I don't own this beautiful manga/anime, but damn, if I had a bunch of these sexy Shinigamis running around in my head, I don't think I'd leave. ….*insert joke drum roll here*…*tumbleweed rolls by*.. Ah well. So, Tsuraki, basically. Pretty much, definitely. XDD But even if you don't like yaoi, I think some of the concepts in general are quite accurate to aspects of the story and characters. It's a one-shot, I believe. Although I've no talent for short stories, and I'm not really into sex. XDD But I was inspired to try my hand at a one-shot, slight smut, after reading some rather excellent ones XDDD~ [*many minutes later*] Eh, I was half asleep for the ending. So if it's kinda ehh, don't hate me _ ;__; XD~ Lates~
Tsuzuki had, against his better judgment, come back
Back into the cold, painful embrace of one Kazutaka Muraki, resident doctor, murderer, and enigma.
Tsuzuki didn't love Muraki, nor did Muraki love him despite his sweet words claiming so. Tsuzuki loved Hisoka, the empathic, emerald-eyed Shinigami who looked at Tsuzuki like he was worth something. Like he was more than a monster.
Muraki wanted him because he was a monster.
Tsuzuki thought of Muraki, the pale skin and pale eyes, the hair that seemed like moonlight, silvery and soft. His deep, compelling voice and the things it whispered in his ear late into the night. Muraki had raped Hisoka cruelly under the blood moon, and then let him suffer for years a terrible curse that caused him to die painfully when he was only sixteen. Tsuzuki was betraying his best friend, closest family, and greatest love in coming to Muraki.
But he wasn't betraying himself.
The amethyst-eyed Shinigami would rather betray himself than Hisoka in a heartbeat, but this was different. Muraki was insane, not as Tsuzuki had been, but insane all the same. He was sadistic, sociopathic, and downright twisted. But that aside, Muraki was only a boy fighting against a monster he'd long ago named Saki. The step-brother that had killed his parents and ruined his world. Not that his mother had ever treated Muraki like anything more than a pretty doll. A toy to be petted and the left alone while his father was out betraying them all.
Tsuzuki knew what it was like to be abandoned, to be hated and feared, to be cast aside. And when he'd learned the deeper reasons behind Muraki's crimes, when he'd seen the depths of Muraki's pain…how could he do anything but be sympathetic? How was Tsuzuki any better?
They were a pair of murderers. Of monsters.
Tsuzuki deserved all of the pain Muraki gave him and more, and doubly so for betraying the people he cared about.
Tsuzuki went inside Muraki's apartment and was unsurprised to find that Muraki wasn't nowhere to be seen, meaning he was already in the bedroom. He shuddered at the thought of what was coming, at what Muraki was turning him into. Tsuzuki had never been one for sex, not after he'd 'gone insane' and not before, not when he'd had the memory of his beloved sister's death so fresh on his mind. But, sex with Muraki was a mockery of love-making in form, and an art of love in truth. Muraki laid himself bare during sex, as did Tsuzuki. They were two monsters vulnerable to each other, vulnerable to the world that had abandoned him, vulnerable to pain.
And Muraki adore pain. And thanks to Muraki, Tsuzuki was beginning to as well.
He stepped to Muraki's bedroom and gently pushed the door open, his eyes widening at the sight. The room was covered in black rose petals, and there in the center of the bed was Muraki, looking like a beautiful, tragic angel stained in black petals.
Tsuzuki swallowed hard at the rush of emotion and the stirring in his nether regions that accompanied the vision, hating himself for his reaction and wanting Muraki at the same time. They gave each other what they both needed so desperately.
Acceptance.
They were monsters and they knew it. They were murderers and they knew it. Tsuzuki's life had ended in tragedy and pain and Muraki's was doomed to do so as well. And when he died, Muraki might well go to Hell or end up a Shinigami, forever haunting Tsuzuki and their emerald-eyed boy.
"Mr. Tsuzuki." Muraki's voice was soft, a silken bit of darkness in contrast to his pristine and white appearance. Muraki was bare of clothes except a loose pair of white pants that looked suited for a sheik and yet suited Muraki well. A wolf in sheep's clothing. A devil with angel's wings.
A heart-wrenchingly beautiful monster.
"Muraki." Tsuzuki's own voice, more like chocolate than silk murmured back a reply as he stared at the other and the scattered petals.
Muraki's lips curved into a smile and he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "I promised you a thousand roses, and here they are. Scattered and black. Just like our hearts." he said, and while it sounded almost romantic, morbid poetry, it was an understanding between them. Their hearts were torn, likely irreparably, but not beyond use. Not beyond feeling.
Tsuzuki let his gaze move around all the roses and then back onto Muraki. He let a small smile curve his own lips. "What's the occasion for fulfilling that promise, Muraki?" he asked lightly as he moved forward, slowly undoing his tie and then taking off his shirt, revealing his smooth, lightly toned chest, pale in the bright moonlight from the open window. They were on the second floor, but it wouldn't have mattered even if they were on the first. Muraki would risk his reputation to see his Tsuzuki bathed in the moonlight, pure and yet dark, innocent and yet wicked.
Oh yes, Tsuzuki was childishly innocent in Muraki's mind, and yet, stained with almost as much blood as Muraki was. What a pair they made. An angelic devil and a wicked child.
Muraki gave Tsuzuki a brilliant smile. "Why, Tsuzuki, you didn't think I'd forgotten your birthday, did you?" he chuckled.
Tsuzuki's eyes widened slightly, but he wasn't really surprised. Muraki knew more technical details about him than most people, since Tsuzuki had been a patient of Muraki's grandfather. Back when he'd lain in bed for seven years, alive physically, unable to die thereby, but oh so dead inside. Insanity had been a blessing then.
Tsuzuki had had a party back at the office. Hisoka had gruffly given him a handmade blanket, something that melted Tsuzuki's heart and made him hold the boy close enough that he could smell the strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner lingering in Hisoka's hair, the ones Tsuzuki had bought for him and Hisoka had been so 'embarrassed' over.
But he'd gone to Muraki anyway. He could do nothing less.
"Why are they all black? I thought you were going to give me red roses." Tsuzuki stated as he slid off his pants and shoes, leaving on his boxers as he paused before crawling onto the edge of the bed and watching Muraki.
Muraki's lips curled into a slow, devilishly handsome smile. "Red roses are so easy to get, and to take. The rose is a symbol of many things, love, most prominently. It inspires silly poeticism and heartfelt ramblings about the beauteousness of a lovely-scented weed." Muraki leaned forward, and Tsuzuki obligingly moved till he was kneeling on the bed in front of Muraki, who was sitting with his legs splayed somewhat lazily.
Muraki stroked his fingers against Tsuzuki's smooth cheek. "How can a rose, which withers and dies so quickly, be a symbol of love everlasting? A mere weed that toils for it's superficial beauty only to fade and become more worthless, if possible, than when first it grew? No. For you, my dear Tsuzuki, I offer more. For you, I've let these roses die and turn to black. I've scattered their petals for you. I took the time to let nature take it's course and turn their beauty into something tragic and worthy of you. Red roses are falsehoods covered in pretty scents, like white lies to disguise the truth. Red roses are facades, and so for you, I give you only purity. Only truth. And the truth is, everything dies and turns to black. And by giving you these petals, I give you everything." Muraki said before leaning forward fully and claiming Tsuzuki's lips in a deep kiss.
Despite himself, Tsuzuki felt his heart warm listening to Muraki's mixture of dark cynicism and genius insight, his mixture of love and brutal honesty. Listening to Muraki's morbid words that were somehow so beautiful inspired something in himself. If Muraki could know such beauty and be so dark, then surely there was hope for a black sheep like Tsuzuki…
Perhaps he was worth saving…
Muraki pulled back from the kiss that Tsuzuki had been returning without hesitation, and he gave a smile that made Tsuzuki's blood run cold even as he felt a flicker of perverse excitement. This was what Muraki had done to him, twisting his concept of morals to suit himself and their utterly despicable relationship. Muraki had raped Hisoka so coldly, murdered so callously, and he knew no love.
But Tsuzuki, who had tried to take his own life, who had been such a freak, who had murdered, but known love from his sister…he wanted to teach Muraki. He wanted to lead his fallen angel back on the path of salvation. And if it required his body becoming Muraki's plaything, then so be it.
Muraki kept his smile as his hand stroked slowly down Tsuzuki's body, brushing lightly over every curve, every sensitive bit before reaching Tsuzuki's boxers which he slid off with equal care before tossing them aside. Tsuzuki's body lay bare, and Muraki's eyes roved over every inch of him before he met the amethyst-Shinigami's gaze.
"Beautiful." Muraki said simply. No more needed to be said. They both knew that even if Muraki lacked love, he was far from made of stone and to him, Tsuzuki was an exquisite beauty.
Tsuzuki felt naked under Muraki's gaze, and not because his clothes were off. He felt Muraki could see inside of him, to all of his fears and uncertainties, to his love and determination, to his sorrow and pain, to the depths of his insanity and self. "Your turn." he whispered, unable to do much more with his eyes locked with Muraki's silvery ones. With Muraki giving him that look, like Tsuzuki was the whole world and every damned thing in it.
Muraki's lips curved into a wry smile. "As you wish, Mr. Tsuzuki.." The nickname hung between them. Muraki never let up, he had to be somehow mocking, somehow in control.
As if being on top wasn't control enough.
Muraki casually moved his hands from Tsuzuki and removed his pants, revealing his toned, pale body as he cast them aside and smirked a bit as he looked at Tsuzuki's roving gaze. "Like what you see, Mr. Tsuzuki?"
Tsuzuki jumped, blushing darkly and mumbling something incoherent, looking like a guilty child.
Muraki loved it.
He was on the other in an instant, ramrod stiff and pressed against Tsuzuki as he pinned the other's arms above his head. "You are so wonderful, Tsuzuki. A monster, just like me. But so very innocent. So fragile. I just want to cut that pretty little neck of yours open and see what that pale flesh looks like painted in crimson…such a lovely canvas. And you're already a lovely corpse. You are dead, after all." Muraki murmured as he leaned down and began trailing kisses along Tsuzuki's neck.
Muraki paused suddenly, his gaze going to one of the wrists he held, and he moved his hand away to reveal the watch on the right hand. "Mr. Tsuzuki.." his voice was low. "I believe I've told you before how I feel about you wearing that watch around me.."
Tsuzuki's eyes widened. He'd forgotten to take it off. Muraki hated the watch, hated what it represented. He felt Tsuzuki was attempting to hide his true self, the self Muraki believed was a heartless, selfish monster.
Muraki deftly undid the watch and carelessly tossed it aside, returning his gaze to Tsuzuki and the right wrist. Thin white scars laced the wrist where Tsuzuki had cut over and over again , undying. "I've told you not to wear that watch, Mr. Tsuzuki. I would punish you, but since it's your birthday, I'll give you a gift instead." Muraki slid a vial from his nightstand, sliding the liquid into his mouth before moving back to Tsuzuki and kissing him soundly.
Tsuzuki could taste a bitter liquid and he tried to spit, but Muraki's lips were locked in his and he found himself swallowing as Muraki's tongue mingled with his own. When Muraki pulled away, looking coolly smug, Tsuzuki felt uneasy.
"Muraki, what-"
A finger moved to Tsuzuki's lips. "Hush now. I'll take care of the rest." Muraki promised in his soft, silken voice before he leaned down and began trailing kisses along Tsuzuki's neck, ending in a sharp nip that became a fierce love bite.
Tsuzuki yelped, squirming, but Muraki held him fast and before he pulled back to examine the darkening mark on Tsuzuki's neck, he licked away the faint trace of blood he'd lifted from the other. "Delicious.." he murmured, before leaning down again.
Muraki slid his hand up Tsuzuki's neck and cheek before it came to Tsuzuki's hair. He stroked it a moment, feeling the silken strands before he gripped it in his hand and forced his mouth down on Tsuzuki's hard. He kissed the other deeply while pressing further against Tsuzuki, gripping the other's hair tightly and moaning as he caught another taste of blood. When he pulled back, Tsuzuki's cheeks were slightly flushed and his lips passion bruised, the bottom faintly trickling with blood. "So beautiful against your pale skin.." he murmured admiringly, brushing a hand against Tsuzuki's chin. "Just as I'd hoped."
Muraki then gripped Tsuzuki's chin a bit harder, sharp nails digging against his soft skin as Muraki then leaned down, trailing kisses along Tsuzuki's neck before he reached the other's chest. "How can a corpse be so warm?" he murmured, licking Tsuzuki's right nipple and blowing on it lightly.
Tsuzuki shuddered beneath him. Despite himself, he was already swollen in his nether regions, desiring the other, wanting what was happening even as he hated himself for it. Muraki had trained him to like it, to expect pain with pleasure. To take their bloody kisses as signs of something good, to look forward to the bites and cuts and yanks. Muraki caused so much pain, but if he chose, he could bring so very much pleasure. Tsuzuki heard a sort of whimper as Muraki dug one of his canines into Tsuzuki's nipple, and he was ashamed to realize it was his own. How could he be doing this? How could he be letting himself be used by…another monster?
By himself?
Muraki, as if knowing Tsuzuki's thoughts, lifted and brushed a gentle hand against Tsuzuki's cheek with an expression so tender, Tsuzuki could almost believe Kazutaka Muraki was every bit as angelic as he looked, a doctor of good merit as he claimed, he could almost believe they weren't abominations.
Almost.
"Sweet Tsuzuki…wipe that troubled look from your brow. It's your birthday. Enjoy it." he chuckled lightly before tracing his tongue against Tsuzuki's lips. "I'll make you enjoy it." he promised, as if reassurance were needed before he rose again. Muraki moved forward and straddled Tsuzuki fully. He then returned to his trailing kisses and nips, his body pressed against Tsuzuki's as he licked and nipped and prodded.
And then came the dagger.
Muraki was fascinated by the way that Tsuzuki's wounds healed so quickly and without so much as a scar. He was fascinated by the Shinigami in general, and by Tsuzuki himself. And Tsuzuki knew cutting him with the dagger was one of Muraki's ways of expressing that fascination and exerting his control. His doctor's edge.
Tsuzuki watched as the silvery dagger glinted in the moonlight. Despite having tasted Tsuzuki's blood before, the knife was clean, another hint of the sterile tendencies of the doctor before him. In some ways, anyway. "Muraki." his voice was a faint whisper, both dreading and desiring what was coming.
Muraki chuckled lightly. "Never fear, Mr. Tsuzuki. For with pleasure, inevitably, there is pain…and vice versa." he explained as he traced the tip of the dagger at Tsuzuki's collar bone. "And you, my black rose, were made for pain."
With that, he slid the dagger down Tsuzuki's chest, loving the wince and the small noise that Tsuzuki emitted as he bit back his tongue to keep from crying out as the dagger trailed from his collar bone down to his belly button, creating a thin, red line.
Muraki stared, transfixed, before leaning down and trailing his tongue slowly along the thin trail of blood. Tsuzuki shuddered from the cool, wet touch of the tongue against his bloodied skin. He grew fully hard at just that little push, and Muraki lifted with a smirk. "Already? You must have missed me terribly, Mr. Tsuzuki. I'm flattered."
Tsuzuki ground his teeth lightly to bite back a moan as Muraki's tongue went back to playing with his slowly closing cut. "Just get on with it or give me a drink." he growled, getting agitated in his need and his own inner turmoil.
Tsuzuki's pain seemed to amuse Muraki further, and he smiled grimly. "No drinks, I'm afraid. So I suppose I'll just have to…get on with it.." Before Tsuzuki could protest, realizing what he'd growled, Muraki had slipped lower and was poised at his entrance with Tsuzuki lightly arched. It hurt worse from that angle, damnit, and he wasn't sure if using relatively a woman's position was worse than using a dog's or not, but it hurt either way.
Muraki leaned down, his lips a mere breath from Tsuzuki's. "Anything you desire, I shall give you, my black, black rose." Muraki then kissed Tsuzuki deeply as he shoved inside of the other without warning.
Tsuzuki cried out in Muraki's mouth, their lips locked again and he arched in an explosion of pain before moaning into Muraki's mouth with a mix of said pain as well as pleasure. He was bleeding, he could feel the trickling warmth and Muraki's slightly flushed complexion and the glint in his eyes suggested he realized it as well.
Muraki took Tsuzuki without gentleness, biting him and drawing a bit more blood. The chest cut had healed by then, but dried blood remained flaking about Tsuzuki's chest lightly and Muraki pounded harder with every glimpse of the remnants of his dagger's bite.
Tsuzuki found himself being taken hard and the pain was agonizing even as the pleasure was exquisite. Muraki had truly messed with his head, and he cried out. "P-Please." Tsuzuki heard his voice and wanted to throttle himself. He wanted to strangle Muraki. But instead, he found himself receiving a sharp thrust in response to his please and he cried out again. Muraki kept up his assault until the instant when, oddly enough, simultaneously they came to pleasure, blood mixing with their sensuous juices and leaving them both flushed and breathing heavily in satisfaction and, in Tsuzuki's case, pain.
Muraki slid out but didn't move from straddling the other, running his hand over Tsuzuki's bare chest. "You are divine, Tsuzuki…you are my light…" he murmured.
Tsuzuki's afterglow rapture faded somewhat at that, and he was distracted a bit from his pain as he muttered. "Ha. Sure. I'm so bright…what a pair we make…we're too dark to speak of light, Muraki. "
Muraki paused a long moment, and Tsuzuki looked up, wondering if he'd somehow angered the other when he noted Muraki's soft expression.
"Darkness doesn't denote evil, Tsuzuki, nor does light denote good. They are facets of existence, ever-changing, ever fickle. There is no favoritism, or fairness. Light and dark are not enemies, but beloved lovers that chance to meet or meet not at all…you are my light…" he murmured, and this time, Tsuzuki found himself genuinely wondering if he could believe the other. If Muraki would be capable-
The dagger glinted before them as Muraki picked it up, a thin trail of red along the blade's sharp edge. "Muraki…?" There was a question in his voice as Tsuzuki's brow furrowed in confusion.
Muraki stared down at Tsuzuki, a slight smile curving his lips before he leaned down and kissed Tsuzuki softly. When he pulled away, he spoke softly as well. "I want to give you a gift, Tsuzuki."
Tsuzuki blinked. "Huh…right…er…where is it?" he asked. It couldn't have been sex, or Muraki wouldn't have said 'give' as in a gift he hadn't yet given.
Muraki's smile widened slightly, mirthless and chilling even as it was beautiful. "Do you remember what I said about letting roses die? A rose in bloom is lovely, but is doomed to die so quickly. Dead roses are immortal, with only dust to claim them. My love for you I give in dead roses, and for your gift. I give you temporary life."
Tsuzuki blinked, not understanding until he saw Muraki lift the blade. He at once began struggling, but Muraki was ready and he was strong for a human, quick as well. The blade glinted in the moonlight then flashed as it was brought down, straight across Tsuzuki's throat. Blood exploded from the wound and then trickled as skin hung uselessly while Tsuzuki's amethyst eyes darkened and stared listlessly at Muraki. "Muraki…" he croaked, coughing a bit and dribbling a bit of blood from his mouth. The pain was unimaginable. Why was it hurting so much…why wasn't he healing faster? Why had Muraki slit his throat? Just to use him as a canvas like he'd wanted…?"
Tsuzuki stared up at Muraki, wanting to speak, but finding his words choked whenever he tried. He didn't understand yet.
It wasn't until the blood began soaking into his clothes and he found his neck slowly healing that he felt an odd warmth in his chest, an unfamiliar aching that caused him to open his mouth wide and inhale before exhaling.
Tsuzuki froze, the magnitude hitting him then. "Nnn.." Tsuzuki managed, his expression frustrated but his eyes wide.
Muraki shook his head and smiled wryly. "My poor little Tsuzuki…have you figured it out yet?" he asked, still atop his lover. "That potion was very, very special..it won't last too long, but it will last long enough. You're alive, Tsuzuki. In that state between living and dead that a rose in full bloom experiences. I made you bloom, and now, it's my job to ensure that you wilt properly. That you become beautiful again." he said softly and Tsuzuki realized suddenly that Muraki's sanity, which Tsuzuki had thought to be helping, seemed as bad as ever.
Except that instead of Saki occupying Muraki's every waking moment, it was Tsuzuki.
Muraki smiled down at Tsuzuki, brushing a gentle hand against his cheek. "You're my black rose, Tsuzuki. My immortal. I'll never let you go…" he promised softly before leaning down, his silvery eyes meeting Tsuzuki's amethyst ones. Tsuzuki gave a sudden, lurching gasp and Muraki knew that the other had breathed his last.
"There's a good boy…" Muraki crooned. "Soon you'll be all mine. In death, I'll bind you to me, Tsuzuki.."
Tsuzuki's eyes stared, seeing and unmoving up at Muraki. There was a sickening moment of struggle, of fighting to breathe and then of nothing. Tsuzuki had just died, but he was dead already, in a way and being a Shinigami without an actual human form gave him nowhere to go. For the moment, Tsuzuki could only stare up at Muraki, frozen as his Shinigami's body struggled to cope with the change. And then he found feeling returning to him, and his eyes widened. "M-Muraki-" he choked out.
Muraki merely smiled, picking up a few scattered rose petals from the bed and dropping them over Tsuzuki. "For you, my black rose." he murmured. And when Tsuzuki stiffened, Muraki chuckled lightly. "Your body is having difficulty moving, isn't it? That's what happens when nerves in the neck are shot, when your heart stops beating and your body dies…and now thanks to me you've died again. You are beautiful, Tsuzuki."
Amethyst eyes stared up at Muraki, seeing all while saying nothing. "Muraki…"
There was something between them, a tie Tsuzuki couldn't explain. But he knew that he was linked to this man, this monster, this devil disguised as an angel.
Muraki smiled down at Tsuzuki, brushing his hair back lightly. "We're bound, Tsuzuki, you and I. A pair of monsters in a dark, wretched world."
"You said…that dark wasn't...evil…" Tsuzuki rasped out as his throat healed further.
Muraki seemed amused. "So I did, and it isn't. You are so bright, Tsuzuki. You outshine the sun. But in the darkness there is much to be desired. You give me so much to desire." he whispered, leaning down then. "Happy birthday, Asato." he said softly, using the other's name for the first time before catching Tsuzki's lips in a deep, bloody kiss as the moon hung in the sky and turned the façade of light to the pure, everlasting darkness.