Afterlife - White Noise

[koorii]

Fandom: Detective Conan/Magic Kaito
Pairing: Shinichi/Kaito
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Tentacles. Graphic Sex. Mentions of violence. Mentions of Past Major Character Death.
Genre: Supernatural/Romance(?)
Words: 10982

A/N: Alright, so, I wrote this back in, like, December or so as a present for miss_sera, but never posted it for various reasons. One being I didn't have a title for it, and another being I wasn't sure where to put it in my Afterlife series. It goes either during, or after Eternity, though, which I haven't written.

So, yeah, takes place sometime after Lullaby. Kaito's a little more lucid, but maybe not a whole lot more sane. He's on the road to recovery though, and Shinichi... well, you'll see. Some things might not make too much sense, since it references un-written things, sorry. I probably should have proofread this once more, but I didn't... Sorry again.



The night had been...Well, Shinichi would have called it productive, but Kid would call it horrifying. Seeing so many people dead unsettled him no matter how many times he was exposed to death, but seeing the way Shinichi was about it...That unnerved him far more. Kid was pretty sure it was some point between seeing a human body rupture, blood squirting from its orifices in thin sanguine ropes and out its pores like a fine mist, and seeing Shinichi casually snap another man's neck with a flick of his wrist that it hit him that Shinichi was terrifying.

Well, no, that wasn't true: He could remember disjointed bits and pieces when Shinichi had killed Snake, back before he even had a body and when Kid was in pieces with flies buzzing around his brain case, that he'd been scared then too. He'd tried to get rid of Shinichi, hadn't he? And, now, looking back on what life was like without him, he couldn't understand what he'd been thinking back then. Kid was pretty sure that if he'd succeeded he would've regretted it immediately. Life just wasn't the same when you were haunted, then you weren't.

He didn't know where Shinichi was right now, the black of the night tended to swallow him whole, or maybe he just traveled in some peculiar way Kid's mortal mind couldn't fathom, and his mortal body could never tolerate. All the same, he was getting that itchy feeling that came with not knowing where the Shinigami was exactly. It was a sort of want to check in with him, though he was never sure if it was because he wanted to check in with him, or check on Shinichi. He figured it was a little of both in the end, after all they were connected on a deep level: Beyond mental, emotional, or even physical connections. It was like a bit of his soul had been sucked up by Shinichi, and he couldn't get it back, wasn't sure he even wanted to.

Glancing below himself, Kid watched the flat of rooftops flash by as his glide slowly brought him lower and lower toward the cement. The air felt moist even as he passed at such speeds. It was warm, almost uncomfortably hot to be honest, and sweat dampened his neck, and beneath his arms. At least when he was flying the humid air felt like some sibling to a breeze. Alas, he was getting too low for safety, and if he wasn't careful he would dip below the line of the buildings, and have to land on the ground or suffer a midair impact against the unyielding side of an apartment complex. While Kid was very proud of his flying skills, he was sure he could twist through the streets if he had to, the prospect of mere possibility of a collision made him flinch ever so slightly.

Kid judged the distance to the next roof, and brought his hand down to his waist to clasp connector at the center of his belt. His thumb brushed lightly over the button, waiting and steady, and as the roof passed beneath him he swung his legs forward sharply, an action that forced his body into a more upright position and allowed the drag of air hitting the wings of his glider slowed his forward momentum spectacularly. By the time it was halfway across his target roof he was able to take a few running steps on it as he retracted his glider.

Despite the hour, not quite sunrise but getting close, the air was still as muggy as it had been before the sun had gone down the day before. The cement smelled damp and hot, a peculiar city scent that he barely noticed from all his years living here. From below him the sounds of a television floated upward, someone, apparently, staying up late, and with the window cracked to tempt the nonexistent breeze. From another direction someone's air conditioning unit rattled and wheezed as it attempted to keep the heat at bay. In the distance he could hear the wail of sirens. That sound had seemed almost ceaseless lately, and Kid couldn't help but wonder if it were because of him.

A skittish feeling sent him darting toward the edge of the roof, and, with a quick jump, he was able to clear the distance and land on the railing of a small balcony attached to the side of the building across from him. It was a bit higher than the roof he'd been on, but he landed with no more than a faint sway to assure his balance, then leapt neatly upward to catch onto the bottom of the balcony above him, and pulled himself upward. For a moment, Kid paused, crouched on the balcony, with his head tilted as he listened to the muted city sounds.

Every breath he took felt heavy in his lungs, and he wasn't sure if it was the humidity that caused the sensation, or the way his stomach was churning with ill ease. He swallowed a few times, hard, as the world gave a tipsy lurch, then placed a gloved hand over his lips. It really wouldn't do for Kaitou Kid to sick up all over some poor families drying laundry. Kid closed his eyes, and continued to breath slowly through his nose as images of dead bodies, draped over pristine floors, danced behind his eyelids. Staring eyes, that seemed to track him accusingly as he scuttled, queasily, after the Shinigami swam up from the depths of recent memory. Should he have tried to stop him? Would it matter?

Kid gave his head a hard shake to dispel the lingering images, and stood once more to jump lightly across to the neighboring balcony. The owner of the apartment had left their shutters open, the window cracked just a hair, so he balanced, moving quietly across his perch.

Across the narrow road from the apartment complex stood the dark skeleton of one of the inevitable construction projects in the city, and, with a shiver of certainty, Kid could feel himself being drawn toward it. He wasn't sure why, maybe it was merely the vague atmosphere of creeping darkness the shadows exuded there, or maybe he was merely being fanciful. A part of it was, surely, the combined edginess being a criminal warranted, as much as it was a certainty that, if he went there, Shinichi would make his presence known.

He could feel sweat on his upper lip, and Kid turned his head into his shoulder to wipe it away. Even if it was unlikely, he didn't want to leave even a molecule of sweat behind on the off chance someone saw him up here and reported it. Kid slid his hand back, and slipped his card gun free from its hidden place, his other hand dipped into another secret pocket and pulled out an attachment he'd made for the gun.

While he screwed the attachment on, Kid judged the skeleton of the building across from him: He could see a cross joint of a few beams that made for a perfect target. Another hand dipped into his tricks to pull out a small, collapsible grappling hook already attached to a long coil of thin, strong cord. He extended the prongs, then slotted it into the addition to his gun. A flip of a switch, barely noticeable on the card gun's side, locked the cards, and a pull of the trigger sent the hook hurtling across the gap with precision accuracy. A quiet clang announced it hooking into place, and Kid took a moment to tug at the cord to make sure it was a solid hold.

With a faint nod to himself, Kid spirited his card gun away again, then let himself drop off the balcony. The sound of his cape, a rush of fabric behind him, seemed much too loud in his ears. Kid stuck his legs out, braced for the impact, but when he hit the upright, it was still jarring enough to make him clench his teeth ever so slightly. Quickly he swarmed up the beam using the cord, then reached up as he came to the top and caught hold of the bottom edge of the I-beam above and to his right. Kid let go of the rope, dangling from his single handed grip, and swung his other hand up to grab the bottom ledge of the beam that had been directly above his head. He kicked off the upright he'd scaled, and, muscles straining, hauled himself upward.

Twisting around, he slid to sit on one, then pulled bright yellow handkerchief from one of his pockets to wipe at the sweat on his face. While he'd had more strenuous adventures, he couldn't deny that it was hot, and, damn it, that was making things worse. His Kid ensemble wasn't exactly made to breath as heavy as it was on storage.

Kid grunted slightly, and shoved the handkerchief up a sleeve before he reached over to retrieve the grappling hook, and reel the cord up. Both items disappeared just as quickly.

A cool twist of breeze touched his cheek, but Kid wasn't fooled into thinking it had anything to do with the oppressive humidity lifting a little. He turned his head, peering passed one of his glider knobs, and into the thick shadows of the construction zone. With a soundless exhale that wasn't quite a sigh, Kid stood. For a moment, he lingered, adjusting his cuffs and tugging slightly at the suffocating tightness of his collar.

He was stalling, and he knew it, but that was alright, it gave him time to get his Poker Face in place, even if it was slightly foolish. Shinichi had seen him at his absolute worst, there wasn't much more to see, but Kid, but Kaito, didn't want him to see the fear and nausea the night had inspired in him. How cold was that? To blatantly show such emotions about Shinichi...

He walked along the broad top of the steel beam as if he were strolling along a sidewalk: Hands tucked into his pockets and a detached air of aloofness settled about his shoulders. Ahead of him he could hear a faint rustle, and, when his beam came to an end he found himself staring down into a yawning shadowy opening at the bottom of which, about a floor down, he could see that it had been floored with rough wooden platforms surrounded by tarps and plastic. Planks of wood were trapping down the ends of one sheet of plastic, while a few others simply hung free.

No one was there, and only the sounds of plastic rustling in the oh-so-faint whisper of a breeze broke the all encompassing industrial silence of the construction site. Confused, Kid crouched down, one hand bracing against the steel beneath him. He craned his neck, looking for the Shinigami with concerned violet eyes. Had he been wrong? Had Shinichi merely left him to make his own way home?

A small shiver worked its way up his spine. While he'd been upset he hadn't wanted Shinichi to go away. Kid bit his lip, forcing himself not to call out the Shinigami's name. It was hard, sometimes, reminding himself that Shinichi just wasn't there all the time. Maybe it was slightly selfish of him, but he missed that closeness, and couldn't help but be annoyed that he had to share with the rest of the world. For so long Shinichi had been his little secret.

About to turn away, something caught his attention, just the faintest change in sound. It sounded like fabric, and Kid tilted his head back to watch as a dark figure descended, never dropped, never fell, but descended through the gap between the beams above him. He wasn't noticed, or, at least no notice was given to him as his twisted, black dressed mirror image slid soundlessly passed his level.

Kid found himself pressing back into the darkness of a nearby upright, his hand braced against the warm steel. A faint tap echoed up to his ears, and, from where he was, he could see the Shinigami settle onto the platform, his legs bent slightly from his touchdown. The dark liquid shadow folds of his cape spread out on the paler color of the wood like silk, before smoothing as Shinichi straightened.

There he was, just the person, creature, he had been waiting for, wanting, to see... and now here he was, cowering in a dark corner like a child afraid an Oni would sneak out and devour him. It was silly, it was foolish, yet, even as he watched the Black Kid's head shift, obviously looking for him, Kid found himself slithering silently down the beams with the nimble ease he always displayed on his heists.

As he made his way, he couldn't help but think that seeing him here, among the hollowed out bones of an unfinished building reminded him of another night. This time, though, he was the one perched higher up and observing Shinichi. That night had been full of a sense of relief, of finally understanding why he'd felt like there was an empty space where his lungs belonged. Tonight he was filled with a sense of red and black. Like blood splashing on walls, and dark shoes casually walking on as bodies thumped lifelessly to the floor.

He paused, for a moment, to shoot a glance toward the partially obscured figure, waiting, down in the darkness. Kid couldn't help but think how well this setting fit him. The thickness of the shadows painted the perfect foil for Shinichi's own darkness, and the skeleton ridges of the unfinished building brought to mind metaphors for death and endings even when it was, technically, a beginning.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, even as they stuck there like cobwebs, he resumed his descent. When he reached the lower level he found that the sheets of hanging plastic were far more numerous than he'd given credit from his perch, and appeared to be protecting various construction elements that had been hauled up to this floor and left. It was nearly impossible to keep silent as he crept through the jungle of filmy plastic: The soles of his shoes clacked softly, a hollow sound, on the makeshift floor, no matter how carefully he stepped.

Kid reached out, brushing aside another sheet of plastic with the back of his arm, and ducked through it. It was even more stuffy here, with the heat trapped by the maze of plastic sheets. Ahead of him he could see that dark figure, so chilling and indistinct. Just that faint glimpse, lacking of all detail, made him want to run. The real question was, did he want to run away, or toward Shinichi? He could never tell which was the better decision. For a moment he stood, silent and wary, as he simply watched Shinichi.

Should he approach, or was it really better if he just left? After all, it wasn't that important anyway. He'd just wanted to make sure Shinichi was still around, some weird need in the pit of his stomach, and now he'd seen him. Bed wasn't really sounding too bad, and, for once, Kid had no qualms in backing down, had always had a pretty good instinct for self-preservation even if he had a tendency to fly in the face of it. There were just some things that you couldn't overcome: Like scaled, water dwelling, bug-eyed, things. Given, he wasn't that scared of Shinichi, but, right now... Kid just didn't know how the Shinigami would react to his fear.

He turned away with every intention of slipping off just as quietly as he had come, only to freeze when a calm voice called, “Kaito.”

Right then, he decided, he really didn't want to face Shinichi. Kid lunged, reaching for a nearby beam with every intention of slithering right up it and making a get away. He knew well enough that Shinichi could find him wherever he went with absurd ease, but that didn't stop him from trying. However, his escape attempt was arrested midair when something wrapped around his waist like a parody of his glider belt. Whatever it was, held him suspended midair with inordinate ease, and, to be honest, he was almost afraid to look.

The oddest thing, Kid thought with a detached air, was that he didn't feel any extra warmth, which he should have if Shinichi had grabbed him. He hadn't heard Shinichi move, but that wasn't all that unusual: The Shinigami would easily make himself incorporeal when he wanted to. Coolness seeped through his suit jacket and shirt as another thick band wrapped itself around his upper chest. Kid swallowed, and slowly tilted his head to look down. A frown made his brows furrow.

“Whoa!” the yelp escaped him without permission, and he gave a hard twist as he reached for one of the steel girders to try and pull himself free. What the hell had hold of him?! Ever since he'd had all illusions about the supernatural ripped away from him, he'd been a little paranoid about running into things, but... What was this? A ghost octopus? Because that certainly looked like a a couple of tentacles wrapped around his torso!

Mildly freaked out now, on top of everything else, he made another grab for the girder, only to yelp at the sight of another of the tentacles winding slowly along the length of his outstretched arm. It contracted, tightening like a boa constrictor around his arm where it bunched up the white material of his sleeve. The narrow tip of the tentacle wound around his wrist, and gently dragged his arm back until the elbow bent automatically.

Another slithered over his shoulder, brushed cold, and slightly wet, against his cheek as it moved to wrap around the same wrist. He had no doubt it was to keep his hand restrained. Kid gave an assessing tug of his other hand to confirm it had been just as equally immobilized. He could feel other, similar bands winding slowly around his legs from ankle to thigh as they bunched and pressed the material of his pants. Everywhere they touched a cool sensation was seeping through the fabric of his clothes, and he had a feeling it wasn't just because the tentacles were cold, if the slightly slimy, damp feeling on his stomach was anything to go by.

Shinichi wasn't that far away, and if his experiences with real phantoms was anything to go by, Kid could guess that these things were just as impervious to his mortal tricks as Shinichi was. However, when one had a Shinigami on their side, one could utilize it. He grimaced faintly, because that meant dealing with said Shinigami, and he wasn't sure he was up to it tonight. All the same, he went to call Shinichi's name only to give a sound of alarm as he was pulled backwards through the air.

Backwards, he realized, toward Shinichi.

Kid twisted his upper half around, straining to see behind him, and almost gave a hysterical snicker at the sight of the tentacles: They weren't going around or over the plastic, they'd just passed right through them. He honestly wasn't sure how this was going to work, because he was quite solid, thank you.

Beyond that, he could see them fading toward the dark figure he knew to be his dear Shinigami. Oh, hell, what had he done now? If he'd summoned some sort of creepy pet Kid was pretty sure he was going to lose that tenuous hold he had on his sanity again. No, Shinichi, we don't need a pet phantom tentacle monster. Between the faint giddiness and light headed feeling that came with an on rush of 'Oh Shit' and the spike of adrenaline that had just been driven into the core of his brain, Kid barely managed to grab the brim of his top hat as he was pulled through the plastic. It had, quite nearly, gotten dislodged as the stuff rustled over his back and head.

He watched it fall back into place with a sense of resigned blasé. He might as well get used to the fact that, no matter what he did, Shinichi was well and truly capable of squashing whatever bit of normal had ever existed in his life. His lover was a ghost, a death god, and, now, he glanced back again to confirm what his brain was already catching up on, his lover had manifested tentacles. Instead of questioning this, quite sure that it would only lead him to picking at the cracks of his mind while he gibbered incoherently, Kid took a chance to inspect his, eh, bonds for lack of better terms.

The ambient city glow that leaked through the beams and plastic wasn't even strictly necessary because the things glowed, although not brightly. They, in fact, emitted the same dark purple luminance that seemed to manifest with the Shinigami's powers. The tentacles themselves were black, no surprise there considering how fond of the color Shinichi seemed to be (Was that personal taste, or was it just because he was that color? As if that made any sense at all...), but they weren't solid. In fact, even the ones that were clutching him had a sort of translucency that seemed to increase toward the middle of them while darkening into more solid black toward their outer edges. He could even see right through them to the white of his clothing underneath.

So, not just tentacles, they really were ghost tentacles. Creepy.

Kid found himself lifted up higher, and a glance down showed he was being moved over Shinichi since the Shinigami didn't seem interested in turning around. It also gave him a full view of the way the tentacles seemed to spread out from beneath the Black Kid cape the Shinigami was wearing. It was like seeing a nest of snakes peeking out from under a rock: Like slowly slithering black tails, or maybe the waving black fronds of some strange plant. Some of them were even just passing through the material with no mind to its solidness. In fact, several of the ones that were holding him had passed right through Shinichi himself, as they brought Kid down to gently deposit him on his feet a few steps away from the Shinigami.

Shinichi had gotten rid of the hat and monocle at some earlier point, he couldn't help but notice, and he found himself speared by that pair of luminous blue eyes. As always they glowed in a way no animals, no natural creatures, eyes could ever hope to achieve. It was an internal glow, not the glow of light reflecting off of specialized retinas. The look that Shinichi was giving him, though, gave him pause. Kid couldn't remember ever having seen him look at him quite like that: There was an eager gleam in the Shinigami's eyes, and a grin on his face that was as sharp as Kid's normal mocking grin though so, so much more dangerous. It was a look of hunger, though he had no idea for what.

He leaned toward Kid then, and asked, “Well?”

Kid opened his mouth, then snapped it closed, tried again, and found himself at a lack for words once more. He wasn't exactly sure what the Shinigami was asking about. The tentacles? What was he supposed to say about those? As if to taunt him one of the smooth, black things flickered just over Shinichi's shoulder. Kid followed it with his eyes until it dipped back down out of his range of vision, then let his gaze dart back to Shinichi's waiting, luminescent stare. “Uh...” he attempted, then just gave it up as a lost cause. “Well what?”

The Shinigami's glowing eyes narrowed, and Kid could swear that he could feel that scrutinizing gaze sweeping over him. Then again, that just might be because he was finally starting to cool off a bit. Between the cool, light weight of the tentacles, whatever they were, er, secreting on him, and the natural cold feeling of Shinichi's powers in the air the hot humidity of the world beyond seemed like nothing more than a distant thought.

He watched, almost fascinated, as the last vestiges of Shinichi's previous expression melted off his face to be replaced by his more commonplace look of seriousness. “You're scared. Of me,” the Shinigami said flatly. Kid could feel the tentacles tighten their hold on him as he tensed, as well as the way his stomach muscles jumped as the cold, damp fabric of his shirt and jacket were forced into flat against his still warm and sweaty skin.

Kid flinched, though Shinichi's voice held no accusation, just certainty. What was he supposed to say to that? 'Yes, you terrify me, the things I saw you do tonight disgusted me.'? “I..well...”

“Don't lie,” Shinichi cut in abruptly, and Kid shut his mouth so fast his teeth clacked together. He wasn't even sure he had been going to lie. “I can tell.” The Shinigami reached out, and ghosted the tip of his finger down the bridge of Kid's nose. He could hear his fingernail scrape ever so slightly against the nose piece of his monocle. The tentacles tightened a little further as they slid and wound around him, drawing him in closer as if they were some sort of inexorable tether. “But that's fine.”

“What?” Kid croaked in confusion.

The slow smile that spread across Shinichi's face was a familiar one that always seemed to be made of predatory edges and a hint of teeth. Shinichi flattened his palm against Kid's cheek, then gave it a slight pat. To anyone else it may have seemed condescending, but Kid knew it wasn't. Shinichi's other hand came up, and he caught Kid's face between them. “It's normal,” Shinichi purred. “All mortals fear Death, even if they don't realize it. It's an instinct...” His hands ran down Kid's neck, and paused, half on the fabric of his shirt collar and half on his skin. The sensation, so warm compared to the tentacles wrapped around him, was an odd one. “Like facing down a predator that you know can kill you at any moment.”

Kid gave a full body shiver, unable to suppress it. There was a certainty, as smug, lazy, and knowing as a giant cat in Shinichi's eyes. “I've faced Death down countless times,” he replied after a moments pause to make sure his voice was under control. And, when Shinichi's smile widened a fraction more, he added, “And I don't mean you.”

Shinichi took few small steps closer, so close that Kaito could feel his body heat rather than the cool aura of the power he was expending, and leaned in close to nuzzle against the back edge of his jaw bone, just below his ear. “It's only natural, but you have nothing to fear. Not anymore. I won't let anything take you away.”

“Shinichi, I'm mortal.”

“I'm Death,” Shinichi whispered into his ear as if that explained everything. His breath was hot against the cartilage of Kid's ear. It made him shiver again, and he felt the tentacles– Had Shinichi forgotten about them? –ripple around him.

One, Kid notice, slid a little further up his inner thigh, and he couldn't help the automatic reaction to talk back in the face the of the squirming knot, a combination of fear and nerves, in his stomach, “I know it's important to spice up things, to keep our relationship from going stale, but I don't think this is what I had in mind.”

Shinichi pulled back and stared at him for a single beat, frozen in confusion, then he gave a slow, owlish, blink as understanding dawned. Kid held back a groan. Open mouth, insert foot. Why could he never remember that this was an impressionable, young Shinigami with all the morals and inhibitions that involved? No one had even given him lessons on what to do when your Shinigami sprouted tentacles and decided to get frisky. One of the tentacles detached itself from its grip on his arm and twined up to drape around his neck. It lay cold and wet against his skin, the end of it curling around, purposefully, to rest beneath Kid's chin.

“I hadn't thought of it, but now that you mention....”

Oh, hell. “Shinichi...” Kid whined, putting a bit of a plaintive note in his voice.

“Shhh,” Shinichi crooned, and brushed the backs of his knuckles against the upper curve of Kid's cheek even as the tentacle wound further to bring the delicate tip to rest just below his ear lobe. “Not even a little curious?”

Kid swallowed, and could feel the way his throat pressed a little more against the thing wrapped, ever so lightly, around his neck. Instead of answering that question, because he was pretty sure he was blushing (Just a little) at the moment from the very implications of the conversation, he attempted distraction: “You've never had these before.”

The Shinigami made an amused noise, and absently pulled one of Kid's gloves off before tucking it into one of his pockets. “I never wanted to before, but you were trying to leave.” Now there was a bit of accusation in his tone, and Kid grimaced a bit, watching with an odd sort of fascination as Shinichi slowly pulled his other glove off. He still had his own on, as black as Kid's white.

“I was worried abou–” Kid's voice broke off in a slightly indignant crack, because one of those damn things had chosen that moment to slither up his pant leg, twining around his calf to the back of his knee. “Shinichi, your tentacle is... er, sliming my leg.”

“Yes,” the Shinigami agreed in that tone of voice that suggested he didn't have a clue as to why this was relevant. His hands, meanwhile, slid up to rest on the knobs of Kid's glider cape. Kid didn't turn his head to look, because he'd found himself too focused on the sloe-eyed look Shinichi had leveled at him. He would have gone so far as to call the smile the Shinigami wore as invitingly coy. As though from a distance Kid heard the twin snaps of his cape coming loose, and then the heavy rustle of the fabric sliding free. From the corner of his eye he could see a tentacle moving, the white fabric draped over the black length, before it was deposited in an out of the way pile.

He wasn't feeling very Kid-like anymore. His charm had frayed away to bits of twine, and his wits had scattered like so much offal. He licked his lips slowly, and tasted salt left behind by his sweat earlier. “Shinichi...”

The tentacle around Kid's neck wound higher, curling around his throat in loose loops and leaving that slime smeared across his skin. He could feel that self same tentacle were it was wound nearly the entire way around his body, from his neck, under one arm and around his torso to his hips were it rested lightly across his ass before it retreated back toward its owner and disappeared beneath the dark folds of Shinichi's cape. The pressure against the soft underside of his jaw forced him to tilt his head back. Kid could feel the tentacle sliding further around his head, feel it as it passed just beneath his ear, feel it against his scalp and in his hair.

He spared a moment to hope that whatever that goo was, it wasn't going to be detrimental to his hair. That could prove annoying. A moment later he felt his top hat lift away, and glanced up to watch as it was held in the air above him in the coil of the tentacle. The tentacle seemed to lose it's solidness around him, and slipped through him. A cold shiver raked up his spine from the sensation: Like having an ice cube run over him in all the places it touched. Kid could see his hat being deposited on an abandoned pile of two-by-fours.

Shinichi's lips pressed against the corner of Kid's mouth, his eyes were closed, though Kid could still see a faint blue glow from beneath his eyelids. His breath was warm as it fanned across the plane of his cheek, and it reminded Kid of the first time he'd see Shinichi like this: How he'd been so enthralled by how warm and human he was. He thought he might have forgotten, just a little bit, that there was nothing human at all about him. Kid sighed, and let his eyes drift half closed as the tangling limbs pulled him a little closer.

“Don't forget, Kaito,” Shinichi enunciated slowly against his mouth. “Death loves you.”

He inhaled sharply as he was assaulted by a flow of blue and gold tinged memories that involved cold touches dragging slowly across his skin, and a mouth that inspired such heat in him while it still froze him. Never before had he imagined that something cold could burn him so much that all he could do was surrender to the conflagration. And, that, was only from the disjointed hazy memories his shattered mind had managed to stick to his the insides of his skull.

“I don't remember,” he whispered. Then, like a mantra the Shinigami's name left his lips, “Shinichi, Shinichi, Shinichi...”

The cold touch of another tentacle curling against his cheek made him lean away from it. It wound around his monocle, and pulled it away. Kaito blinked at it, eyes focused on the dangling charm before sliding back up. He could see some of the weird slime smearing on the lens. Shinichi's fingers opened his suit coat, and Kaito could feel the Shinigami's fingers bunching the fabric of his dark blue shirt in the fabric near his waist before he tugged it free of Kaito's pants. “I left you a reminder, though, didn't I?”

“Yes,” Kaito murmured. He remembered waking up to blood, something that had been common back then. Kaito still had the scars to prove it.

He couldn't stop the gasp that tore from him at the slick, cold feeling of tentacles slithering under the hem of his shirt and winding around his torso from his waist to his shoulders. There was no denying that the cold touch was pleasant, as it kept him cool, and the slow drying and evaporating of the strange slime wasn't nearly as bothersome as he'd expected. It seemed to merely fade away over time if left alone. It was weird, that was true, but at the same time... he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Maybe it was just the fact that he was thoroughly desensitized to strangeness now, or perhaps it was a side effect of going utterly insane: You just didn't come back the same. Or, maybe, it was something as stupid and humanly emotional as the fact that he was worried. Before Shinichi had needed him, because no one else knew he was there, but now the Shinigami didn't need him. Kaito was no longer strictly necessary, and, for all he knew, he could choose to cut whatever bound them at his whims.

He wasn't sure how he'd react to that, not after the empty less-than-whole feeling he'd experienced when the medication had deadened his ability to perceive his invisible companion. Kaito didn't want his brains to be scrambled again. He squeezed his eyes closed on the thought, feeling a tremor of panic through him, until a soothing hand slid along the nape of his neck to run through his hair.

Kaito opened his eyes to find Shinichi had shifted back a bit, a look of concern in those normally intimidating, luminous eyes. He'd been released completely, all of the ghostly appendages retreating behind the Shinigami where they continued to drift, like they were buoyed in water, but for the one that was holding his monocle aloft.

For a moment he thought Shinichi might just be planning to leave, then the Shinigami wrinkled his nose and asked, “Was I being too forward?”

He couldn't help but laugh, though Kaito hadn't a clue if it was the words or the look on Shinichi's face that said he found the thought absolutely stupid. Kaito grinned like a loon and stepped toward the Shinigami again, to bring his hands to rest on trim black waist of Shinichi's suit jacket. “You're terrible at being human.”

Shinichi blinked at him, that same slow, owlish motion that seemed to indicate his confusion. “I'm not human.”

“I know,” Kaito muttered, voice unaccountably small as he buried his face against Shinichi's dark clothed shoulder. “Don't leave.”

“What are you talking about, silly mortal?”

Kaito merely shrugged, and turned his head until his cheek was resting on the Shinigami's shoulders. He knew that Shinichi wouldn't be able to understand the sentiment. He was starting to get the picture: Whatever Shinichi may have been before he died, he would never be that person again. “It's nothing.”

Shinichi's hand found his hair again, and began to card through the messy locks. It reminded him so much of the phantom touches he'd felt on the edge of sleep, that he found his eyes drifting closed, and his body relaxing into Shinichi's grip. “I told you, you can't lie to me.”

He muffled a laugh. That hadn't been a very good lie anyway. “You don't need me anymore.”

Under his hands, Kaito could feel Shinichi go still. The Shinigami didn't tense, exactly, but that stillness said far more than any tensing ever could. The temperature dropped a few more degrees, and the restless, constant movement of the tentacles Shinichi still hadn't banished picked up its pace. Kaito couldn't help but think it was like someone had overturned a nest of adders. The hiss of air between Shinichi's teeth only added to that feeling. “Who do I have to kill?”

Kaito blinked. He could feel his brain screeching to a halt at that one. Around them the world seemed to shift slightly, blurring at the edges, and making jumps like an old tape as Shinichi's anger made his powers flutter out of control. It scared him a little, but he didn't let that fear rule him: He never had in the past, and he refused to start now. “What do you mean?”

When Shinichi looked at him, it was with a fierce, wild, and angry look in his glowing eyes that made Kaito tense up. “You're mine,” he hissed. His arm tightened around Kaito, and dragged him closer. Kaito could feel the tentacles reacting to his fit of temper and winding around him again as if to make sure he couldn't go anywhere, couldn't be dragged away. Obviously Shinichi was feeling very grabby tonight. “I won't let anyone, anything, take you. Not some person, not death, not the gods. Nothing.”

Shinichi leaned in toward him, the entire time he was murmuring what sounded like 'mine' over and over again, until Kaito found his lips drawn into an all consuming kiss. The slide of Shinichi's lips over his was possessiveness incarnate, and, maybe such a declaration should have disturbed him, but it only reassured him. Kaito slid his hands up Shinichi's chest, where he felt nothing but the warm body beneath the smooth black suit. Almost before he could part his lips, Shinichi forced his tongue into his mouth, but Kaito didn't complain, merely curled his fingers into the lapels of Shinichi's jacket and let the Shinigami conquer him.

The twine, push, and shove of their tongues made him moan and press closer. He could feel the misleadingly fragile weight of the phantom tentacles around his legs, from ankles to thighs, and others around his arms from wrists to shoulders: They were like bands of coolness that pressed his clothing tight to his skin.

Shinichi's hands curved around his hips, then smoothed upward to rest over the sharp wings of Kaito's shoulder blades, beneath the fabric of his suit coat, but atop that of his shirt. He didn't worry about Shinichi setting off any of his tricks and traps, knew the Shinigami probably knew what he had on him as well as he did. Instead, Kaito pressed forward, returning the kissing just as fiercely until Shinichi relented, retreated, and let Kaito follow.

The Shinigami sucked teasingly on his tongue, and Kaito gave a sound that was muffled and low in his throat. Arousal was heating his veins far faster than the slow, almost timid burn from before. And, when they pulled apart, he plucked at Shinichi's lower lip for a moment with his own lips before he gave way to gasping for breath. He could see Shinichi's smirk from the corner of his eye, but paid it no mind because Shinichi's hands were sliding back around, and smoothing the fabric of his shirt against his skin as they went.

He could feel his hands petting down his sides, slow and lazy, before raising back back up to rest on his pectorals almost teasingly. Kaito bowed his head slightly, and tried to get hold on the dizzying thoughts going through his head. He'd always known that his mind was like a revolving door, but sometimes it just got a little overwhelming. He focused, instead on the sight of Shinichi's hands beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. They were fumbling slightly, as if the cool and collected Shinigami were losing his concentration. One of the tentacles wound around Kaito's waist beneath his shirt and squeezed slightly.

“These aren't a strain to keep up are they?”

“No,” the Shinigami said shortly, apparently the question wasn't even worth his attention. Shinichi made a little satisfied sound when he finally got the buttons undone, and shoved Kaito's shirt open. Then he grinned up at him, all teeth and predatory intent. “I don't even have to think about them.”

Which meant that the damn things were working under some sort of subconscious control, and considering how intent they were on clinging to him... Kaito really couldn't help but wonder what all this said about Shinichi's psyche, but the thought was firmly batted aside when Shinichi flipped Kaito's tie over his shoulder then bent his head and dragged the flat of his tongue over one of Kaito's nipples. The sudden stimulus made him jerk and suck in a breath that then came out as a hiss when the tentacle around his waist slithered further upward to curl over his shoulder, dragging itself over his other nipple as it went.

Kaito was pretty sure his parietal lobe was going to implode from pure sensory overload: Hot and cold, wet, firm and light. He stuttered out Shinichi's name, which made the Shinigami give a satisfied sound, and move his mouth to trace the scarred characters on Kaito's chest with the tip of his tongue while his hand came into play, smoothing warm and firm up Kaito's side to rub a thumb over the nipple Shinichi had just been tonguing.

He lifted one hand to rest against the back of Shinichi's skull, curled his fingers into his hair, and stared a bit dazedly at the tentacle that still had his monocle. He was feeling disjointed again, but it wasn't a bad disjointed, it didn't feel like his brain was about to be overturned like a puzzle and the pieces scattered. He slid his hand down to rest on the nape of Shinichi's neck. His pulse was fast, strong, and loud in his ears, and he couldn't imagine that Shinichi didn't hear it. It was like the repetitive thump of a drum.

Shinichi nuzzled against his neck, and Kaito obligingly tilted his head back. All over him he could feel the cool, writhing sensation of the tentacles: They were under his cloths, over them, all around his legs and arms and torso. Sliding over sensitive patches of skin with a sort of single mindedness that made him feel like Shinichi's attention was fully focused on him. Several of the tentacles had threaded between his legs, pressed against his crotch where they slithered and shifted. It wasn't even enough pressure to do anything for him but tease, and he had every suspicion that that was Shinichi's goal. He didn't bother to quell the restless shift of his hips, no matter how widely Shinichi smirked against his bared throat.

Movement caught Kaito's attention as something swung passed the corner of his hooded eyes. He turned his head slightly to see the charm of his monocle swaying where it dangled nearby. At least Shinichi was mindful enough not to let it get lost. Kaito reached out, whether with the intention of tucking the monocle away, or something else he hadn't the faintest with the way the drum beat of his own erratic pulse drowned out all his thoughts. Whatever his goal had been, though, he found himself sliding his hand over the smooth curve of the tentacle instead.

Shinichi murmured into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and pulled him closer, all of the tentacles wound around him twining closer, and giving a little ripple sort of squeeze that made him shiver. Kaito could feel them all over his body, had been feeling them or awhile now, but having one under the sensitive touch of his hand made him focus more sharply on it. It wasn't like anything natural: No suckers like an octopus or squid, which was good, and no scales like something reptilian, a fact that Kaito was infinitely glad of. While he had nothing against snakes, well, scales tended to make him think of certain things...

The tentacle was just smooth, not even the texture of skin, and faintly slick. He didn't think he had any words in his repertoire that could properly describe the way it felt. He could feel his skin becoming damp with the slime the tentacles secreted as he ran his palm over it, could feel Shinichi pressing closer, and the warm wet trail of a tongue sliding up to his ear before teeth gently caught and pulled at his ear lobe.

Kaito gave a murmured sound of enjoyment, and slid his other arm more firmly around Shinichi's shoulders. “Do that again.”

The Shinigami laughed, complied, then delicately ran the tip of his tongue around the shell of Kaito's ear. His breath made Kaito shiver pleasantly as Shinichi purred into his ear, “You're distracted. I don't like it.” As if to punctuate his displeasure, Shinichi's tentacles tightened their grip around his groin, increasing the pressure and rub of his pants against the erection he'd been developing. It sent a hot throb of desire through his veins that made Kaito grunt.

He supposed that meant that Shinichi wanted all of his attention, and nothing less. Not, of course, that the fact surprise him. Sometimes he thought that Shinichi craved attention more than he did, until he realized Shinichi wasn't bothered to get anyone's attention but his. “You have it,” Kaito assured, then tried to rub himself against his lover, but Shinichi wasn't having any of it. Shinichi backed off, just enough, and the tentacles, no matter how tightly wound around him they were, didn't serve to provide any friction. When he moved, they moved with him.

Kaito gave Shinichi an imploring stare, but the Shinigami merely grinned widely at him. It was a grin full of wicked promise that made his blood heat all over again. “Shin-i-chiiiii,” he whined slightly, and, closing his fist around the tentacle he'd been absently fondling, he gave it a slight tug.

“Kaito,” Shinichi replied, almost mockingly, and reached up to take Kid's monocle from the grasp of the self same tentacle. He tucked it into one of Kaito's many inner pockets on his suit coat.

Feeling more than a bit petulant, Kaito released his grip on the tentacle and examined the slime all over his palm and fingers. Like the tentacles themselves, it had a faint purple glow to it, though the liquid itself was clear. Kaito brought his fingers together, and smeared it between them. Whatever it was, it wasn't sticky, nor was it a liquid: It had the same consistency as a gel, and slid smoothly over his skin. “What is it?”

Shinichi made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like annoyance, and glanced at his hand. “It's ectoplasm.”

Kaito blinked several times in surprise, then turned to gaze at the Shinigami who was watching him with a sort of aggravated expression that seemed to ask why he was interrupting for this conversation. Still, Kaito couldn't help the incredulous tone as he asked, “You mean, like, ghost goo?”

The Shinigami wrinkled his nose slightly at Kaito's description, even as he looped one arm around Kaito's waist and began to work his belt buckle open with his other hand. “I wouldn't call it that, it's just a side effect of paranormal manifestation.”

“There was none of this that time, before.”

Shinichi sent him a bored look. “I had manifested fully, these are mere extensions of myself, my power, beyond my physical form.”

Basically what he was saying was that the tentacles, and the ectoplasm, where just extensions of his power and true self. It made Kaito wonder what the real Shinichi looked like, and why he wore such a form, but he pushed it aside as a question for another day. Shinichi jostled his hips slightly as he tugged his belt free from its loops, and tossed it aside to be caught by another tentacle, which then deposited by his top hat with a faint clank from the buckle.

“Now,” Shinichi broke into his thoughts, and Kaito blinked, shifted his gaze, and realized that his lover was leaning in close again with a feral look on his face. The shadows of desire were thick in his eyes. “if you're finished?”

Kaito allowed a slow grin to spread across his face, couldn't help but want to play just as much as Shinichi did. After all, that's who he was, and, really, the first time he'd been so lost it had been like a fleeting brilliant moment that faded into the daze and haze he was living in. The Shinigami had been so overwhelming, he still was, but now Kaito was more used to him. And, maybe, just maybe, he wanted to pay him back a little for his teasing, or maybe he was just that curious. He thought that maybe he should be unnerved, should wonder what other people would think of these circumstances, about how it seemed like something right out of a perverted fetishistic movie, but he wasn't.

Shinichi was Shinichi, tentacles or no, and Kaito had long ago promised to give him everything, because Shinichi had given him everything, even before he died. He had no qualms about it.

He lifted his hand up, and held his fingers above his face as if examining the ectoplasm a moment longer. It was hard to miss the impatient noise Shinichi made, the way his grip tightened all over him. Kaito was sure that his lover's patience was about to snap, gave it a few seconds more to make sure he was right on edge, because Kaito had always liked playing with danger, then slowly licked up his wrist, flattening his tongue over his palm, and let his eye flutter closed in a show of pure enjoyment. In reality the ectoplasm had no taste, but it wasn't a lie that he was enjoying himself.

Anytime he got to poke at Shinichi's composure was enjoyable, and, anyway, he couldn't deny the sparks of pleasure, lighting like little white-gold fireworks in the back of his brain, as he imagined the possibilities of this little game. Kaito curled his middle and pointer fingers, slid them between his lips, and let his imagination take him for a ride that made his half-hard cock stiffen further, made him restless, with growing arousal. Shinichi's gaze was like a physical thing, like a brand on his skin, that made him shudder.

Kaito slanted his eyes open, just wanted a peek at the expression on Shinichi's face, and wasn't disappointed. His glowing blue eyes were intense, sharp, and so focused on him it was almost terrifying. If he were someone else that attention might have made him quake, but all it did was stir something primal in him he hadn't known existed. He closed his eyes again, groaned around his fingers, swirled his tongue around them, pulled them out, and thrust them back into his mouth.

When Shinichi's patience finally snapped, Kaito was sure he could almost hear it. The Shinigami reached out and grabbed his arm, jerked him forward in a way that could be construed as rough, but it made Kaito laugh, breathless and just as impatient. The tentacles around him slithered and clutched, leaving damp paths of ectoplasm across his skin as their cool touch made him shivery all over.

He reached for Shinichi, his fingertips sliding over the fabric of his coat with every intention of opening it so he could get at his shirt, only to have his hands caught in Shinichi's. The Shinigami grinned at him, a sort of daunting gleam in his luminous eyes as he tugged Kaito closer and nudged his arms over his shoulders. “Shinichi, what–” Kaito's words cut off, in fact he was pretty sure he'd stopped breathing, because several of the tentacles, some curving downward, resting along his hips, some slithering upward from his thighs, had just curled around his restrained cock.

They were cold against his heated skin, but not enough of a shock to quell his arousal. Shinichi gave his arms another tug to pull them chest to chest, and rested his lips against Kaito's temple. The Shinigami's hand slid up his arm, passing straight through his own tentacles, to Kaito's shoulder, then smoothed down his side in a single long stroke before nudging Kaito's pants and boxers lower until his cock came free. He looked down, between their bodies, and watched the translucent tentacles twine along the length of him. They wound around his cock from base to tip, contracted slightly in a soft squeeze that made him gasp, and slid, writhed, wet and cool, against him in a way that had him leaning into Shinichi for support as his knees seemed to lose all integrity.

The narrow tips touched, lightly here and there, stimulating the sensitive nerves, and teasing his erection into hardening further. Another tentacle slithered around his balls, then looped around the base of his cock, and squeezed just enough to make him grunt in pleasure. He rolled his hips forward, seeking friction, pressure, anything to build the feeling higher, but Shinichi was continuing to keep away. At least the tentacles were being more cooperative now, and slid down, squeezing as he thrust forward, then pulled back to accommodate for his restless movements.

“Shinichi,” he hissed, when the Shinigami merely chuckled, low and dark, and as thick with desire as his own voice sounded.

Cool bands looped around his wrists, and Kaito sent them a lust fogged glare knowing they were strong enough to keep his hands where Shinichi wanted them. That, however, didn't stop him from turning his head into Shinichi's neck, and pressing lips, tongue, and teeth to the pulse point just below the line of his jaw.

Shinichi's hand skated down his back, slid under his coat and shirt, and came to rest on the small of Kaito's back with his fingers splayed, his pinky finger just touching the top of his ass. With his other arm curled around Kaito's upper back, Shinichi dragged him closer still. The fabric of his clothes rubbed against Kaito's chest where the tentacles didn't cover. Kaito made an annoyed sound: Shinichi's movement had caused him to lose his target. He could feel Shinichi's chin against his shoulder, and the slimy cool curl of tentacles shifted slightly, the ones around his thighs edging higher.

He could feel a coil of one of the tentacles slowly uncurl from around his torso. It touched him, briefly, on his spine, running down it from nape to ass, then the tip of it flickered briefly over the backs of his thighs. Shinichi tilted his head, rubbed it against the side of his, then pulled back enough to murmur into his ear, “I'll give you this chance to back out now, Kaito.”

Kaito shivered at the intent in his voice, in his actions, and a squeamish human part of him thought that backing out was a wonderful idea, but another part of him, the part that had always, would always, live on the edge didn't care. And, that, alongside with the arousal heating his veins that wanted nothing more than the continued high of sex, and all the screaming hormones and endorphins that involved, thoroughly overruled any other negative emotion that may have caught in the cobwebs of his brain.

With an inhale, he pressed his face against Shinichi's shoulder, eyes sliding to his near hand and the tentacle wound around his wrist. It was all his own fault in the end, really. “I'm tired of you teasing, anyway,” he muttered, voice muffled.

Then, he twisted his head to the side and craned forward to run his tongue over the tentacle around his wrist. Shinichi seemed intent on keeping his hands out of play, but that certainly wasn't the only thing he could do to return some of the torment to the Shinigami. After all, Shinichi had to get some sort of feeling from the damn things if he was so intent on torturing Kaito with them, and he had said that they were extensions of himself. Shinichi stiffened against him, and Kaito couldn't help the wicked grin that lit his face. So, he did it again, and the hiss he elicited from his lover was worth it.

He'd even go so far as to guess that these things were more sensitive than Shinichi was letting on, he certainly seemed to enjoy touching him with them a great deal. Maybe it was because they were closer to the Shinigami's raw, true self, or maybe it was just because Shinichi felt that his 'mortal' body didn't measure up. Whatever it was, it had an obvious effect.

The tentacles had loosened their grip on him just slightly, and Kaito used to chance to try and press closer to his lover, but the one around his waist tightened again, and held him in place. “You're no fun.”

Shinichi scoffed lightly, but it was obvious enough what he meant: He'd give Kaito more 'fun' than he could handle by the end of this little jaunt. A tentacle slithered up, looped around his neck, then across his lips, whether to keep him quiet, or to stop him from distracting Shinichi, Kaito hadn't a clue, or maybe the Shinigami was aiming for exactly what Kaito did next, it didn't matter. Still, he parted his lips, curled his tongue under it, and drew the slimy length into his mouth.

Like before the feel of it was as indescribable as it was when he'd run his hands over it. He pressed it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, and found it gave slightly. He could feel the ectoplasm coming off it, coating his tongue in a slimy film that wasn't particularly appetizing, but he didn't let it stop him from swirling his tongue around the tentacle. When it pulled back slightly, though, he did take a moment to swallow some of the stuff. It slid down his throat, thick and strange. More of the ectoplasm coated his lips, and slid down his chin. He didn't care, could hear the steady increase of Shinichi's breathing near his ear, and that was enough to encourage him.

A hand clasped on his bare hip, forced him to cease the little movements he'd kept up in search of stimulus, and Kaito inhaled sharply through his nose as one of the Shinigami's tentacles slithered along the crack of his ass. The cool touch made him shift, but it also made his muscles tighten with the knowledge of where exactly Shinichi was taking this. The tip of the tentacle curled over his hole, spreading the slime across his skin a little more thoroughly. The coolness of it made him quiver, made a sound emerge from low in his throat that he could never put a name to.

Shinichi's breath was hot against his shoulder, even through the material of his clothing. The hand near his shoulders curled into his suit jacket, knotting the fabric into Shinichi's fist. The tapered tip of the tentacle prodded lightly at him, and Kaito inhaled deep, twisted his tongue around the one in his mouth and sucked at it. Shinichi murmured something, murmured it over and over again against his shoulder.

It took a bit of effort to make his brain concentrate on it, pick the words apart and make them make sense, but when he did they made a shiver creep over him just as surely as the first time he'd seen them.

Death loves you. Death loves you. Death loves you. Deathlovesyou.

It pressed in, cool, and slick, just the narrow tip: Testing and teasing. He could feel it press in shallowly, once, a little deeper, twice, and had he been able to he might have started swearing at Shinichi for being a sadistic bastard, but he couldn't speak around his mouthful. Instead he tried rocking backward on the next shallow probing, but Shinichi's grip afforded him only minimal movement. He gave a frustrated sound, which was quickly turned into something that was half gurgle, half gasp as the next probing thrust drove the tentacle in far deeper.

Kaito coughed, choking slightly on a combination of ectoplasm and saliva, even as more of it dribbled from the corners of his mouth. His fingers tightened their hold on Shinichi's suit coat convulsively, and, as he breathed in little gasp of air at the strange sensation, he curled his arm further over Shinichi's shoulders to clutch the fabric between his shoulder blades. He turned his head aside, coughing a few times against the thick fluid sliding down his throat. Shinichi's hand slid soothingly down his back, while the other squeezed his hip.

Even inside of him the thing seemed to shiver and writhe, a cool spreading girth, not too large to cause anything beyond mild discomfort, and, with the slime that constantly oozed off of it far more slick than anything else. The oddest sensation, though, was most definitely the tapered tip, squirming against his insides. He didn't know what to think of it, couldn't put any words to it.

Then it pulled out, and came back, setting up a slow rhythm that made him want to move too, but Shinichi was unyielding in his grip, kept him almost completely still, and Kaito could feel him shifting his head, his chin digging into Kaito's shoulder, as he stared down the line of his back.

Another of the tentacles joined the first, careful at first before the previous rhythm picked up again. He might have enjoyed the Shinigami caring enough to be careful with him, but at this point all he wanted was for him to give him what he wanted. Then the two tentacles were gone, living him feeling unfulfilled and taught, so on edge he was reading to kill Shinichi if he didn't do something about it now, until they returned abruptly, twisted together. They were heavier like this, had more weight and force behind them, and the feel of them was interesting in its own right. There wasn't any real discomfort, the ectoplasm was slick enough to make the penetration easy even as oddly deep as the tentacles could go.

And, when they rubbed over his prostate Kaito gave voice to a slew of curses. Two tentacles wound around his legs, resting snugly, right up against the crease of his inner thighs, tugged slightly to pull his legs further apart, and Kaito obliged even if moving made him feel like he was going to pitch to the ground as shaky as his legs were.

He panted wetly, and ground his arousal heated face into Shinichi's shoulder, eyes closed to enjoy the sensations without bothering with other possible distraction. He could feel contact all over his body: Every part of him seemed to be pressed either against Shinichi's warm body, or encompassed by a mass of light, writhing bands.

The tentacles around his cock contracted again, and Kaito breathed out every curse and epithet he could remember, which, at that point weren't very many. Despite the cool touch of the tentacles he was sweating, and he felt so damn hot, his skin too tight, and the the arousal in him rising to a fever pitch. Just a little more...

Then he was there, he knew it, could feel it, just one more stroke across his prostrate had him giving an unintelligible shout, but instead of the expected orgasm he felt the tentacle wrapped around the base of his cock tighten until it strangled away his release, and roughly pulled him back from the edge.

Part 2