Battle Lust | By : DHaugsby Category: Gensomaden Saiyuki > General Views: 733 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Gensomaden Saiyuki, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: Saiyuki is owned by Minekura Kazuya
The smell of blood and
death hung heavy in the air, bodies littering the celestial floor of the
Heavenly Hall. Gods who were immortal,
who thought themselves invulnerable, lay dead – cut down by three of their own.
“Oi, Homura. We should leave.” Zenon broke the silence, his voice strained with an undercurrent
of residual aggression, his lit cigarette bobbing with the motion of his lips and
waving a stream of smoke before his face.
“Not yet,” the war
prince answered from his position sprawled in the large throne at the head of
the hall, “It would be a shame to let
such a sight be wasted. Enjoy it.” Homura smiled over at the soldier.
“Enjoy it,” Zenon
repeated to himself as he stepped between bodies. He refused to look at the faces of the dead, not wanting to see
the visages of those he knew. Homura
watched him.
The third person of the
three stood slightly off to the side, seemingly somewhat detached from the
other two. But he was still one of
them. “It has begun,” Shien
stated. The willowy god seemed to make
a point of studying each and every face of each and every god lying dead on the
marbled tiles.
“Yes. The wheels are now in motion.” Homura stood from the throne, his sword
still blazing and his bi-colored eyes still trained on Zenon. He watched as the god bent and picked up a
rifle that a guard had tried to use to defend himself, but of course a weapon
like that was no good against another god.
Zenon ran his hands over the barrel, as if exploring it, then slung it
over his shoulder. “It is time to
descend to the world below where my brother, Son Goku, now roams.” He surveyed the destruction he and his comrades
had wrought. Holy blood and gore
covered his cape and was spattered on his hands and face, painting him in the
color of the start of his revenge.
“Then let us go. We are done
here.”
“Hai,” Shien responded,
phasing out.
“Hai,” Zenon agreed,
sharing a brief look with Homura before he, too, phased out.
Homura took one last look
at the carnage, a smile of satisfaction and anticipation softening his
mismatched eyes. Giving a last look
over the hall, he, too, phased out.
***
He had chosen an old,
ruined manor at the edge of an encroaching forest. The building and grounds had been abandoned a scant decade or two
– a blink of an eye to a god – but still stood secure. Homura walked the empty rooms, waiting,
unwashed from his massacre. His
adrenaline still surged – not just from the recent carnage, but also for what
was to come.
He didn’t have to wait
long. A minor disturbance of energy
announced the arrival of whom he was waiting for and he turned toward the
entrance of the room he stood in, seeing Zenon stride through the doorway. He studied his soldier, looking for signs of
injury or distress. Blood still covered
the ginger-haired man and Homura’s heart sped up in anticipation of smelling it
on Zenon. The rifle was still slung
over his shoulder and he stood just inside the room, starring hard at his
prince.
“How do you fair, Zenon? Were you injured at all?” Homura inquired as
he approached his battle-scarred comrade.
“No, I didn’t take a
single hit. It was too easy compared to
subjecting youkai.” He swung his new
rifle off his shoulder and left it leaning against the wall, as he faced his
prince.
“Was it? You found it so easy to kill?” Homura strode close enough to see the rapid
rise and fall of Zenon’s chest and hear his excited breathing. His own wasn’t much better. “You had seemed disturbed earlier.”
“Not disturbed so much
as unsettled. Surprised it wasn’t as
difficult as I thought it would be,” Zenon replied.
Homura reached out and
rubbed some of the dried, flaking blood off Zenon’s cheek and touched an area
where it had caked into his hair. “You
have been baptized in the blood of your brethren. How do you feel?”
“I feel …
strange.” Zenon’s own hands were
fingering the stains of blood covering Homura, many still damp. His uncovered eye was dilated and intense. “My heart is-“
“-pounding,” Homura
finished for Zenon, his palm pressed against the hard beat in his soldier’s
chest. “And adrenaline is still rushing
through your veins. Your muscles are
still tensed in anticipation of another attack. Your whole being is exhilarated over being alive and having
vanquished your enemies.”
“Yes. Yes, yes, and yes! I had no idea!” He cupped
his hands behind Homura’s head and drew him close enough to speak his words
into the war god’s mouth. “This is what
you feel every time you return from a battle?
Do you feel this power that comes from the knowledge that you actually
do hold another’s life in your hands?”
“Yes, every time,”
Homura breathed, then their mouths were too occupied to talk as they joined
them together in a hungry, desperate kiss.
Zenon devoured his prince’s mouth, sinking his tongue inside to slide
full length against Homura’s, their teeth scraping together.
“I want more,” Zenon
rasped as he pulled his mouth away from Homura’s. “I want to smell more blood and hear the screams of my
foes. I want to obliterate an army and
fuck you amongst the remaining carnage.”
He grabbed Homura’s hips and ground them into his own, showing his
prince how aroused he was. Homura’s own
erection was just as pronounced.
“Then come, Zenon. A band of youkai is settled a small distance
from here – do you feel their aura?
They are crazed from the minus wave and unpredictable – slaughtering
everything in their path. Come.”
“Yes. Yes, Homura. Let us go find them.”
In a blur of air, the
two traveled the short distance to where the band of forty or fifty youkai
caroused around several small campfires.
They were in the throes of a feast from their latest village massacre,
obviously still filled with their own blood lust as they fought amongst themselves
and passed around those few humans still alive for their carnal pleasures.
Homura looked down at
the corrupt revelries and grinned, the anticipation of the coming fight sending
endorphins flooding through him as he and Zenon alighted on the ground just
outside the youkai line. Zenon, eager
for the rush of power, strode forward and un-slung his new rifle. Homura reached out and stopped him long
enough to devour his mouth in another hard, ravishing kiss. He shoved the soldier up against a tree and
pressed himself against him, rocking.
Sinking his fingers into ginger-orange locks, he fisted Zenon’s
hair.
“Let yourself loose,
Zenon. Go all out. I’ll be right by your side.”
Zenon grinned a fierce
smile, more a baring of teeth, and the two moved toward the encampment. With little effort, they mowed their way
through their opponents; the sound of gunfire and the roaring flames of a sword
intermingling with screams and enraged battle cries. It wasn’t until they reached the center of the encampment that
one of the tents exploded out into the transformation of a huge lizard-like
creature, feet crushing the tents around them and tongue flicking at the air
around it.
Homura smiled, his
sword flaring in a burst of fire.
He rushed the demon,
meeting it halfway as the two of them clashed.
More blood and gore rained down on him as he cut through the leathery
hide of the creature. A scream of pain
and rage deafened him and he stabbed upward, aiming for its throat and felt the
satisfying thunk of hitting bone.
He shoved harder, the smell of burned flesh rancid in his nose as the
flames of his sword cauterized the flesh he was carving up, and felt the blade
sever through the vertebrate of the youkai’s neck, defeating the demon. As it fell, he became aware that a second
lizard demon had appeared and was battling with Zenon. He turned in time to witness his soldier get
swiped by the demon’s tail, throwing him several yards into the trees.
Snarling, Homura
prepared to unleash the dragon from his sword when in a streak of orange and
sea-blue, Zenon shot by him back towards the huge creature, a long-bladed knife
in his hand. The other god scrambled up
the back of the giant youkai and plunged the knife into its neck, severing the
spinal cord and spraying dark blood all over himself and the surrounding trees.
The dying monster
thrashed, screaming loud enough for Homura’s ears to ring, and fell to the
ground, still writhing in its death throes.
Zenon held on to the hilt of his knife, his body bucking and tossing
about in all directions, but he managed to maintain his grip until, with one
final, plaintive mew, the youkai went still.
Zenon maneuvered his
knees under him and knelt on the dead creature’s neck, and with a vicious
heave, pulled his weapon free. Homura
stayed standing where he was, his eyes still glowing – burning with an
anticipatory hunger, and he watched as his soldier and lover got to his
feet. Even in the low light of the
night Homura could see that Zenon was literally covered in blood and gore.
Homura watched as Zenon
climbed down from the corpse. The
soldier slowly turned his head to look at his prince, taking a step towards
him. Another step and the war prince
dispersed his sword, his heart racing and his breathing changing rhythm. Zenon’s stride was slow and cat like –
stalking him. Homura shifted and
planted his feet, preparing himself.
The urge to kill was satisfied but another urge – just as strong – took
its place.
The closer Zenon got to
him, the faster the soldier strode until, about 10 yards away, Zenon phased
out. Homura had time to blink,
surprised, when Zenon phased back in again, right in front of him, bowling him
over and tackling the two of them to the ground. Homura grunted, bucking up and fisting both his hands into Zenon’s
ginger locks, forcing the soldier’s head up into position for a kiss, savage
and raw. Zenon was just as brutal, his
hands ripping at Homura’s clothes and carelessly tossing the chain spanning
Homura’s wrists over their heads.
The coppery, metallic
smell of blood was almost all Homura could smell and here and there the pained
sounds of dying youkai could still be heard, if he were listening for such
things. But he wasn’t. All he was hearing was the harsh breathing
and desperate gasps coming from his lover.
He wrestled Zenon’s jacket off his shoulders and over his arms, flipping
the two of them and onto the discarded jacket as Zenon was distracted.
Zenon resisted the
change in position. A savage grimace
twisted his face and a fist grabbed Homura’s hair jerking his head aside and
throwing the war prince off balance just enough to enable Zenon to buck him
off. Homura fought back and the two
rolled and thrashed in the blood soaked dirt.
A hard fist connected with the war prince’s jaw, snapping his head to
the side, and his own fist swung in a backhanded punch to connect to Zenon’s
cheekbone. Homura paused, briefly
worrying he may have injured his lover, but the soldier only shook it off and
jerked the prince forward for another kiss.
Hands yanked at
waistbands and tore at shirts, the two gods trying to strip each other of what
they were wearing, needing to feel and touch and devour. In a matter of a few scant minutes, both
gods were naked and covered in dirt and blood and sweat, their skin coated in
slippery grit.
Zenon’s hands slipped
on Homura’s shoulders, so he again grabbed hold of the shaggy black hair at his
disposal, and forced Homura face first into the ground. The war prince sputtered, his mouth full of
dirt, and he felt the hard length of Zenon’s cock press into the crease of his
ass. He tried to lift his head up to
gasp in some air but Zenon kept his face down, his cock seeking entrance. Growling, Homura jabbed an elbow into
Zenon’s ribs, hard and solid, and the other god jerked back, allowing Homura to
crawl out from under him.
“Damn it, Homura!”
Zenon rasped, a hand covering the injured area as he backed off,
self-preservation momentarily breaking through his haze of lust.
Whirling on his
soldier, Homura shoved him down, pinning his back to the ground and straddling
him, one hand closed over his throat.
He eased up on his grip, allowing Zenon some air, and the soldier rose
up in another attempt to dislodge his commander, but Homura simply slammed him
back down. The war prince swiped his
forearm across his face in an attempt to wipe away some of the dirt but only
accomplished smearing it in a muddy streak.
Mismatched eyes scanned the prone god before a slow, lazy smile spread
across the war god’s face. One hand
pressed against Zenon’s chest, holding him down, as Homura rose to his
knees. Reaching back with his other
hand, he gripped his soldier’s cock, lifting it up and guiding himself down on
top of it. He winced slightly as his
unprepared passage was stretched by the invading flesh.
Once he was fully
seated, Homura paused, adjusting.
Zenon’s hands ran restlessly over his prince’s thighs and hips, also
adjusting to the heat and constriction of being forced into the other god. “Fuck, Homura. Don’t…” Zenon’s objection dwindled away as the war god lifted up
and settled back down, grimacing at the tug and pull on the skin of his
unlubricated ass. “Don’t want to hurt
you, Homura,” Zenon whispered, almost contrary to his previous actions. And he
was unable to stop himself from arching into the movement.
Homura paused again and
looked down at Zenon, sprawled under him.
The slow smile he gave him had a savage touch to it, his eyes bright in
anticipation. “You can’t hurt me,
Zenon. Not really,” he drawled. Reaching down, Homura grabbed a fist full of
orange hair and dragged the soldier into a half sitting position. Staring him hard in the eyes, he lifted his
chain and deliberately dropped it behind the other god, getting it out of the
way. “Kiss me,” he ordered, pulling
Zenon’s head to his own and devouring the soldier’s mouth without waiting for a
reply. As Zenon responded, Homura again
began to move.
Homura’s cock was
trapped between them, smearing both their bellies with his leaking
essence. It could almost be surprising
how quickly the urge to kill had been replaced with the urge to fuck. Watching Zenon massacre the enemy, then come
at him drenched in blood made Homura’s own blood burn with a need to feel his
soldier driving into him with the same uncontrolled ferocity. He sunk both hands into unruly, spiky hair
as he kissed Zenon, then attempted to hold him closer by wrapping one arm
around the other’s shoulders and burying his face into Zenon’s neck, pouring
bites and sucking kisses all over the side of Zenon’s neck and the top of his
shoulder.
Zenon had stopped
objecting and grabbed Homura’s hips, increasing their pace by moving the
heretic’s hips faster and harder in his lap.
The sound of the war prince’s moans and heavy breathing drowned out all
other sound and Zenon was unaware his own voice was making sounds that were driving
the war god just as mad. Homura jerked
his head up and managed to grasp Zenon’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit
down, hard enough to break the skin.
Zenon gave a shocked grunt and tried to jerk back until he felt his lip
pulled and held tight between Homura’s teeth.
He drew up short, but Homura was already letting up on his bite and was
now suckling on his lip, licking and sucking on his blood, savoring its rich
flavor.
Zenon fisted a handful
of Homura’s hair and jerked his head back, tearing his mouth away and
shuddering at the surge of adrenaline and lust the pain caused. The trail of new blood leaking from his lip
was lost amongst all the other blood smeared over him. He swore Homura was going to be the death of
him.
Needing more, Homura leaned
back, one hand grasping Zenon’s shoulder, and he undulated his hips, bringing
Zenon’s cock even deeper into him. His
head rolling back, he groaned, loud and long as his fingers dug painfully into
the muscle of his soldier. His other
hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed, holding off his orgasm as long as he
could as Zenon snarled before him.
Homura didn’t feel the
movement; he only felt the cold earth under his back to tell him that Zenon had
rolled them so that Homura now lay under him.
His legs were hoisted over the soldier’s shoulders and Homura curled up
into himself, Zenon driving wildly into him.
Homura could feel his orgasm continue to build, gaining strength, and he
didn’t know how long he could hold it off.
He didn’t know how long he wanted to hold it off.
Zenon jerked forward,
slapping his hand into the blood soaked earth under his prince and his
uncovered eye glaring possessively at the god under him. Homura grinned a challenge back at him,
having no breath to voice it. Growling,
Zenon snapped his head down and sank his teeth into Homura’s neck, where it
joined to his shoulder. Homura bucked
up and shouted. Zenon would have backed
off but for the fact that Homura threw up a hand and grabbed that back of his
head, preventing him from moving away from the spot. So he dug his teeth in deeper and tasted a spurt of the war god’s
own blood on his tongue.
Homura jerked, a pained
cry bursting from his lips. His body
locked up and a burst of energy – an eerily familiar energy – burst out from
the war god, just as a burst of warm cum shot out to coat both their
bodies. Zenon rode out his lover’s
orgasm, waiting until Homura began to settle before he let his own peak wash
over him.
When he was finally
able to peel himself away from where he was plastered on top of his prince, he
looked around. The grass and shrubs
that had survived the battle were flattened out in a seventy-five foot radius,
radiating out from them. The bodies of
the youkai were gone.
Yes, one day, Homura
was going to be the death of him.
-end
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