No, I've not forgotten about My harddrive died, taking all my stories with it, and I only got my new one up and running this weekend. So any sequels that were planned, will be at best delayed.
Now, as far as this story goes, all I can say is Muraki made me write it and wouldn't let me consider anything else until it was "done."The man is a harsh muse.
It had been terribly careless of the boy, leaving Tsuzuki alone like that. It was simply begging Muraki to intervene. Truly, not to involve himself would have been almost rude. And Muraki did not like to be rude. He smiled and lightly traced his finger around the lip of his wine glass. The evening had begun excellently. He and Tsuzuki had had one of those perfect chance encounters, arranged with a minimum of sacrifices and spells. The shinigami had been hostile, at first. Only at first, though. The most beautiful look of utter defeat had crossed those spectacular eyes and Tsuzuki had shrugged and permitted Muraki to accompany him to this rather low class bar.
Muraki glanced up at his surroundings and suppressed a sneer. Watching Tsuzuki drink for the past hour had not been enjoyable. The night had started with far more promise than that. And the promise would be fulfilled.
"Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki filled his voice with his best good natured tone. Tsuzuki squinted at him. "Don't you think it's time to leave?"
"No, I don't." The words were very carefully spoken and slightly stretched out; much concentration had gone into properly forming them. "It's still early."
"You're drunk." Muraki kept his voice kind and firm, burying any trace of irritation.
"Not yet." Tsuzuki leaned towards Muraki, barely preventing overbalancing by slamming one arm heavily into the bar. " 'Sides, you should want me drunk."
"Why should I want that?" Muraki caught himself before he pulled away from the quick, hot breath.
"If I'm drunk, I might forget who you are. Might not care." Tsuzuki leaned closer, half-falling into a kiss. It was clumsy and heavy; Muraki would have believed Tsuzuki had simply fallen on him if the kiss hadn't been quite so ...hungry. The desperation had a taste sweeter than grapefruit, harsher then vodka. Muraki stood and let Tsuzuki fall back, steadying the death god with one hand.
"This is a public place, Tsuzuki-san." He scolded. Not too harshly, though. It wouldn't do to dampen Tsuzuki's enthusiasm.
"And how many of these people are you ever going to see again?" Tsuzuki gestured widely, encompassing the denizens of the dingy bar. They were not the sort of people Muraki would associate with, even at work. They were not fit company for him or his dark angel.
"That is not the point." Smiling ever so slightly, Muraki led a surprisingly complacent Tsuzuki out of the bar and into a dark alley.
Once they were off the street, Muraki felt a pull at his arm. He turned back to Tsuzuki, the slightest hint of a questioning smile on his face. It wouldn't do to appear annoyed, either. The smile slid into a look of shock as it was his turn to fall into a kiss. Be dragged into, rather. His hand had been on Tsuzuki's arm, he now found the other man's hands were clinging to him. Holding him it this improper position in this disgusting place. He pushed Tsuzuki down hard, pinning him against the dirt-caked wall.
"But…I thought…" Tsuzuki's words came as awkwardly as his breaths, his eyes wide and helpless.
"We need to be out of sight so I can cast the teleportation spell." Muraki was insulted Tsuzuki would think he woulddo... well, anything in such a filthy place, but he covered his irritation. He stepped back and Tsuzuki slid down the wall, sitting amidst the trash while Muraki prepared the spell. Muraki couldn't finish fast enough.
When the cast was complete, he pulled Tsuzuki close, holding him as the world around them shifted. Gone was the dark, dirty alley, replaced with the smooth walls of his bedroom. Muraki sneered at the apparent eagerness; normally (as if that word could have been applied to the circumstances) he would have brought Tsuzuki to the kitchen, soothed the man with food or drink and only then led the way towards the bed. Teleporting directly into the room was so… unsubtle. But Tsuzuki was oddly eager and Muraki did not consider the kitchen table any more appropriate than that alley. Covering his distaste, he smiled at his beloved.
"They're white." Tsuzuki tried to move away from the bed, but could barely back up before his whole body was pressed against Muraki. "The sheets are white."
"Indeed." Tsuzuki wasn't making sense, but Muraki ignored the words. His own trench coat already discarded, he slid Tsuzuki's off the man's shoulders. With a slight awkwardness, he pulled the coat out from between them and tossed it on the bed. Without quite realizing, his mind drifted into faint nostalgia for the old-fashioned kimonos Oriya wore, gentle fabrics that allowed full access to skin without the necessity of completely undressing. Though, in this case, perhaps only complete nudity would do.
"I'll get it dirty." Tsuzuki sounded almost panicked.
"Hopefully, Tsuzuki-san, you won't be solely responsible." A slight hint of the frustration that had been building leaked into the words. That was not the way to woo such a delicate creature as his Tsuzuki. Charm with a hint of force, not sarcasm, would better serve. He spun the smaller man around and firmly held his shoulders. A gentle pressure pushed the backs of Tsuzuki's knees against the edge of the bed, suggesting the possibility of them bending. Tenderly, he brushed his thumb along Tsusuki's cheek, tracing the paths of the now flowing tears. "Amazing, you look so beautiful when you cry."
"You…you could have fucked me and left me in the alley. I don't deserve this." Tsuzuki's voice shook. This talk was becoming tiring. The greater pleasure to be had from Tsuzuki, breaking him, was past. There was only the lesser pleasure, and he was tired of waiting.
"No, you don't see, my love. I am exactly what you deserve." The gentle pressure became a harsh push and the moon turned red in pleasure.