Archive of Our Own

Soshiro was good at many things, and he considered reading people like open books to be one of them. He had watched Kafka from the first moment he arrived for testing. He was good with the others, and a team player. People seemed to gravitate toward him like he had his own gravitational pull keeping everyone he adored nearby. 

From Reno to Kikoru, he took them under his arms, treating them like the fledgling adults they were and not the battle-trained soldiers they’d become. It would be endearing if not infuriating.

No one was that kind without a reason.

Soshiro told himself he was interested in Kafka a normal amount. That Kafka was just a puzzle he needed to figure out, and nothing more.

That didn’t excuse lingering eyes and wayward thoughts that always seemed to plague him during training.

Soshiro noticed everything about Kafka, from the way his body moved to the way his facial expressions changed. The more he watched, the more frustrated he became. How could someone be so effortlessly charismatic and annoyingly stupid at the same time? It was maddening, yet strangely intriguing. 

Soshiro had always prided himself on his analytical skills and logical thinking, but watching Kafka made his rational mind go haywire. He couldn't help but feel drawn to the man's infectious energy and genuine kindness, even though he tried desperately to push those feelings aside.

And of course, there was the physical aspect. Soshiro found himself staring far too often, taking in every flex of muscle and bead of sweat. He cursed under his breath, annoyed at himself for being so easily distracted. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tear his gaze away from Kafka's body. It was infuriating, and yet he couldn't deny the appeal.

Soshiro tried to push these thoughts away, to rationalize them as mere curiosity. But the more he observed, the more his own body betrayed him.

It was a dangerous feeling, one that went against everything Soshiro believed in. He was disciplined, rational, and logical. He didn't have time for silly crushes on oversized puppies.

Yet, despite all his attempts to rationalize his feelings, Soshiro realized that he was losing this internal battle. Every movement of Kafka's, every laugh that echoed across the training ground, only served to make the feelings stronger.

“Damn it,” he cursed to himself as he watched Kafka help up a fallen teammate with that same stupid, endearing grin. Why did this idiot have to be so goddamn hot?

Soshiro wanted to turn away, to look anywhere but at that cheerful, oblivious face. But he couldn't. His eyes were glued to Kafka like he was some kind of magnet.

He could feel the heat in his cheeks, the way his heart rate was speeding up as he continued watching. He hated himself for feeling this way, For being so affected by someone who was so painfully normal .

There was no logical reason for him to feel this way. Kafka was a typical, run-of-the-mill himbo, all muscles and grins and not a care in the world. He should've been easy to dismiss, just another loud, beefy body in a sea of them.

But there was something about him that made Soshiro's heart flutter. The way he laughed, the way he cared for others, the way his muscles rippled under his skin when he trained...

Soshiro hated himself for feeling this way. He felt like a damn teenager, blushing and stuttering every time Kafka was around.

He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that it was just a passing attraction. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. The way his heart fluttered when Kafka smiled at him, how his breath caught in his throat when he watched Kafka train, the way his skin tingled at the thought of touching him...it was all pointing in one direction.

And there was the other infuriating thing about Kafka. Despite being a walking golden retriever, he was also a damn good soldier. He was strong, dependable, and always willing to put himself in harm's way to protect his teammates.

Soshiro both admired and hated it at the same time. How could Kafka effortlessly balance being a goofball and a reliable fighter? It was maddening.

As the training session came to an end, Soshiro forced himself to look away. He couldn't keep ogling Kafka like a lovesick puppy. He had to pull himself together.

But as he heard Kafka's laughter ringing through the air, he couldn't help but steal one last glance. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Kafka smiled at him with that same cheerful, clueless grin.

Soshiro's heart skipped a beat. Damnit. He was so screwed.

He turned away quickly, hoping that Kafka hadn't noticed his reaction. But he knew it was useless. Kafka was observant in his own clumsy way, and he had most likely picked up on Soshiro's unease.

Soshiro cursed himself for being so obvious. He was supposed to be above this kind of thing. He was supposed to be cool and collected, not a flustered mess over a himbo soldier.

As he made his way back to the barracks, he tried to gather his thoughts. He had to get rid of this silly crush, and fast. It was unprofessional and completely illogical.

But try as he might, he couldn't erase the image of Kafka's smile from his mind. It was etched into his memory, like a tattoo on his heart.

He tried to remind himself of all the reasons why Kafka was unsuitable. He was carefree, oblivious, and seemingly without a single thought in his head. He was the exact opposite of Soshiro, and they were incompatible in every way.

But somehow, that only made him want Kafka more.

He spent a restless night, tossing and turning in his bed. Images of Kafka swirled in his mind, like a slideshow of misery. He saw Kafka's smile, his laugh, his muscles glistening with sweat.

He tried to push them away, to force himself to think of anything else. But it was impossible. Kafka had infected his mind, and he couldn't rid himself of the damn virus.

Kafka had always been friendly and easygoing, the perfect himbo. But since the battle with Kajiu No. 8, Soshiro found Kafka's gaze lingering on him for longer than necessary. There was something new in Kafka's eyes, a flicker of curiosity and interest that hadn't been there before.

Soshiro tried to ignore it, to tell himself it was just his imagination. But he couldn't deny the slight heat in his cheeks whenever he met Kafka's gaze.

During training sessions, he would catch Kafka watching him from the corner of his eye. He would pretend not to notice, focusing on his own drills and techniques. But he could feel Kafka's eyes on him, studying every move he made.

It was unsettling and thrilling at the same time. He wasn't used to being the object of someone's attention like this, least of all from someone as unapologetically cheerful as Kafka.

After training, Kafka would linger near Soshiro, striking up conversations and asking questions. It seemed harmless enough at first, but Soshiro couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Kafka's inquisitiveness than mere curiosity.

Kafka's eyes would light up whenever he spoke to Soshiro, and he would listen intently to every word he said. It was almost unnerving how much Kafka seemed to hang on his every sentence.

But it wasn't just the conversations that were different. Kafka had begun to touch him in ways he hadn't before. A friendly pat on the back, a playfully rough nudge, a casual hand on his shoulder. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Soshiro couldn't help noting how Kafka's touches lasted just a fraction longer than they should have.

He found himself both irritated and intrigued by Kafka's increased physical contact. Part of him wanted to push Kafka away, to tell him to keep his hands to himself. But there was another part, a deeper, more vulnerable part, that secretly longed for more of those touches.

Some nights, he'd lie awake in his bunk, picturing Kafka's hands on his skin. He'd imagine the feel of those strong, muscular arms around him, the warmth of that broad chest pressed against his back. It was a foolish, dangerous fantasy, but he couldn't shake it.

During their downtime, Kafka would seek him out, sitting next to him on the couch or joining his table in the mess hall. He would crack jokes and tease him, always trying to get him to smile. And damn it, Soshiro found himself smiling despite his best efforts to remain stoic.

Kafka had a way of knocking down his defenses, and Soshiro hated how much he was enjoying it. He wanted to maintain his usual cool demeanor, but every time Kafka looked at him with that stupid, infectious grin, he found his tough exterior crumbling just a little more.

And then there were the compliments. Kafka showered him with praise, telling him he was strong, smart, and talented. And the worst part was, Soshiro believed him. He had always prided himself on his skills and intellect, but coming from Kafka, the praise felt more genuine, more meaningful.

It felt like he was being acknowledged in a way that even the captain had never done before.

Soshiro found himself craving Kafka's words of affirmation like a drug. He would replay their conversations over and over in his head, latching onto every compliment and kind word. It was pathetic, and he knew it. But he couldn't help the little thrill that went through him whenever Kafka spoke to him with that earnest, admiring expression.

And through it all, Soshiro tried to maintain his self-image. He didn't want Kafka to know how he was affecting him, how his words and touches were getting under his skin. He tried to brush off Kafka's compliments like they didn’t mean a thing.

But Kafka was surprisingly perceptive, and he could tell that Soshiro was flustered. He would smirk and laugh, his eyes shining with amusement as he continued to tease and prod.

During missions, Soshiro found himself watching Kafka closely. He would keep an eye on him, making sure he stayed safe and out of danger. He told himself it was just tactical thinking, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

Maybe that was why when Kafka rushed forward during the fight with Kaiju no. 10, Soshiro felt like a fool. Because he'd had his suspicions that something was up with him, but it had all been overshadowed by his schoolgirl crush.

He had let himself get distracted by Kafka's charm and carefree personality. He had let himself get too caught up in their banter and their growing closeness. He had forgotten, even for a moment, that Kafka was still a reckless fool, that he would always be the first to rush into danger without thinking.

But he would have never dreamed that Kafka was kaiju no. 8.

The revelation hit Soshiro like a punch to the gut. All the pieces fell into place — Kafka's strength, the way he never seemed to get tired or hurt during training, and his uncanny ability to heal quickly from any wound.

It was all because he was a monster. A hideous, deformed creature gallivanting around as if he was still a normal human. And yet...and yet...Soshiro couldn't bring himself to hate him.

Because Kafka may be a kaiju, but he was none of those things. He had always been kind to everyone around him, offering a smile and a helping hand even to those who didn't deserve it. He was the glue that held the team together, the one everyone looked up to and depended on even when he wasn’t the strongest - though clearly, that was to hide how strong he truly could be.

How could Soshiro despise a person like that? How could he hate someone who exuded so much warmth and compassion?

It was all so damn confusing. On one hand, he was disgusted by the fact that Kafka was a kaiju, a literal threat to humanity. But on the other hand, he couldn't help but be drawn to him, to the part that was kind and brave and beautiful.

It was a maddening contradiction, a war between his logical mind and his rapidly beating heart.

Soshiro found himself torn between his duty and his feelings. He was supposed to eliminate the threat posed by Kafka. He was supposed to be rational, objective, and impersonal. But how could he do that when the man he was supposed to kill was also the man he was falling for?

It didn't help that even when transformed, Kafka’s perfect smile twisted into jagged teeth, he still felt his heart stutter and his gut twist. He still wanted Kafka, whether he was a kaiju or not.

It was insane, but that just made the whole thing more unbearable. Despite the terrifying transformation, despite the monstrous appearance, Soshiro still wanted him. He wanted to touch his cold skin, to feel those strong muscles under his hands.

What kind of masochist would fall in love with a creature like that? Apparently, he was one.

Mina had fought to keep him with the third division, using every connection she had and pulling every string at her disposal until the higher-ups caved in. Kafka had been carted away like a villain even after saving everyone. 

Capturing a kaiju had never felt so wrong.

Soshiro cornered him in his quarters after the dust had settled, it was separated from the rest of the division and guarded. If it weren't for his rank as vice-captain he wouldn't have been able to get in.

"Was everything you did a diversion to keep me from figuring out it was you that I fought? Did you mean anything that you said to me?" The words spilled from him like a poison and he hated it - hated how his voice sounded so angry but so vulnerable.

Kafka stood there, looking like a deer in headlights. His eyes darted around the room as Soshiro stepped closer. He wasn't used to this version of the vice captain - angry, vulnerable, desperate.

"I..." he started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. "What do you mean?"

It was a weak attempt to play innocent, but they both knew it was pointless.

Soshiro took another step forward, closing the space between them. 

"Don't play dumb," he hissed. 

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. The training, the banter, everything. Was it all just an act? An elaborate plan to keep me distracted, to keep me from sensing what you really are?"

Kafka swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He couldn't deny it - he had been playing a role, keeping up a facade to hide his true nature. But it wasn't all a lie.

"No," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Not all of it. I mean, yes, I was trying to keep you distracted. But that doesn't mean everything else was a lie. I do care about you, Soshiro. I really do."

Soshiro felt a pang in his heart at those words. He wanted to believe Kafka, more than anything. But the rational part of him was still struggling, still trying to find a way to deny the truth.

"How can I believe you?" he said, his voice almost a whisper. "You're a kaiju. You're the enemy. You're..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

He was everything Soshiro wanted but didn't know how to take.

Kafka took a step closer, closing the last of the space between them. He was close enough now that Soshiro could feel his cold breath on his face.

"I know it's hard to believe," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't blame you. But I swear, everything I said, everything I did - it was all real. I meant every word."

He reached out a hand, hesitantly, the claws of his fingertips barely brushing against the fabric of Soshiro's uniform.

Soshiro shivered at the touch. The coldness of Kafka's claws against his skin was a stark contrast to the fire that was roaring inside him. He wanted to pull away, to put a safe distance between them.

But his body wouldn't listen. Instead, he found himself leaning into the touch, his own hand coming up to gently grip Kafka's wrist.

"You're a fucking kaiju - a himbo kaiju with a stupid smile and I can't stand you," He growled out, but even he couldn't deny the longing in his voice, and the hurt at being deceived. But god, he still wanted him despite it all. 

Kafka's eyes widened in surprise at the growled confession. He was used to being called stupid, a carefree idiot, but there was something different about the way Soshiro said it.

He could hear the pain behind the anger in his voice, the frustration and hurt that he was trying to push down. And it made him want to take a step back, to give Soshiro some space.

But then Soshiro's grip on his wrist tightened, and he found himself frozen to the spot.

"I know," Kafka murmured. "I know it's messed up. I know I'm everything you shouldn't want. But I still..."

He trailed off, his gaze flicking down to where Soshiro's hand was still gripping his wrist. He could feel the warmth of Soshiro's touch, and it was simultaneously soothing and maddening.

"I didn't seek you out to distract you. I wanted to talk with you, to get to know you. And not just because of this..." He gestured at himself, the scales and claws and monstrous features that made up his kaiju form.

Soshiro frowned, his eyebrows pinched together even as his heart still hammered in his chest. He couldn't have predicted the way heat would curl in his gut as he looked over Kafka as he gestured at himself. Each feature was deadly, a genetic combat design meant to outlive and kill. It really shouldn't have turned Soshiro on, but it did, and that only irritated him more.

Kafka noticed the way Soshiro's eyes skimmed over his form, his expression shifting from anger to something else. He could see the desire hidden in those eyes, the conflicting emotions, the struggle between duty and emotions.

He took a breath, the action more to steady himself than anything. He knew that Soshiro was struggling, and he wanted to give him some space to process it all.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he said, his voice softer now. "I never wanted to lie to you or hurt you."

Soshiro scoffed. "We weren't anything anyways - idle conversation and lingering hands don't constitute a relationship," he said, licking his bottom lip, eyes unable to look away from the curve of Kafka's teeth, the way the pointed tip of his tongue peeked out with each word.

Kafka swallowed, the sight of Soshiro's tongue on his lip sending a jolt through him. He couldn't tear his eyes away either, the need to move closer to Soshiro becoming stronger with each passing second.

He didn't like how dismissive, how cold Soshiro's words were. But he could understand the anger and hurt behind them.

"It was more than that," he said, unable to keep the hint of pleading out of his voice. "It was more than just conversation and touches."

Soshiro let out a low growl, his grip on Kafka's wrist tightening again. He couldn't deny that he felt the same, that there had been something between them, something more than just passing interest and his little crush.

But he couldn't just forget everything, couldn't just accept what Kafka was. He was supposed to be a soldier, a protector, someone who killed monsters like him.

"How can you say that?" he hissed. "You're not human. I can't want you ."

"But you do, don't you?" Kafka asked, voice hesitant but wanting.

He'd enjoyed the vice-captain's company and had loved watching how he reacted to each little interaction. And maybe his interest had really only been piqued further after Soshiro had tried to kill him despite not knowing it was him. But it was genuine want, and not something configured out of the need to hide his identity.

The fire he'd seen in Soshiro's eyes had drawn him in, even when he was dodging to save himself. He'd been deadly and beautiful in a way Kafka knew he could never be, he was all brute strength and rash decisions made out of good intentions.

Soshiro was purposeful, each movement and action had a reason. And Kafka had started taking more interest in him with that same intent in mind, that it was meaningful and with purpose - it wasn't nothing.

Soshiro gritted his teeth, the truth in Kafka's words hitting him hard. He couldn't deny it, as much as he wanted to. He had wanted Kafka, more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

He was handsome, strong, and kind, even with his monstrous exterior. And Soshiro was tired of denying the attraction he felt, tired of hiding behind his duties and responsibilities.

"Damn it," he muttered, his grip on Kafka's wrist loosening. "I do. I do want you."

Kafka could hear the vulnerability in Soshiro's voice, the way his tough exterior was cracking. He could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between desire and duty.

He took a step closer, closing the already small space between them. He wanted to reach out, to touch him, to soothe away the anger and pain. But he knew Soshiro needed time, space to process everything.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry for lying to you, for hiding this from you. But I'm not sorry for wanting you."

Soshiro's eyes closed involuntarily, the touch of Kafka's hand sending a jolt through him. He felt the cold roughness of his scales against his skin and the sharp edge of his claws, but it didn't scare him anymore.

He should've been repulsed by it, should've pushed him away. But instead, he found himself leaning into the touch, the warmth of Kafka's touch outweighing his fear.

"You idiot," he mumbled, turning his head slightly to press a kiss against Kafka's palm.

Kafka let out a shaky exhale at the feeling of Soshiro's lips against his palm. His heart was racing, and he had to fight the urge to pull Soshiro closer, to press against him and claim those lips with his own.

He wanted to kiss Soshiro, to feel that fire that he'd seen in him firsthand, but he held himself back, waiting for Soshiro to make the next move. This was his choice, not Kafka's.

Soshiro wasn't sure how to go about this, not with Kafka's mouth a cavern of sharp teeth, but he wasn't a quitter. He reached up, fingers pressing at the corners of Kafka's mouth. 

His mouth opened slightly on reflex at Soshiro's touch, and he closed his eyes, allowing the fingers to explore as they pleased.

The feeling of Soshiro's fingers on his teeth, tracing over them, was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Kafka could feel his breath hitching in his chest, drool pooling in his mouth and swallowed it, tongue brushing across Soshiro's fingers.

Soshiro couldn't tear his eyes away from Kafka's mouth, watching the way his tongue moved against his fingers. The heat inside him only grew hotter, the feeling unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He wanted to taste those teeth, to feel the sharp points against his lips and tongue.

He slowly traced his fingers across Kafka's jaw, feeling the roughness of his armored skin and the smoothness of his flesh. He could feel Kafka's pulse under his fingers, fast and strong, matching his own.

Kafka could feel himself trembling under Soshiro's touch, his senses overwhelmed by the sensations. He could feel the heat of Soshiro's body, the scent of him - a strange, heady mix of sweat and cologne - filling his nostrils, and the sound of his heartbeat loud in his ears.

He couldn't help but lean into the touch, his mouth parted and his tongue tracing the lines of Soshiro's fingers. He wanted more, more of this, this tenderness mixed with carnal desire.

Soshiro's breath hitched as Kafka's tongue traced his fingers, the sight and feeling more arousing than he wanted to admit. But now, seeing him like this, vulnerable and wanting, half transformed and so deadly but melting in his hands like butter. It was a whole new level of attraction.

"Kafka," he murmured, pushing his fingers deeper into Kafka's mouth. "I... I want..."

Kafka's eyes fluttered open at Soshiro's words, a quiet moan escaping him, muffled by the fingers in his parted mouth. 

He understood what Soshiro was trying to say, and he wanted it too, more than ever. The desire that had been stirring inside him for so long was burning now, a fire that threatened to consume him whole.

He let Soshiro's fingers push in further, his tongue swirling around them, his grip on Soshiro's wrist tightening.

Soshiro cursed softly, the low moan coming from Kafka only serving to fuel the fire inside him. He could feel Kafka's tongue wrapping around his fingers, cool and wet, and he wished it was somewhere else, somewhere he could feel that tongue and those dangerous teeth.

He leaned in closer, his free hand coming up to cup the back of Kafka's neck, pulling him down till their foreheads were nearly touching.

Soshiro's hand on the back of his neck sent a shiver down his spine. He could feel Soshiro's breath against his skin, hot and uneven, and he wanted desperately to close the last bit of space between them.

His tongue continued to swirl around Soshiro's fingers, the tip brushing against the sensitive skin between his knuckles. It could reach so much farther if he just let it.

Soshiro groaned, his grip on Kafka's neck tightening as he felt the tip of his tongue flick against his fingers. He couldn't think straight, his mind filled with images of Kafka's mouth on his skin, his teeth nicking at his flesh, his claws leaving scratches on his body.

"Kafka," he repeated, his voice raspier than before. "I... I want to taste you."

Kafka could feel the want and need in Soshiro's voice, the raw hunger that mirrored his own. His breath hitched, and he nodded, his tongue still working around Soshiro's fingers.

He wanted to taste him too, to feel Soshiro's mouth on his, those blunt human teeth against his sharper fangs. He wanted to devour him.

Soshiro slowly pulled his fingers out of Kafka's mouth, a string of saliva clinging to them before breaking. His gaze fell on those dangerous lips, the sharp teeth behind them, and the heat inside him flared up hotter.

Without a second thought, he lifted his fingers to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste Kafka on his skin. His eyes fluttered shut, a low moan leaving him as he savored the taste.

Kafka watched as Soshiro tasted him, his eyes widening as Soshiro's expression changed. He could see the pleasure on Soshiro's face, hear the moans spilling from his lips.

It was a sight that sent a bolt of heat right through him, and he wanted more, more of that expression, more of those sounds.

He leaned down, his muzzle brushing against Soshiro's ear, his breath hot and heavy. "Do you like it?" he whispered, his voice deep and rough. "Tasting me."

Soshiro's eyes flickered open at Kafka's whisper in his ear, the shiver running down his spine a mixture of fear and arousal. He nodded, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in his mouth.

"Yeah," he breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I like it."  

He wanted more, he craved to taste more of him, to feel those dangerous teeth and tongue against his skin. "I want more."

Kafka's heart skipped a beat at the desire in Soshiro's voice, at the way he said he wanted more. 

He pulled back a fraction, his gaze roaming over Soshiro's face, taking in the flush across his cheeks, the way his chest rose and fell with each quick breath.

His hand rose, the edge of a talon tracing the line of Soshiro's jaw, the action gentle despite his appearance. "More, huh?" he murmured. "If you want that, I can give it to you."

Soshiro swallowed again, his eyes locked with Kafka's, feeling his cock harden at the feeling of the kaiju’s claw upon his skin, "I..."

He could barely form words, his mind and body overwhelmed by the mixture of fear and arousal. He wanted Kafka, wanted to feel those teeth and claws on his skin, even though he knew the danger - the possibility of being torn apart or devoured. There was no way of telling how much of him was human anymore.

But he didn't care, the need to feel that mouth on him overriding any logical thought. "Do it," he breathed out.

Kafka's eyes widened slightly at Soshiro's words, the raw need in his voice sending a jolt through him. He had never thought he would hear such pleading from someone like Soshiro, and it only heightened his own desire.

Slowly, he brought his other hand up, gently cupping Soshiro's face with his claws. He leaned in closer, his muzzle barely an inch away from Soshiro's lips.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, his breath warm against Soshiro's skin. "I can transform back?"

Soshiro glared with lust-addled eyes, "Don't you fucking dare."

Kafka's breath caught in his throat at Soshiro's response, the raw desire and determination in his eyes sending a thrill through him. He hadn't expected that, hadn't thought that Soshiro would be so insistent on him staying in his half-transformed state, but it only made him want him more.

He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest, "You're a kinky one, vice-captain."

Soshiro scowled at the comment, the blush spreading further on his cheeks. "Shut up," he muttered, unable to deny the accusation. 

He wanted Kafka like this, wanted to feel that wild, untamed aspect of him. He couldn't explain why, it turned him on and he couldn't find it in himself to resist that temptation.

Kafka let out another low chuckle, the sound both amused and aroused. "Oh, I will shut up," he said, his voice a low growl. His claws ghosted over Soshiro's exposed neck.

"Or better yet, you can shut me up," he continued, his fingers wrapping around Soshiro's jaw, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. 

Soshiro huffed, not wanting to give in so easily, but his body betrayed him. His lips parted slightly as Kafka's fingers tightened, his breath hitching at the possessive grip on his jaw.

He let out a shaky exhale, meeting Kafka's gaze with a hint of defiance in his eyes. "And how do you suggest I do that?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Kafka could feel his cock getting hard, the plated scales shifting as it nudged forward. "I can think of a couple of ways," he said, tongue licking across Soshiro's mouth before parting his lips and pushing in.

Soshiro's eyes widened at the touch of Kafka's tongue, a sharp gasp leaving him as it pushed past his lips. His body shuddered, caught between fear and excitement. Kafka's tongue felt too big in his mouth, and Soshiro panted around it, feeling sharp teeth pressed along his mouth and jaw. 

His arms came up on instinct, gripping onto Kafka's upper arms, fingers digging into the scales as he kissed him back. It was dangerous, but he couldn't get enough, wanting to feel more.

Kafka groaned as he took control of the kiss, his tongue exploring the heat of Soshiro's mouth. He could feel the sharpness of his own teeth against the Vice-Captain's soft palate, and he tried to be gentle, but there was only so much he could do with Soshiro squirming against him and pushing for more.

He pushed Soshiro back against the wall, pinning him there with his body, their hips pressed together and his claws digging into the wall. He'd get yelled at for that later, but he didn't care.

He moved his mouth to Soshiro's neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin. He could feel the pulse under his tongue, fast and strong, and he nipped at it, just enough to leave a mark.

"You're so goddamn tempting like this," he growled, his teeth grazing against Soshiro's ear.

Soshiro couldn't respond, all he could do was gasp and moan in response to Kafka's touch, his body going weak under the onslaught. 

He could feel every bite and nibble, every mark Kafka left on him, and it only added to his own arousal. He pushed his body closer, desperately seeking more friction, more of that sharp edge against his skin.

Kafka could feel how hard Soshiro was getting from this, the way he was rutting against his thigh. It only made him want more. He needed to hear more of those moans, to see that flushed face and those half-lidded eyes. 

He moved his thigh, grinding it against Soshiro, his hands moving down to grip his hips and keep them tight against him.

Soshiro arched against him, a strangled gasp leaving his lips as he ground against him. His hands gripped tightly onto Kafka's arms, his nails scratching futilely along armored skin.

The sound of Soshiro's gasp was like music to Kafka's ears, the feeling of his nails against him only spurring him on.

He moved his mouth again, biting and licking at the sensitive skin of Soshiro's neck, his tongue tracing down to his collarbone, leaving a trail of sharp teeth marks.

Soshiro couldn't take it, he needed more. Each scrape of Kafka's teeth along his skin only made him harder and grinding could only accomplish so much. 

"Kafka," he moaned.

Kafka heard his name, moaned out in a voice so raw and needy, and he couldn't help the low growl that escaped him. 

He pulled back, looking down at Soshiro, the way he was flushed and panting against him, and it made his need spike even higher.

"What do you want, Soshiro?" he asked, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble, his grip on Soshiro's hips tightening.

"If you don't stop treating me like some dainty princess, I'm going to lose my cool," He said, breath coming out in pants as he pressed himself down on Kafka's thigh.

Kafka chuckled, the sound dark and amused. "Dainty princess, huh? That's not you at all," he said, his thigh still rubbing up against Soshiro's hardening length.

He leaned down, a smirk on his lips, and nipped at Soshiro's earlobe. "I'm perfectly aware of what you can take. How vicious you can be."

He pulled back again to take in the sight of Soshiro, the way he was desperately trying to hold onto his composure. "But right now, you're coming apart so nicely." 

Kafka pushed his thigh harder against him, the pressure making Soshiro gasp and arch his back.

"Look at you, Vice-Captain," Kafka continued, his voice dropping. "Moaning and writhing under me like a desperate mess."

He leaned in, his breath hot against Soshiro's ear. "And we've only just started."

Soshiro moaned again, the sound a mixture of frustration and pleasure. He couldn't deny that Kafka's words sent a shiver down his spine, that the pressure against him was only building the need inside him.

"Shut up..." he panted, "And finish what you've started."

Kafka chuckled, he loved it when Soshiro got demanding. 

He pushed harder against Soshiro, his thigh rubbing his cock where it leaked against his pants, and he leaned down, his mouth moving along Soshiro's jaw, his teeth grazing against sensitive skin.

 "Is that an order?" he asked, a smirk in his voice.

Soshiro could hardly think straight anymore, his mind fuzzy from the feeling of Kafka against him, his body burning with need. 

"Yes," he managed to gasp out, pushing himself down against him, desperate for more pressure, more friction.

Kafka hummed, the sound a low and pleased growl. "Good," he said, "I always did like it when you get bossy."

He shifted, moving so that Soshiro was pressed more firmly between him and the wall. His mouth moved back to Soshiro's neck, his tongue tracing a path to his collarbone and his claws ripped into the fabric and tore it from his skin.

Soshiro gasped, the sound caught in his throat as Kafka's tongue and teeth moved across his skin, and flicked over one of his nipples. The cool air hitting his exposed skin made him shiver but it was lost in the heat and sensation of Kafka against him.

He rocked against him, seeking out more, hands moving down and fumbling to undo his pants button. 

Kafka watched as Soshiro fumbled with his pants, a smirk on his face, and he let out a low growl. "Impatient, aren't you?" he murmured, leaning down to nibble at the shell of Soshiro's ear.

He pushed his thigh up, giving Soshiro the friction he was desperate for, his claws raking along his sides and leaving red marks, careful to not go deeper.

Soshiro couldn't even form words anymore, all he could do was moan and gasp as he rocked against Kafka desperately. The friction from Kafka's thigh was exquisite and the scratch of his claws only heightened it, leaving his mind a fuzzy mess. 

"Please..." he finally managed to gasp out, "I need more, Kafka, please..."

Kafka's smirk grew wider at the sound of Soshiro's pleading, the desperation in his voice making his own need flare higher. 

He took a moment to pull back, eyes roaming over Soshiro's flushed and panting form, his pants now open and clinging to his hips. 

"Oh, I'll give you more," he said, voice like gravel, "But you're going to have to be more specific, Vice-Captain."

Soshiro groaned, his head thudding back against the wall as he tried to get his mind to work through the fog of desire. "Use that fucking tongue of yours and stop teasing me!" It came out as a whine, his body arching and writhing against Kafka's thigh. 

Kafka's smirk morphed into a feral grin, a low rumble in his chest. "So demanding," he murmured, hands moving to lift Soshiro by his hips, it was so easy when half-transformed.

Soshiro let out a gasp as he was lifted, the show of strength sending a thrill through him. His legs wrapped around Kafka's waist on instinct, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He stared down at Kafka, breath coming out in quick gasps. "When you tease me like this," he panted, "Damn right I'm demanding."

Kafka chuckled, face flushed with arousal. There was only a tiny bed meant for his human form, a desk, and a dresser. He'd make do with it.

He carried Soshiro to the bed and laid him down, caging him in, "Are you sure you only want my tongue?"

Soshiro let out a shaky exhale as he was laid down, eyes wide as he looked up at Kafka. The proximity and the way he was caged in only served to heighten his arousal, his body already trembling.

He stared up at Kafka, a flush spreading across his cheeks, and before he could speak, claw-tipped fingers were tugging his pants and boxers down his legs.

"I take that as a yes," Kafka purred.

He shifted, moving to kneel between Soshiro's legs spreading them further apart. As he leaned down, his mouth moved down to his inner thighs, tongue moving over sensitive, pale skin. 

He could feel the way Soshiro's muscles trembled under his touch, the way he gasped and writhed as he inched closer and closer to his hard cock where pearlescent white dotted the tip and dribbled down the head.

Soshiro's body quivered under the touch of his tongue. He couldn't help the sounds that escaped him, small gasps and moans, as he felt Kafka's breath teasingly near his aching cock.

"Kafka," he groaned, his voice strained from trying to hold back, "Please, please..." 

His fingers tangled in the sheets, desperate for something to anchor himself.

Kafka pressed closer, mouth just above Soshiro's leaking cock, his tongue flicking out to lap at the salty drops. 

"Gods, you're desperate," he panted against him, his own breath coming out in harsh gasps. His claws dug into the sheets next to Soshiro's waist, holding on tightly.

"Shut up," Soshiro gasped out, face flushed and breath coming out in ragged pants. His legs spread wider on instinct, hips arching up against Kafka's mouth. "And put that damn tongue to better use."

Kafka chuckled, the sound dark and rumbling, as he looked up at Soshiro. The sight of him flushed and trembling before him was delicious, and he wanted to see more of it. 

"As you command," Kafka's hands slid under Soshiro's thighs, lifting him to his mouth. His teeth grazed along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs as his tongue pushed forward, long and furling as it pressed to his ass.

Soshiro's gasp turned into a strangled cry as Kafka's tongue pressed against him, and he let out a choked moan, head falling back against the pillow. The wet heat of it was overwhelming, the way it pressed into him and teased him felt too good. His fingers tightened in the sheets, knuckles going white from the grip.

Kafka groaned as he took a shaky breath in, his face pressed between Soshiro's thighs and his tongue delving deeper into him. The taste and the sounds he was making were driving him insane, making his own need almost painful.

His hands spread Soshiro's legs wider, claws pressing into the flesh of his thighs, and he worked his tongue in a steady rhythm, making sure to hit all the right spots that had his hips shaking and cock leaking.

Soshiro was writhing and gasping, his body trembling under Kafka's touch. Kafka could feel each shiver, each gasp and moan, and it only spurred him on, his tongue delving deeper, stretching and teasing.

His own body was tense, his own need straining against the rough fabric of his clothes. He wanted more, wanted to hear more of those sounds from Soshiro, and he wasn't holding back anymore.

He pulled back a fraction, just enough to look up at Soshiro, chest heaving and breath coming out in pants. "You still demanding, Vice-Captain?" he rasped out, voice rough and heated.

His tongue flicked out, teasing against Soshiro's entrance, his grip on his thighs tight enough to leave marks.

Soshiro groaned, his head tossing back and forth restlessly against the pillow. He was trembling, body flushed and sensitive, on the edge of losing his mind from the feel of Kafka's tongue against him. 

"Shut up," he gasped, a strained, needy whine, "And keep going."

Kafka chuckled, the sound low and satisfied as he leaned back in, his tongue pushing back into him with an almost feral fervor. He could feel how close Soshiro was, how desperately he wanted release, and he was all too happy to tease it out of him.

"So demanding," he purred, pulling back just long enough to speak, his breath hot against Soshiro's skin, "But I like you like this."

Soshiro cursed at the feeling of Kafka's tongue, his body arching up against him. He was close, so close, and the way Kafka was talking, the way his voice was like gravel, was driving him insane.

"Just stop teasing me," he gasped out, "I need... I need..." He cut himself off, biting down on his lip to muffle the desperate, needy sound that escaped him.

Kafka could feel how close Soshiro was, how his body was quivering and tensing, and it made him want to bring him over the edge.

He pulled back long enough to say, "What do you need, Vice-Captain? Use your words," before diving back in, his tongue working faster, deeper, determined to push him over the edge.

Soshiro couldn't think, couldn't form words, all he could do was gasp and whine and moan as Kafka pushed him further and further towards the edge. 

"Please," he finally gasped out, "Please, Kafka, I need... I'm so close..." His body was tense, every muscle pulled tight, and he was on the verge of snapping.

Kafka didn't hold back at that, his tongue working with a single-minded focus to push Soshiro over the brink. He could tell from the way he was trembling and tensing that he was close, desperately close, and Kafka was determined to push him over.

When he felt Soshiro finally tumble over, body arching up with a strangled cry as come spurted onto his stomach, he didn't stop. He continued to work his tongue, riding him through the aftershocks, not giving him a moment's respite as he pushed him towards oversensitivity.

Soshiro was a trembling, panting mess by the time Kafka finally pulled back, his body oversensitive and his mind fuzzy. He could feel the sweat running down his skin, his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing coming out in harsh gasps.

Kafka leaned back, admiring the sight of Soshiro, flushed and shivering, and his eyes roved over him hungrily. "Gods, you look beautiful like this," he said, his voice a low rumble.

He moved to shift, leaning over him, his body caging him in. 

Soshiro could feel Kafka's cock pressed against his thigh, solid and warm, the tip smearing pre across his skin. His stomach dipped with arousal, his body still feeling like a live wire.

Kafka groaned as he pressed himself against Soshiro, the friction sending a wave of pleasure through him. He looked down at him, at the way he was biting his lip, his body still quivering and flushed.

"You're so damn pretty like this," he growled, his voice thick with desire. His hands moved to Soshiro's waist, claws digging into his skin, and he leaned in to bury his face in the crook of his neck.

Soshiro's breath hitched as he felt Kafka's lips and teeth against his neck, the sting of his claws making him shiver. He could feel Kafka's own need, the way his hips rocked against his thigh, and it made him want more.

"Kafka," he panted, his voice pleading.

The sound of Soshiro's voice made his gut coil with a hot, liquid need.

He bit down on Soshiro's neck, just hard enough to leave a mark, and he pulled back to look down at him. His hands moved down to grip his thighs, one hand trailing down to press a claw-tipped finger carefully into his hole and he pulled, feeling the relaxed give of it. He moaned, tongue licking across his teeth. Kafka spread his legs wider to fit his large frame, his cock nudging against Soshiro's ass.

Soshiro's head leaned forward, looking at Kafka hungrily, his spent cock twitching valiantly.

Kafka's cock was long and thick, with ridges along the side, standard with his kaiju biology. It made Soshiro's head feel light, his heart thundering in his chest. He wanted it in him. He had no idea how it would fit, but he wanted it.

Kafka's hand moved over Soshiro's body like he owned it. His fingers curled over his hip and claws traced across his abs, up to his chest where he squeezed, drawing a soft gasp from his lips.

"You look so tiny like this," Kafka whispered like a prayer, his cock twitching against him.

"I'm pretty sure I could break you," Kafka said, voice deep with a growl as the tip of his cock nudged his entrance.

Soshiro's breath hitched as he felt Kafka's cock. His eyes were dark and dilated with desire as he stared up at Kafka.

"You're not breaking me," he retorted, but there was no heat behind the words, just a desperate need. His hands tightened against the sheets, feeling the cool of the fabric against his skin.

"And I'm not tiny," he glared, the way he said it more of a plea than a protest.

Kafka chuckled at the pout on Soshiro's face, the way he was trying to sound defiant even as he trembled with desire.

He leaned down, his body pressing closer, his lips moving to brush against the shell of his ear. "You're tiny compared to me," he murmured, his breath hot against his skin. His hand moved to grip his hip, claws digging in. "So small, so delicate."

Kafka pressed the head of his cock in, slick with pre and the saliva from him eating him out. Soshiro moaned, biting his lip, body tensing up without him meaning to.

Kafka squeezed his hips and he let out a pathetic whine, knowing there would be marks.

"Relax, Soshiro."

Soshiro tried to relax, to let the tension loosen from his body, but it was hard. His body was sensitive, his mind still hazy with pleasure from earlier, and with Kafka pressed so close, it was hard to think.

He took a deep breath, feeling the stretch as Kafka pressed in further, and a mix of pleasure and pain washed over him. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, and his body was so hot from the stretch.

"You look so good like this, all flushed and trembling." Kafka's voice was ragged, raw, and hot in his ear, and it wasn't helping Soshiro relax.

He tried to untense his body, to let himself loosen, but it was hard. Every nerve felt sensitive like every touch was too much, and he wanted more.

"Kafka, it feels-" He cut himself off with a strangled gasp, clenching down on him.

"Gods, you're tight," Kafka gasped out, holding himself back from letting loose. His claws were digging into Soshiro's hips, leaving red marks in their wake, and he could feel every twitch and tremble of his body.

He was being so careful, trying to go slow and gentle, but it was hard to stop his hips from twitching forward into Soshiro. 

Soshiro couldn't speak, couldn't form words, all he could do was cling to Kafka, his hands moving to grip his arms. His body was a mixture of sensations, too much and not enough all at once.

"Move," he managed to gasp out. "Kafka, move," He demanded in one rushed exhale as he felt pain spike up his insides and pleasure unfurl in his gut, warm and heavy.

Kafka's breath hitched at the sound of Soshiro's voice, all wrecked and needy, and it sent a shudder through him. He wanted to give him what he wanted, to give him everything, he deserved nothing less.

He couldn't hold back any longer.

With a rough growl, he pulled back and slammed back in, unable to hold back the pace he set as his control began to unravel.

Soshiro's breath caught in his throat, a sound between a gasp and a cry escaping him as Kafka slammed back into him. His body arched up to meet it, his legs spreading instinctively and his fingers dug in.

The pain and pleasure mingled together, creating a feeling like lightning coursing through him with every movement.

"Soshiro," Kafka panted, "So perfect, so good."

His pace was brutal, almost feral as he pounded into him, any semblance of control gone. He was chasing his own pleasure and watching Soshiro come undone under him, crying out and shaking with every snap of his hips.

"You feel so good," he growled, voice deep and rough with desire.

Soshiro bounced across the mattress with each thrust, the bed squeaking beneath them as Kafka pulled him back against him. He couldn't help but think Kafka looked like a dog that had just been given a treat, blissed out and caring only for the meal in front of him as he took and took.

Kafka's body was taut, muscles coiled as he moved. He looked down at Soshiro, eyes dilated with lust, watching the way he trembled and groaned under him. He was beautiful, fucked out, and pliant in his hands as his body relaxed more and more with each thrust of his hips.

"You look so good," he panted, "So sensitive and responsive."

He changed the angle of his hips and he felt it when he hit the right spot, watching as Soshiro let out a strangled moan, body tensing around him.

He kept up the pace, hitting that spot with every thrust, driving Soshiro further and further toward the edge. He couldn't get enough of him, wanted more, needed more.

Soshiro was a mess, his body trembling, his mind hazy and pleasure fogging over his thoughts as he was pounded into the mattress. He could feel his climax building and building, pressure building in his gut, hot and tight.

Kafka's moan rumbled through him as his eyes gazed over Soshiro greedily, focusing on the soft bulge of his lower stomach with each push of his cock into him. His cock pulsed at the sight and he pressed a hand over it, moaning at the feeling. 

Soshiro gasped wetly beneath him, drool dribbling down his chin, his eyes rolled back as he begged, "I'm close, so close, Kafka, please!"

Kafka's body was thrumming with need, his own climax growing closer. He leaned down, scraping his teeth across his nipples, tongue flicking out to lick at them as he moved from side to side.

Soshiro clenched around Kafka's cock, body trembling as a punched-out moan left him and his cock spilled between them, coating their skin creamy white.

Kafka's movements stuttered at the sudden clenching, a strangled moan leaving him.

Soshiro's breath was coming out in ragged bursts as he came down from his orgasm, body trembling and oversensitive. Kafka's hands were gripping him tightly, claws digging in. He could feel him shaking, his body taut as he chased his release.

"Please," Soshiro whined, feeling Kafka shuddering above him, struggling to hold himself together. "Kafka-"

"Soshiro," Kafka gasped out, his voice little more than a deep, rumbling growl. He was on the edge, so unbelievably close. "Just hold on, just a little longer-"

Soshiro could feel how close Kafka was, the way he was shaking, trembling above him. He tightened his legs around Kafka's hips, trying to pull him closer, urging him on.

"Soshiro," Kafka groaned, the sound coming out as a strangled whimper. He could feel himself losing control, the pressure in his gut so tight it felt like he was going to snap. "I'm not, gonna, last-,"

"Do it, Kafka," Soshiro gasped out. He was hypersensitive, his body quivering with pleasure, but he wanted it. "Come," he said, voice needy and deep with the command.

And that was all he needed.

Kafka's body arched above him, muscles clenching as he came with a deep, guttural groan. Soshiro could feel him emptying into him, his body trembling as he rode it out.

His breath was coming out in heavy pants as he came down from the high, his body feeling like it was on fire. He collapsed on top of Soshiro, their chests and stomachs pressed closely together with Kafka's cock pressed into him as it pulsed.

They laid there, both of them panting and trembling, their bodies slick with sweat and other fluids. Soshiro could feel Kafka's body weight pressed against him, heavy and hot, and he was too boneless to push him off.

"You okay?" Kafka finally managed to say after a long moment, his voice raspy and deep as he slowly pushed himself up to look at Soshiro. His eyes were big and Soshiro was reminded of how much Kafka was just an overgrown puppy.

"I'm fine," Soshiro rasped, his voice hoarse from use. 

"You're just heavy." He lifted a hand, poking Kafka's side weakly.

Kafka chuckled weakly, shaking his head. "Sorry," he said, moving to pull out slowly and carefully, taking care with Soshiro's oversensitive state. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," Soshiro huffed breathlessly, wincing slightly as Kafka pulled out.

 "Just... Sensitive. Really sensitive." He closed his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths to try and calm down his racing heartbeat.

Kafka smiled softly, watching the way Soshiro's body shivered as he carefully moved away and sat up. He looked completely wrecked, all flushed and bitten and marked up, and Kafka couldn't resist running a hand down his chest and stomach gently.

Soshiro let out a soft gasp, his skin still flushed and sensitive to the touch. He opened his eyes to look at Kafka, unable to help the shiver that ran through him at the way he was looking at him.

There was a small part of him that had hoped a good fucking would make all the feelings he felt for Kafka go away, but his heart still beat erratically just looking at his stupid dopey grin.

"Stop smiling like that," he grumbled annoyed as Kafka looked at him like he was a gift from the gods.

If there was one thing he was certain about after all of this, it was that he still had a lot to figure out about Kafka Hibino, but that could wait. The more important realization was that he'd never be able to see Kafka transformed again without getting hard.

He was maddening.