, his own spade mark darkens, but this is more than that; this is the darker nature Babel told him about. The darkness, the desire to make all things shudder before him. Makoto is satiating himself on him, and yes, there is a tautness to his muscles, but it's no longer just a reaction to pain and pleasure mingling, it's him, poised to strike and turn the tides and return the favour the moment Makoto wavers even slightly. For now though, he does a good job at distracting him, with his hand on his cock and his teeth carving out a small hollow in his skin.]