Pedigree
by Michalyn
for T-chan for the prompt, “Kunimasa and Norio. Jealous Kunimasa scenario.”
Notes: Sorry Kunimasa turned into an introspective sap on me >_<

The purpose of identifying a mate is to bear one’s child. It is not a matter of love but survival. Superior bloodlines must be cultivated or else they become contaminated. Contamination is weakness and only the weak are prey. Every Madararui knows this. Kunimasa especially understands this. So why does the sight of Norio napping on the couch, hand resting on his rounded belly make him him feel so damn helpless? Worse, when did he start to wonder if weakness was not such a bad thing?

End

Territorial
by Michalyn
Rating: MA/ NC17
Pairing: Yonekuni x Shiro
Author’s Notes: Springkink 2008 submission.

The problem was these jackasses were undoing all of his hard work. Yonekuni glared at the little coterie — no menagerie— surrounding his lover as usual. He despised Ouchou of course, but the others were equally irritating. At the moment, there was a high-strung canary gesticulating theatrically at Shiro, a long-faced greyhound holding a book and the two butt ugly monkeys who’d been Shiro’s friends since he entered high school.

Yonekuni hated winter because of the cold but lately he’d come to hate spring because of all the vermin who appeared out of the woodwork in the frenzy of the mating season, magnetized by Shiro’s delicious pheremones. His lover always seemed to attract the lowest common denominator too—light seed and mongrelized Madararui who’d become so unmeshed with the monkey world that their abilities were practically nonexistent. They couldn’t spot a scent-brand if it was staring them in the face. Every Madararui worth anything recognized Yonekuni’s claim for what it was(except Ouchou who hung around for spite). One whiff of Shiro and they gave his lover a wide berth. Not these idiots, though. They remained blissfully ignorant, yapping and prancing around Shiro, their soul’s appearances on vulgar display. They crowded and touched Shiro, tainting his scent and making a lie of Yonekuni’s claim.

It was true that with Yonekuni’s pedigree, his scent was pure perfume to their cheap cologne but that made no difference. It was the principle of the thing. Yonekuni did not want any other scent on Shiro besides his.

He stepped forward and couldn’t help the instinctive curling of his lip as he drew closer. He wanted to terrorize them all, wanted to wipe them off the face of the planet. He would have done it a long time ago too if not for one crucial factor: Shiro would be angry with him. Worse, it was possible he would be hurt and the sight of Shiro’s pained features always gave Yonekuni a feeling a lot like indigestion except the pain was much closer to his chest.

In the end he did nothing of the sort but only lurked a few steps from the lunch table so that Shiro could sense him. He rolled his broad shoulders, feeling the twinge of the bite there, a souvenir from last night’s fucking.

For most of Yonekuni’s life, Shiro had been the solitary boy who always seemed to be hovering around, craving Yonekuni’s attention. Yonekuni had assumed that if Shiro had any friends they could be counted on one hand. After all, Yonekuni was part of the popular crowd. It was literally unfathomable to him that any other group could exist or matter. Once he and Shiro became lovers, though, Yonekuni realized just how mistaken he was.

Shiro wasn’t solitary at all. Instead he was beloved. Everyone adored his intelligence and his gentle ways. Got a homework problem? Shiro could help. Need a shoulder to cry on? Shiro would be there to listen. Didn’t know how to talk to a professor about a problem? Shiro knew the best way to broach the issue. There was thus a constant pulse of activity around his lover. Yonekuni did not know how he could have missed it. In fact, the proof was in the nickname he used for Shiro himself. He wasn’t just Shiro, but “Pres”. People loved him enough that they had elected him student council president. If that did not say it all he did not know what did.

Not only that, Shiro’s popularity was to Yonekuni’s fame as night was to day. Shiro was surrounded by old friends who loved him, new ones who respected him and timid others who wanted to get to know him. Geeks, outcasts, misfits, the superbly well-adjusted—they all looked up to Shiro. Yonekuni on the other hand was mostly surrounded by opportunists attracted by his blood line, his wealth, his big dick (in those days before he was a taken man). They were fun to hang out with but there wasn’t a single one among them whom Yonekuni could count on. Lately, they had become even scarcer. Yonekuni’s scowl darkened. Who needed them anyway?

As soon as Yonekuni had begun approaching, Shiro had started turning towards him. He was trying to tell the canary that he had to leave but the twit kept chattering away. Yonekuni glowered.

“Pres.”

Shiro smiled. “Oh, Yonekuni. I’ll be right—”

“We’re going home.” Yonekuni yanked Shiro close and scowled at the little lunch group. In no time, they began to disperse. Finally they seemed to have gotten the message. Shiro was opening his mouth to say something but Yonekuni didn’t wait. He simply grabbed his lover and dragged him off to bed.

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Nature Show
by Michalyn
Warnings: Yonekuni + Shiro.
Rating: PG13

Notes: After reading Sex Pistols by Kotobuki Tarako, I fell in love with Yonekuni and Shiro so I went on a hunt for information about alligators and crocodiles and it turns out that they love to eat dogs.katikat then challenged me to write a drabble using that fun fact and my favorite couple.

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Shiro hummed under his breath as he nudged open the door. Thunder clattered behind him and he hurried inside as his clothes and the grocery bags he was carrying were speckled with rain. It was proving to be a mean winter but Shiro did not mind. Lightning and frost always brought Yonekuni to him, hunched and shivering like the wind-curled leaves that scuttled across his doorstep. The apartment was warm and toasty and Shiro was glad he had thought to leave the heat running that morning, not so much for his sake as for Yonekuni’s. He stared at the clouds beyond the kitchen window, so fat and heavy with moisture they seemed to touch the trees. Shiro cocked his head, listening through the rain for the sound of footsteps.

Over the years he had stopped trying to predict which frigid gust would bring Yonekuni. Sometimes Shiro had barely stepped inside than Yonekuni was upon him; other times he woke in darkness with Yonekuni’s primal scent in his nostrils, Yonekuni pressing him into the mattress and his mouth latching violently onto any part of Shiro’s skin he could find, so that in the morning Shiro was a map of love-bites and purpled flesh. What was new to Shiro though, were the kisses and caresses afterward, the silent but distinct gestures of thanks from the proud Madararui. For Shiro, now each new morning was like a dream he hoped never to wake from. That Yonekuni should care for him after so many years of hopelessness seemed impossible but it was confirmed in the little things: Yonekuni joining him for lunch, or acknowledging him as they passed each other in the hall. There were also more startling displays, most noticeably, Yonekuni’s possessiveness and the Madararui’s attempts to shield him from prying eyes as Shiro struggled to control his “soul’s appearance”.

Settling on the couch with a bowl of miso soup, Shiro turned on the televison. He flipped through the channels, pausing at last on a wildlife documentary. The narrator moved in close to the camera, murmuring with conspiratorial eagerness.

The crocodile is a wily creature. Haunting the wet areas of the Americas, Africa, Asia and Australia, this formidable creature and its its cousin, the alligator, remind us of those other powerful predators, the dinosaurs that roamed the earth once.

Shiro yawned. Setting his soup aside, he tugged the throw on the back of the couch about him. All the while, the television buzzed on. The narrator had moved on to the crocdile’s freshwater and saltwater habitats, its length at maturity and its mating habits. He extolled its speed and reported with relish the animal’s most notorious encounters with humans. Outside, the rain pelted the windows in an insistent rhythm and lulled, Shiro’s eyelids drooped. Sleepily, he wondered when Yonekuni would come to him.

Incidents like these however, are quite rare. With the exception of Saltwater and the Nile type, crocodiles rarely attack human beings. Even then, human-crocodile encounters are most often unintentional. Keep a close eye on Fido though, for no treat is quite as delicious to crocodiles as dogs. At over nine feet long, a full grown adult can and will eat dogs with great pleasure. Favorite hunting grounds are parks and other recreational facilities where families are likely to play with pets. You may coo at your dog’s melting brown eyes or marvel at its brisk dog paddle , but you can bet your average crocodile has some different ideas. Think prime rib, sukiyaki, sushi, shabu shabu, tempura… I’m sure you understand.

Shiro suddenly could not get warm enough. Awake now, he shivered, quickly turning off the television. He could not get the image of powerful jaws closing on a warm furred body out of his head. Shiro squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples, willing the mental picture away. Instead, it was overlain with Yonekuni’s eyes, his crooked smirk, his pale body knifing through the water….

Don’t touch me!

…Impossible for us to … be friends.

Love? What’s that?

I’m sorry, but you make me sick.

The old painful words that tore Shiro to the quick. Gasping, he gripped the blankets. His heart was beating so fast Shiro thought it would burst from his rib cage. Always this agonizing love. Was that time truly over? Shiro remembered Yonekuni’s weight above him, his mouth locked onto the tender curve of his shoulder.

The crocodile is a wily creature….

“Why the fuck are you sitting here in the dark?” Yonekuni’s voice startled Shiro so badly he almost leaped out of his chair. He pressed a hand to his chest, breathing deeply.

“No…no reason.”

“I’ll never figure you out, Pres.” Yonekuni shook his head as he unwound his scarf. He was not cold and insensate, nor driven by subterranean instinct as Shiro had expected, but dressed carefully for winter, bundled under thick layers of wool and cashmere. Shiro studied him and Yonekuni, cheeks ruddied by the wind, grinned down at him. Blond, hale and warm-blooded, he was incredibly alluring just then.

Setting his bag aside, Yonekuni stripped down to jeans and a pale blue sweater. He hung his coat on the rack and slid next to Shiro on the couch, pulling him into the circle of his arms. Yonekuni kissed Shiro with such heat, such thoroughness that Shiro was left clinging to the large blond like a lifeline. When a moan escaped him, Yonekuni made a rumbling sound of pleasure. His hand slipped possessively beneath Shiro’s sweater, fingers trailing upward to leave a wake of fire from belly to chest as Yonekuni found Shiro’s soft nipple and teased it to hardness.

“Wanna watch some TV?” Yonekuni nuzzled Shiro’s ear.

Shiro nodded, settling against Yonekuni’s shoulder as the other man thumbed the remote. The nature show had ended and Yonekuni flipped past a forensic special to an upbeat gameshow on a network channel. All the while he continued to caress Shiro, calling forth soft sounds from him and hot, tremulous pulses.

It was strange, this unblemished sweetness. Shiro hardly knew what to make of it. He smiled, inhaling Yonekuni’s woodsy scent. It would take time to get used to such happiness, when all Shiro had ever known was the pain of love—and longing as sharp as the spray of blood and the splinter of bone.

End