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“May I have this dance?”
There were a number of demons that have approached Iruma today so far. Many for talking, some for dancing. Azz who was also present rejected these requests for he never could, but now was the one moment Azz was gone with the self-assigned task of obtaining snacks for him. Iruma did not sense this presence until it made itself known, as if they had just removed Detection Warding magic. It makes Iruma’s breath catch in his throat with a startle, turning to face the sultry sweet voice of a demon he could never forget, even after a year.
“Kiriwo…senpai.” Iruma breathes out at the sight of Ami Kiriwo, half his bangs slicked back and donned in a beautiful, noble uniform much like the other demons in the ball. Yet, it was the only outfit he couldn’t look away from until Kiriwo’s lips outstretched into a smirk, a low chuckle that warmed Iruma’s face spilling free.
“Aw man, Iruma-kun, are you rejecting me?” There’s a dangerous glint in Kiriwo’s eyes. The same one he had when he pinned him down in the secret hideout. The same one Atori had when he tried to kidnap him. Iruma knows it's dangerous, knows it doesn’t make sense that Kiriwo is here when last he heard of him was of his arrest, and not of his release. But yet Iruma finds his hand atop Kiriwo’s black glove.
“I don’t know how to dance.” Iruma doesn’t even process what he just said until Kiriwo chuckles, so familiar, yet so different.
“I’ll lead you.” Although Kiriwo is smiling, the glint is only all the more obvious with Iruma’s acceptance. Another hand is placed upon his lower back, pulling him close to the other demon as he’s guided to the dance floor with long strides. Iruma tries to keep his gaze down to the floor in his embarrassment, but his eyes keep flitting to the outfit Kiriwo is wearing and just how different his face looks with just his hair slicked back. He gets caught several times, although his face burns no less each time.
“Then,” Kiriwo’s voice pulls Iruma’s attention away from his latest attempt of counting each line of tile they pass, effectively trapping him from looking away again with just his smile alone, “let’s begin, Iruma-kun.”
True to his word, Kiriwo leads him. Iruma’s feet somehow don't step on Kiriwo’s thanks to this, even with all the graceful twists and spins Kiriwo has them do together. Iruma should be impressed, he never would’ve thought Kiriwo would’ve been so good at ballroom dance. But all he can focus on is Kiriwo’s far larger, gloved hand wrapped around his (they suit him so well, Iruma thinks), the arm holding him pulling him in what Iruma dares to believe is possessiveness, and their chests being flush against one another until Kiriwo drops him into a low dip back.
Iruma swallows. He takes in a large gulp of air, but feels no less breathless than before when Kiriwo leans down until his lips are just beside his ear.
“I wanted to see you for so long, Iruma-kun.” The sigh into his ear is so blissful, so relieved, that Iruma can only shudder and squeeze the arms that had somehow found their way around Kiriwo’s neck tighter. Me too, he wants to say, but Iruma fails to get his throat to do much more than a quiet gasp as fingers dig into the back of his shirt.
He thinks of the days of the Batra. Of their efforts to win the event, of the times they spent together alone in the secret hideout, and the night Kiriwo ran pointed nails through his hair as Azz and Clara slept. But most importantly he remembers the ‘Ami Kiriwo’ nametag still hanging in the Batra Room, and—
“I just couldn’t wait any longer. Hey, Iruma-kun, tell me…” of the face Iruma can never forget, “would you finally despair if I ate you?” There’s a barely audible rip as wings tear free and spread out to overshadow the chandeliers above and the outside world, leaving only he and Kiriwo behind within their own.
“Iruma-kun, Iruma-kun, tell me, tell me..!” Kiriwo’s free hand flies up to Iruma’s cheek to caress it with such gentleness as opposed to the arm still on his back which instead desperately claws at and pulls Iruma impossibly closer. Wild, dilated eyes dart along every inch of his face and body, too-sharp fangs bared within Kiriwo’s freely hanging open mouth, drool dripping onto the outfit Iruma had carefully chosen.
“Kiriwo-sen—”
“Ah! I almost forgot, I almost forgot. Haah…look, look,” Kiriwo fumbles with the collar of his own shirt, wrinkling the once perfect clothes in his rush to force it open and reveal the new golden ring hooked onto the choker around his neck, “I got a ring just like you..! We’re matching now, isn’t that great?” Iruma’s breath hitches and Kiriwo revels at his response, letting out a long, shaky sigh of ecstasy.
“Ahhh…” Kiriwo’s hand returns to gently caressing his cheek, nails sliding dangerously close to his eyes, “I promised that I wouldn’t kill you, but…” An all-teeth grin is bared, “just a bite would be fine, right?” There’s murmurs sounding all around Iruma, but he doesn’t hear any of them. He’s too focused on Kiriwo’s heavy breaths, and his widening jaw as teeth graze against his neck.
Flames erupt around them, and suddenly the outside world returns into existence.
“Iruma-sama!!” A new hand grabs his shoulder and tears him away from Kiriwo. Kiriwo’s smile does not drop, but it does change into an almost cold one as he turns to the demon now holding him—Azz.
“It’s nice to see you again, Asmodeus-kun.” Again?
“You bastard! What the hell were you doing with Iruma-sama?!” There’s a sword of flames in Azz’s other hand, and a vicious snarl stretched far across his face. Kiriwo, who is merely holding up a single hand for a barrier, continues to smile.
“I was giving my greetings.”
“Don’t screw with me!!”
Iruma’s knees decide to give out.
“Iruma-sama?!” Azz flies to his side, but Iruma cannot find it in himself to look up at him.
“... I wanted to see your despair face, but that expression isn’t too bad either. I’ll see you again soon, Iruma-kun.” Both he and Azz turn to him at this, Azz’s head whipping and Iruma’s a slow peek, but all that meets them in return are confused faces of onlookers.
“Dammit!! He got away again!” Azz hisses for a moment before returning his attention back to Iruma, “Are you okay, Iruma-sama?! Did he hurt you any—oh no.” Azz’s eyes land on the hand Iruma has on his neck where Kiriwo’s teeth once were. His face is pale with horror.
“Are you bleeding?!”
Iruma blinks, dazed and slow to process Azz’s frantic question. “Ah…” Slowly, he pulls away his hand from the spot and finds it clean. There is no blood, no pain. Only the lingering feeling of hot breath and sharp fangs, “... No, I’m not bleeding.”
Iruma doesn’t quite understand the disappointment in his response.
“... Iruma-sama..?”
Iruma gasps and quickly shoots to a stand, willing the flush overtaking his face to disappear (how long has it been there?), “S—Sorry, Azz-kun. I’m fine, I’m not hurt, I was just startled.” The worried look on Azz’s face does not fade, but luckily he isn’t pressed further.
“I can go after him immediately.”
“That’s okay! That’s—It’s too dangerous, Azz-kun. We shouldn’t separate for now.”
“... As you wish.” Azz still looks as if he wants to disagree and take off right this very moment to hunt Kiriwo down, but just like with Iruma’s insistence on being fine, Azz gives in. “At the very least, we should return to Sullivan-sama’s and Opera-sama’s side for now.” Iruma cracks a weak smile at this and nods, easily agreeing to Azz’s suggestion just as Azz has for him.
Similar to how when he almost got kidnapped by Atori not too long ago, Azz’s protectiveness flares up, even after they return to his grandpa’s side with Opera and nothing happens. There’s an arm around his waist again, but all Iruma can think about is how different it is from Kiriwo’s, or how his back feels so terribly bare.
“I got a ring just like you..! We’re matching now, isn’t that great?”
Iruma’s fingers graze over the ring on his finger, something strange fluttering within his chest.
They’re matching now.