KING OF FIGHTERS | 2026 | milk_and_oats


Untitled Song no.5

Pairing: Iori Yagami/Kyo Kusanagi

Rating: T

Tags: Canon-typical violence | Biting | Non-linear narrative

Summary: Five encounters across the years between Iori and Kyo, in which nothing and everything changed between them.



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Kyo Kusanagi was not stupid. 

He was well aware this was a debatable fact depending on who you asked, however, the self-assured fact still stands.

The protector of one of the three sacred treasures wasn't stupid, he just tended to play the part up to eleven as means to annoy other people, some more than othersand one of those lucky ones just happened to be on him and to lower whatever expectations others had of him. 

Especially his old man. 

He was self-serving to a fault, even more so if acting with his own interests in mind made his day easier and allowed him more time to laze around.

“Tch, not again…” The brunet breathed out, if this had happened a couple years ago he would've— huh

He actually did freak out that first time, but nothing Yagami did surprised him nowadays. 

This fact didn't bother him once he overcame the initial reticence to admit that not only could they work together to save the world; but that he actually understood the sole Yagami heir better than either of them were willing to admit for years.

An amused, satisfied sound left the other man's mouth. Yagami's tongue lazily dragged over his bloodied bottom lip and Kyo found it dizzying as his eyes followed the action, not only because the redhead was licking Kyo's blood on himself, there was something about watching his rival reeling from the violence he enacted on him. Extinguished purple flames left traces of hunger in their wake, a hunger that sometimes made its way to the depths of his own stomach.

He lit up in flames his palm while hitting the pavement beneath him. “Damn it Yagami, how am I gonna explain the bites… on my neck!” grunting, his fiery decoy distracted Yagami enough to kick him with a swift knee to his stomach and flip them over with his other leg. He now had the other man with his characteristically red hair splayed all over the street— as if he were bleeding out.

 

Bleeding out unceremoniously on the pavement… Most of the time it felt like that was all they could ever hope to achieve, and so, it was what they continuously did.

 

Kyo Kusanagi was not blind nor stupid, his teeth and his jaw aching not only from the punches and burns it had received, aching as they itched to reciprocate. 

He wondered if the other man enjoyed their battles more than the excuse for close contact they provided. The Kusanagi heir certainly had fun, more often than not, whenever they physically clashed in the recent years after their animosity mellowed out into more of a rivalry (even if the other denied it).

Chest heaving, Yagami breathed out, “How will you, I wonder. Better hide it from that woman.” The redhead was visibly reeling from the taste of his rival’s blood, shivering beneath Kyo's hands pushing down his chest— ribcage, one leg caging him in and the other between his ever present red pants, it would be so easy to tangle themselves with the strap connecting the legs of Yagami’s pants... The idle thought made him self conscious, now keenly aware of not hitching his thigh up to the other's lower body. Both of them were burning up, their body heat converging at their proximity, as glazed eyes focused on his own with a shuddering breath underneath burning hands that couldn't choose between crushing his sternum or his trachea. 

Kyo Kusanagi wasn't stupid. He wanted to bite back in retaliation for Yagami biting him first, a payback to that recurring claim on his neck when they sparred, an offering of equal passion for violence. 

But Iori Yagami's bites and flames were more than just bloodthirst, they were possessive and full of want, his own wounds burning with unbearable need for more— violence, passion, want, Kyo, Kyo, Kyo— 

 

and Kyo Kusanagi was not blind to such raw displays of desire. 

 

Although, he might be a bit heartless, as he caresses upwards from Iori's fast-beating chest up to his neck and finally to his defined jaw; resting his gloved hands on heated cheeks before igniting them to end their scuffle— and forfeit the fire it left in them before it consumed both of their existences. 

 


 

“Will you run away again?”

Leaning against a wall on one of the less busy streets near the Kanzaki river, Kyo didn't bother to turn his gaze upwards. He knew the familiar pace of the footsteps long before their owner spoke in his usual low timbre, the slowly approaching winter breeze tickling his bare nape, devoid of the usual hair strands covering it.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his chin upwards, his silent demand understood not even a second after by Yagami as he lighted up the cigarette in the brunet's chapped lips with a weak purple flame. Grunting in appreciation, Kyo took a drag and slowly blew it away as he finally compelled himself to take a look at the man in front of him, his side profile partially hidden by the furred trim of the redhead’s jacket. 

 

‘What a waste of a good looking face’, some model scouting agency might've thought when looking at the defined jaw in front of him, not a speck of makeup out of place, deceivingly long eyelashes fluttering against the cold, carefully kept fiery hair contrasting nicely with his cold demeanor outside brawls and yet, his reddish-brown eyes could never deceive in their intensity—

 

Yagami took out his own cigarette and held it between his thin lips. Abruptly removed from his wandering mind, Kyo took out his hand from his white jacket's pocket to light the other man's cigarette with a flame of his own; igniting them didn’t bring any pain to himself, yet it felt graceless when compared to how Yagami usually lit up his cigarettes.

“Yeah sure, if I feel like it.” Came his late reply in between nicotine drags and ash flicking.

A pair of hands caged him in, cigarette tips close enough to touch, they should've lighted them up like that— Kyo almost lamented.

He glanced at the long eyelashes in front of him and he definitely lamented it. 

“How long will you keep me waiting?”, his brown eyes almost burned red in their usual intensity, the Kusanagi heir surprised himself by admitting that he never quite caught a good look at Yagami's eye color; either because of the riot or because most of the time he boldly met him head on but never allowed himself to linger on Yagami’s eyes— it would harm them both, an honest man with candid eyes to match the set. 

“...I don't understand what holds you down, nor do I care,” Yagami said with his cig dangling precariously from his lips. “But you do.” The man followed his remark by briefly joining the ends of their cigarettes together, making them burn brighter as ashes fell.

Kyo felt his teeth ache, the taste of Yagami’s blood a distant memory, all he tasted nowadays was his own blood dripping down an occasional broken nose. What held him down? The answer was muddled and sullied beyond repair to him. Was he purposefully hurting the other man by denying him over and over again? Or perhaps he was denying himself the long lost missing piece to their usual fights, forcefully torn from the puzzle like a bite. Bitter dissatisfaction arose when he belatedly remembered the one person it would truly harm if they gave in to the dangerous passion that crept amidst every clash of their flames.

It would be an admission he wasn’t willing to make, or maybe multiple ones, depending on what he decided to confess. Even if they had secretly parted ways.

A cocky huff left Kyo's lips as he shrugged, the very image of disinterest taking over his demeanor, “Whatever lets you sleep at night,” he replied as he slowly closed his eyes, a lazy smirk endangering the cigarette on his lips. 

“But I'm outta here, either follow me for a good old beatin’ or get lost, Yagami.”

Cheekily, he took one last drag of his cigarette before blowing up the smoke to Yagami's face, but before he could scowl any deeper Kyo snatched the cigarette from the redhead's lips and swiftly replaced it with his own half-smoked one before performatively walking away towards his bike, next stop: Flower road— or not.

“Brat.” He heard Yagami huff in indignation before he stalked off and took the lead, a regular fighting spot which was nearby already on their minds. The now short-haired brunet peeked at the man in front of him more-or-less hiding his face with the fur of his trench coat, and it made Kyo unexpectedly feel like the cat that got the cream. Genuinely smirking now, he took a drag of his newly acquired cigarette— Who was the childish one between them?

 


 

He remembers dragging a facedown Yagami by the sole strap adorning the belt of his newly acquired white pants, flared at the end but quite skinny at the thighs— ‘it must be annoying to walk in them’ he thought, already quite distracted by them, and so, he wasn't quick enough to avoid a backward kick near his groin. He hissed in pain and doubled over, catching a glimpse of the undoubtedly form-fitting pants as the redhead clawed his way out of a rather precarious position for a fight.

Yagami might have recently gotten his flames back, the word determination short on its meaning when faced against the one and only Iori Yagami, but he arrogantly decided to put his new moves to good use as he grabbed a dumbfounded Kyo by the front of his— newly ripped to shreds— t-shirt with a clawed hand and threw him over his head. 

The brunet scowled in frustration as he tried to stabilize himself in midair to no avail, untimely landing on his side. Kyo berated himself for his careless little slips, which would've been funny if he were anyone from Benimaru to Shingo—

And if not for the very irritating fact that he was currently getting his ass handed to him by Yagami, and without even breaking out the usual purple flames, to add to his shame. 

He crouched and prepared to feint the other man. Being at such a low angle gave him quite the view of Yagami's usually hidden midriff— What has gotten into him? ‘You're not in high-school anymore Kusanagi!’ He admonished himself with something that soured him more than the current situation. He needed to get a grip, he had already familiarized himself with the bassist's new wardrobe at the start of the yearly ‘crazy stuff happening on a King of Fighters tournament’ thank you very much! 

Unable to concentrate, a very hectic Kyo Kusanagi yelped as a hand grabbed him by the hair, the redhead gave him a bored look as he put them eye-to-eye, clearly in a bad mood if his thin eyebrow was anything to go by.

“Kyo! You're even more pathetic than usual,” Yagami spat with disdain in his tone, a lot more than what was usual for his already uncharitable remarks. They both scoffed but only the brunet diverted his eyes, uneasy all of a sudden, avoiding the other man’s piercing gaze and customary cleavage as he tried to free himself. The redhead growled at the back of his throat when a good placed kick managed to hit his side, yielding the hand that pulled on brown hair in favor of clutching Kyo’s lower-face with his claws. 

“If this is all you’ve got Kyo…”

In a spurt of indignation at being dismissed, the forearm in front of him was seized with both hands, a burst of flames igniting it in retaliation. Taking advantage of Yagami’s slight retreat, he surged forward and bit the redhead's hand with all the strength could muster out of his anger at their current match. Yet, it didn’t surprise Kyo when the lunatic in front of him started to laugh against all odds— or not, the brunet was honestly expecting such a reaction as his molars worked overtime on the hand. A glimpse of desire could be seen on Yagami's unsteady stare just before pushing him headfirst into the ground in an explosion of purple flames.

 


 

Resentment burned within him, how dare the other man— fuckin’ freak— take a mouthful out of his neck. What was he? A rabid dog chewing toy? Some kind of blood bank? The tear wasn’t too deep, yet it was deep enough to know that it would scar. Still shaking, he marched towards the room’s bathroom without uttering a sound.

Disgusted, Kyo threw his tarnished white t-shirt on the bathroom's sink, for once glad of not wearing his stupid school jacket and bleeding all over it after the man with an accursed bloodline attacked him half deliriously. 

Kagura was taking it too far with this whole Orochi sealing bullshit for his taste. In just what universe did the sealing job require the homicidal red haired man and himself holed-up in the same hotel room for the remaining tournament matches? Outrageous is what it was.

The brunet needed to vent out his anger quickly, and he was going to take it out on his aggressor, his flames stroking his want for retribution, punishment. Having the other overpower him was exhilarating most of the time, his need for a worthwhile adversary finally fulfilled. But deep down the teen was also cautious— frightened at the prospect of being swallowed whole by Yagami's seemingly endless ruthlessness. He felt inferior to the other man’s fervor and that irked him, wasn't he the one who came out victorious the most in their confrontations? Then why couldn't he match Yagami in his raw passion? It felt oddly earnest from the other man; completely delighted when their flames stroked their bodies in combat, when they traded blows until both of them were a bloody mess, and either tasted dirt on their mouths or felt burns from being dragged through the asphalt.

Shirtless and incensed, confusion aggravating his temper, Kyo doused the bite on his neck with alcohol, roughly rubbing the wound with the solution and reveling in the burning sensation against the open wound. Did Yagami take pleasure from things like this as well? He pressed against the wound, applying more and more pressure as the seconds went by. Kyo felt the ghost of lips curling up in satisfaction before lapping at the blood fresh on his skin. Both of them took pleasure from beating each other up, he gasped for air at the realization— the pain and the anger, did that make him a sadist like Yagami? or were they masochists?

The Kusanagi heir recoiled his hand from the wound, he wanted— needed, those words and the red haired freak far away from his thoughts. 

A desperate need for violence overtook him, and that by itself disgusted him further. A whirlwind is what Kyo had become, leaving the bathroom in disarray. The wet sound of his shirt hitting the floor with more force than necessary rivaled the green light in car races as it echoed in the empty bathroom.

No warning was given as he set the bed covers aflame, ignoring whether the man was still unconscious or not.

“Get up.” words seemed difficult to utter right now. 

“Yagami get up, you bastard!”

Scorched clothes under his weight, the brunet growled, roles now reversed as he assaulted the other's throat— with his still warm hands, growing more furious by the second at the lack of response: no fight, no heat, no passion; his desperation evident against the unnaturally cold skin beneath him. A deep slumber had taken Yagami after lunacy had yielded its hold on him. Pent-up, Kyo screamed out, his left hand roughly yanking red hair to one side as his other fist prepared to strike down. Or maybe he could take a bite of his own.

A weak palm landed on the mattress next to Yagami's inert face.

 

It wasn't worth it.

 

Kyo climbed off the sleeping body, frustration left his mouth in grunts and cursed under his breath as his feet hit the ugly carpeted floor. He snatched a pack of cigarettes that weren't his from the bedside table and left the hotel room in a fury, door slamming shut behind him.

 


 

They clashed against the sand just like the ocean waves crashed against them. Wet jeans clung to him uncomfortably, probably chafing his skin as the other man clung to him in turn, as if for dear life— as he brought his clasped hands down Kyo's already bloody nose with brutal strength. Struggling, he managed to stop Yagami's full force on his skull at the last second with his own hands, which now tightly clutched clasped ones. Their eyes met in a blaze— yet the other's gaze briefly followed Kyo's tongue as he licked up the blood smudged against his upper lip, blood was still running down his nose, the white cross on his sweater long sullied in red.

They had come to blows hours ago, perhaps even days considering how disoriented he felt. Both had already discarded their jackets, or maybe they had taken them off each other, the aching want mudding their awareness to everything and anything that wasn't them. But as night turned into dusk by the sea, and the waves kept crashing into them, Kyo felt the world still against the purple flames that lingered around them and illuminated Iori's frame in a moonlit mirage, white shirt near transparent save a few blotches of red blooming on the wet fabric— the moonlight slowly receding as the redhead unexpectedly clung tighter to the body below him, and Kyo— he recklessly met him at the middle by moving their intertwined hands up his head and into the sand, surging forward to crash their mouths for the first time in a bloody mess of groans and bites. 

Years of laps at bloodied lips, either dribbling from a broken nose or a heaving mouth, drifted away from their memories not unlike sand slipping through their fingers. The sudden, unprecedented reciprocity stripped all familiarity from their usual dances away.

At some point they rolled around the shore and into shallow water, desperately holding on to each other as they grinded against wet clothes dragging them down, tugging at their clothes and hair as they kissed— and for the very first time, Kyo ventured his bruised lips down the neck of the man that was an unwavering constant in his life, daring to act on his own selfishness as he finally broke the skin with his own teeth, dragging them across the bloodied neck as Iori had done to him countless times before. The long lost choker now replaced with red bruises that in time would turn purple, they both gasped, acknowledging the act as mutually possessive, which in turn edged them further into desperation— rough caresses washed off the blood from their bodies as salt burned their wounds, but amidst the sea in which people might fear losing their lives by drowning, they felt like they were truly breathing for the first time chasing after their release.

 

 



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Author's note: Hi, I've had this on stand by for a year I think... but decided to finish it. Not beta read so lemme know if you find any typo :P something something the author's very visible biting kink... I had 4 specific time-frames for this, which you can guess by their clothes (or events) ;) with the exception of one part being in a non-specific time frame as a fun fact, i placed them near kanzaki river but between the esaka train station and the shin-osaka train station during the XIV section, it doesn't mean anything in particular tho :(