Kuramoe



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    Shadow Milk choked on a sound— half moan, half sob. His hips lifted from the ruined sheets, arching, searching desperately for friction, for anything that might soothe the gnawing ache within him.

    “I—” he stammered. “I haven’t— wanted anyone—” His breath caught, spine bowing sharply as Pure Vanilla sucked harder, tongue flicking mercilessly. “Not since— the silver tree.”

    “Not in years— maybe centuries— I don’t know— I don’t care!” His head tipped back, his eyes wild, pupils blown so wide they devoured the color. “Only you. Only you. Do that again—”

    Pure Vanilla let him go with a wet pop, his lips pulling back slick with saliva, a glisten coating the flushed blue bead. A thin line of wetness lingered as he licked his lips, his gaze heavy, unwavering.

    “Oh, you poor thing,” he murmured, and the words rumbled from deep in his chest, heavy with something tender. They were not cruel, not mocking, but genuine. His breath was warm where it ghosted over Shadow Milk’s chest. “You’ve been taking care of yourself for so long…”

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    09 Sep 2025