Disclaimer: As always, Yu Yu Hakusho isn't mine, and nor am I making any money from writing this fanfiction.

Dedication: I love you muchly, Ambie-chan. I'm so sorry I haven't written on this piece in awhile. Will you ever forgiveth me? And thank you, VixenOfTheWolves for nudging me to write this long, overdue chapter. Part II is now complete for Indomitable's prequel. Thank you for being gracious enough to not give up on this story, even though it's been at least two years since I last wrote on it. I'm really sorry if it's atrocious. I had a helluva time getting back into the swing of my original intentions, and I still don't know if I did that well enough.

Ch. warning(s): Angst. Yaoi. Two-timing. Love triangle. Not much is different from the first chapter, except that I didn't really twist an episode to suit my own purposes (but don't hold your breath; it's gonna happen in Part III. Hinthint: look at the first quote in Part I).

Rating: Light M. I kinda tease you with a little lime, and there's some foul language.

Ch. Inspiration Notes: Part II is in Hiei's POV and written for 30_caresses theme # 28 dishelved; in the rain; thunder and 7_virtues theme #5 patience at LJ for the Hiei/Yusuke pairing; This chapter is also written for 30_angsts theme # 11 . . . (~never really mine) for the Koenma/Yusuke pairing. Songs that partly inspired the chapter were Hinder's "Better Than Me" and Creed's "Rain."

Additional notes: "Terminal genesis" means in my mind something like "a start that never seems to end." I don't know if that helps, but it might. Please ask questions if you're lost. I know my writing style is kind of strange and my timeline might be confusing...

But for what it's worth, please enjoy my fanfiction. There's only two chapters left! I may actually finish a multichapter fic. It's mind boggling, ne?


Terminal Genesis: The Confessionals
Part II

Chapter finished on 6/27/11
Chapter word count: Roughly 1700 words


They say marriages are made in heaven. But so is thunder and lightning.—Clint Eastwood


Countless times I've asked myself why I let things continue between us because he's insufferable. A mere boy. Had the Detective been any other, he'd be dead by now. He can't make up his mind about what—and who—he wants, and I say little or nothing (What is there to say?) about the matter. I'm not myself with him while he is, with me. Or so he claims.

He's lied to them for years about us. To his human girl. The fox. His new mate. He's lied to everyone ("I don't lie to you," he said to me a year or so ago), and I've encouraged it. His conscience eats him alive for splitting himself in twos and threes. I let that happen, too, wondering when he'll completely break, yet I won't forsake what little he gives of himself to me. I'm as selfish as he is. Besides, who am I to cast stones at him for deception when Yukina will never know I'm her brother.


His blood tasted wonderful on my tongue this morning. Burning, zinging, precious metal doused in cold flame—Perhaps, what I'd taste if I kissed the side of a pistol he'd hold in his grasp. The salt from the sweat on his hand would echo strains of that blood I'd licked away. And the warm tears I had to caress from his cheeks...

Yusuke was crying. I wonder why I wasn't disgusted. He showed vulnerability. I knew I was seeing the first signs he was beginning to shatter. When he breaks absolutely, it will be with a blow like the Detective dealt to that mirror, and, once again, I will have to be there to pull the shards away from his wounds and force him to put himself back together.

We're beings forged with baser instincts, from hell and darkness, so he must learn to embrace the resilience found in demons because fragility is for his humans.

Yet I couldn't stand the way those jagged pieces invaded his skin, so I kissed, sucked, and bit each piece away. With long, drawing sweeps of my tongue between the ridges of his knuckles, on the smooth planes of his forehand, I could make him mine again, even if it was only for a little while. Wet and warm, I knew he could feel the fire, and I knew he needed it. Sun-kissed flesh, rough and silken in the same breath, his heat and life pulsing beneath my lips, my teeth...

Somehow that moment reminded me of what it feels like when I'm inside him, taking him over one inch at a time, when I possess him from the inside out.

My tongue kissing, closing, his open, bleeding wounds—an exchange, maybe even a vow, was made from such an invasion. I don't have to tell Yusuke with many words ("Don't be a fool," I'd whispered in his ear) that some part of him will always be mine.

I indulge his ravenous hunger and cover what his conscience considers "illicit" in shadow. I don't think what we share is ugly, but what goes on between the Detective and myself is not the others' business. I encourage him to keep his silence because I don't want to lose my piece of him.

If only I were his dark, dangerous secret... I don't really care what the others think, but he does, so I, in a way, strangely do (for his sake). What we have is "dangerous" because he's changing me. How he has been changing me the twelve, thirteen years since our "trysts" began.


There are a thousand—and more—things the boy doesn't know about me or what I do and can and will do. For instance, the Detective had no idea I was watching him in the sanctum of their bedroom this morning. It's no secret that I've broken into the Reikai before—from personal experience, I know pathetic wards guard the death god's treasure vaults; Koenma hardly has any protection on his personal rooms at the palace. Koenma doesn't know—and it better stay that way—I'm able to mask my energy when I choose. I was surprised Yusuke couldn't sense me as he usually does.

I felt a surge of delight knowing that I could pervade the "sacred" space Koenma and Yusuke share, without their knowledge. It gives me something more over them. I take something precious away from Koenma, and I get a little more of the Detective in the process.

Though, I'm angry at myself for making an appearance in the bathroom when he smashed the mirror. I just couldn't stop myself. Something in me couldn't stand to see him...hurting (The thought makes me cringe I'd even say that). As punishment, I was "absent" from the bonding ceremony between the Detective and Koenma; I don't know who exactly I was...trying to chastise. I don't even really know why I was here today...in one of the places I hate most in all three worlds. The Reikai is an appalling place to me, and I don't know how Yusuke believes he could ever be "happy" here.


Hours pass as I sit in the windowseat, right next to their bed, the covers on it a scarlet sea of sinful meaning—Yusuke was thinking of my eyes when he chose their bedding. A small smirk edges its way across my mouth at the secret knowledge that the Detective couldn't bear to forget me even when he's in another man's bed. One of my legs eventually stretches out while the other dangles off the side.

I watch the scene languish and blur through the glass from the time he leaves to the time the sun reaches half power at midday (the echo of celebration winds its way to my ears, but I don't really hear the clamor, the palace alive with the joy of a death god's union). I feel the warm breath of the sun's rays pulsate against my skin, and it's all I can do to close my eyes and not imagine Yusuke's breath ghosting across my neck, my arms, his hands wandering over my chest, peaking my nipples...

I should be off in the Makai killing weak things. Dare I say I'm...pining? The fox would have a field day if he even heard me even think that atrocious word. I wonder who would be considered the fool now—me or Kuwabara?

I place my sword, sheathed, the handle against one side of my throat to hold it in place, to secure it in my arms, as my head falls soundly against the cooling glass. While I do close my eyes, I think of nothing, not even the Detective's striking, butterfly stirring smile. A small nap might do me wonders.


The soft slithering of raindrops crawling down glass calls me to the surface of slumber, but it is the rumbling crash of thunder and the angry flare of lightening, that jerks me awake. My hands immediately go to pull out my sword, until I realize three things: one) I'm in Koenma's private chambers; two) it must be well beyond sunset; and three) He's staring at me like I've grown ten heads, with his Bonded sprawled—and sated—on their bed at his back.

Hiei, have you been there all day? Yusuke's words shiver like falling leaves through the caverns of my mind. I sometimes wish I hadn't taught him telepathy...

Hn. Why lie to him? My "shield" for masking my energy must have weakened sometime while I was asleep. It's a wonder Koenma didn't sense my presence—for that I suppose I'm grateful.

You're a creep, you know. If I didn't know you, I'd call you a pervert. Yusuke rolls his eyes with those words before startling me, by pulling me into his arms, into an awkward half-embrace.

I suddenly realize how chilly I'd gotten against the glass because his flesh is so damn warm against my own. My legs somehow end up folding around his waist, his hands carding through my hair, pressing the side of my face against his chest. Did ever I let him...cradle me before? How strange.

How the hell can you sleep through someone having sex? We were practically screeching like monkeys. What a way to kill the mood, Detective.

A low growl rumbles in my throat, and I push the boy away with enough power to knock him toward his bed, the back of his knees hitting the edge. Koenma shifts, and I can't bring myself to give a damn if he wakes.

Like hell I want to see or hear you go at it "like monkeys" with Koenma. And you could never know me, boy. It would take at least a thousand years. My eyes sweep him from head to toe and back up to his dark, smoldering eyes. I have to admit he does look good enough to eat, standing there naked in front of me.

"Make love to me in the rain," the Detective requests under his breath, but out loud.

"I "make love" to no one," I turn my back to him, placing my sword at my waist, where it belongs.

But when I finish, I turn back to him and still reach out my hand anyway.

He doesn't hesitate to grasp it. He doesn't even look at back at his mate, who curls up just then, with Yusuke's pillow (Who knew Koenma could smile in true innocence).

And who cares if the Detective will never truly be mine alone. I don't. Not when I'm the one he's turning his grin on in this moment. Not when it's his hand I'm holding close to my heart. The same hand I'd kissed earlier that day.

I've had tiny pieces of Yusuke for a long, long time. All I have to do is wait for that day he can give all of himself to me (and love will have nothing to do with it, of course). After all, it is me who has to be worthy of him, and right now, I'm not—and perhaps I'll never be. Because I can't give him all of me.

"Let's go, Detective," and we leave through the window, somehow managing to close it quietly behind us.

The boy would be back in Koenma's arms again soon enough, so I'll enjoy him while he's mine.


To be continued...