If ...
By Leareth
What my brain gets up to at two a.m. in the morning after reading amusing discussions about four poster beds and wine. Actually, it had been floating around in the recesses of my brain for a little while before that, so I can't blame anyone.
Muraki and Tsuzuki, a 'what if' during the King of Swords arc of the Yami no Matsuei anime. It's yaoi. In other words, if you don't like, go away.
Muraki was dead.
Tsuzuki lay on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling. Outside, clouds were gathering about the cruise ship, like some sky-portent of things to come. Hisoka had left him – probably visiting Tsubaki-hime again – and Gushoushin was asleep. That left Tsuzuki alone, tired after running around the Camelia's corridors in search of a murderer who had murdered a murderer.
Muraki is dead.
Strychnine, so that young medical student had said. At least it wasn't messy. There hadn't been any blood. Instead, the only red on the body had been on his lips and from the roses that he had been cradling –
– roses meant for him.
It was a huge bouquet, Tsuzuki remembered, so huge that he had to hold it in both arms when Muraki had given them to him, almost suffocating in their scent. He hadn't wanted them, not from him, but still, they smelled so nice ...
If I died tonight, would you trust me then?
Tsuzuki rolled over and stared at the cabin wall. Did he know that this would happen? he thought distantly. Is that why he ...
For one night, you are mine.
Tsuzuki closed his eyes. Muraki was a bastard. What he had done to Hisoka, what he had done to Maria, all without remorse, it was unforgivable. Hateful. And yet ...
The way Muraki looked at him. The way Muraki touched him. Someone special. It made Tsuzuki feel special. Wanted.
Desired.
The ship lurched – that must have been a big wave – but Tsuzuki didn't notice. He stared listlessly at the wall. He hated Muraki, yes, he hated Muraki, but wasn't there something about how one shouldn't speak or think ill of the dead? Death was death, an end of a life, he of all people knew that, and you were supposed to remember the dead person well. Even if they weren't worth grieving for. Even if they had done wrong.
Even if they had hurt people.
Muraki is dead.
If I died tonight, would you trust me then?
Tsuzuki closed his eyes, shying away from his thoughts.
If I ....
... if I died ...
... if I died tonight ...
Tsuzuki's breath deepened into slumber. Yet still, his mind wondered.
If I died tonight, would you love me then?
* * * * * * *
He found himself walking down a deserted corridor. It was easy to tell where he was; the VIP section of the 'Queen Camelia'. The place was deserted, silent, he couldn't even hear his footsteps as they sank into the carpet. Where was he going? The place was dark, almost misty, only the wall lights provided some relief. All the doors looked the same, and yet, he knew exactly which one he was looking for.
Tsuzuki stopped in front of one of the doors no different from the rest. He stared at the wood for a long time. Then, shyly, he raised his hand and knocked.
"Come in."
The door swung open of its own accord. Warm, muted light spilled out into the corridor. After the darkness of outside it made Tsuzuki squeeze his eyes shut, and he stumbled into the suite half-blind.
Someone caught his arm.
"I didn't expect you to come," a low voice purred into his ear, a voice that hinted of darker things, darker pleasures.
"I didn't expect to either," Tsuzuki murmured. He was guided to a chair and sat down. A long-stemmed glass was placed into his hand and he drank. He wasn't an expert on such things but it tasted like some sort of wine, rich and well-aged. Definitely red.
The voice laughed. "Well, unexpected surprises are no less welcome than expected ones. Perhaps, in this circumstance, even more so."
"The pleasant nature of surprise." Finally, Tsuzuki's eyes cleared, and he opened them. Muraki smiled at him from the other chair. The soft yellow light reflected off his silvery hair. He had discarded the dinner jacket of the evening and loosened the shirt collar. "I would imagine a doctor wouldn't like surprises."
"On the contrary, I love them." Muraki reached out of his own glass of wine and sipped it. "It makes life so much headier. Exciting." He glanced at Tsuzuki, a soft smile playing about his lips. For some reason it didn't disturb Tsuzuki like it had before. "Shouldn't life be exciting, Tsuzuki-san?"
Tsuzuki met his gaze. "Define 'exciting'."
With the grace of a great cat, Muraki put his glass away. The smile had come fully out of hiding now. "Nothing would please me greater."
Tsuzuki waited. A part of his brain was shouting, something about running, something about fighting. He couldn't hear it.
"Exciting ..." murmured Muraki, hands steepled in his lap and expression thoughtful, "... exciting is when your heart races, and your nerves set fire. You read a story, and you cannot wait to turn the next page and see what happens. You play a game, and every move makes you smile. You hunt someone, and every evasion or conflict makes you want more. Exciting ..." he trailed off, silver eyes fixing Tsuzuki's amethyst ones, "is when you truly live."
Tsuzuki couldn't answer. He watched, transfixed, as Muraki stood up from his chair and came over to him.
"Do you know what it's like, Tsuzuki-san, to live like that?" asked Muraki. "Do you know what it is like to feel that way?" He walked around Tsuzuki to stand beside his chair. One hand came to rest on Tsuzuki's hair, fingering the dark strands. "Do you know what it's like ..." murmured Muraki, "to wake up every day wanting something?"
Tsuzuki's eyes had fallen closed. "I don't know ..."
The hand trailed down his cheek. "Of course you don't," said Muraki gently. His voice was very close to Tsuzuki's ear. "You died."
Tsuzuki squeezed his eyes tight, trying not to cry.
Almost tenderly, Muraki pressed his lips to Tsuzuki's, their warmth enticing Tsuzuki to respond. He tried to, hesitantly, and the moment he did so the tenderness morphed into something deeper. He whimpered a little, trying to pull back. Muraki didn't let him.
"I told you that I would define 'exiciting' for you, didn't I, Tsuzuki-san?" he whispered into his mouth before capturing him for another kiss, more passionate, demanding.
Tsuzuki tried to raise his hand into a spell-position; a stronger hand pinned his wrist to the arm-rest. When Muraki's lips moved to his neck, mouthing their way down to his collar-bone, he tried to speak a spell. He didn't want this, he shouldn't have come here –
If I died tonight, would you love me then?
Tsuzuki stopped. His eyes were wide as Muraki pressed him back into the chair, one hand under his shirt, his tongue tasting his skin. It sent shivers down Tsuzuki's back.
If I died tonight, would you love me then?
Tsuzuki closed his eyes. Hesitantly he lifted his free hand and ran it through Muraki's hair – so soft, silver silk – down the side of his face. Muraki caught it in a strong grip and turned from Tsuzuki's bare shoulder to press his lips into the palm. Tsuzuki watched him wordlessly, shirt undone and senses afire. Muraki caught his eye and smiled.
Desired.
With one swift move Muraki pulled Tsuzuki out of the chair and caught him. Tsuzuki's breath caught, overwhelmed by the body he was pressed against - he didn't know what to do, didn't know what he wanted ... but then again, he realised as Muraki ran fingers sensuously low on his back, he didn't have to do or know anything.
Muraki handled him like he was made of spun crystal. If Tsuzuki tensed, he pulled back, if he shivered, he did more. Tsuzuki couldn't see what he was doing, unable to keep his eyes open, but he could certainly feel the way his heart raced with every touch, first on his arms sliding the shirt off, then down over his stomach stroking the smooth skin there, over his hips and further down to more sensitive regions. Kisses there never was any shortage of for they were everywhere, sparking flames wherever they fell that needed only the barest encouragement to burn further. Tsuzuki tried to return those kisses whenever they fell on his lips; whenever he did, Muraki was more than willing to oblige, his tongue exploring into his mouth in a hint of things to come.
It was pleasant, the desire, overwhelmingly so. Tsuzuki trembled a little, knowing he couldn't stop himself from wanting, knowing that Muraki knew he wanted as he gently pulled the dress pants away leaving him shivering not in cold, and trembled even more when he felt evidence of Muraki wanting just as much as he did. Of their own will he found his hands moving, shyly undoing button after button, naively exploring places that made his cheeks flame. Muraki chuckled when that happened, a low, reverberating chuckle that was more felt than heard. When Tsuzuki's hands hesitated, he was more than willing to guide them even further than they had wanted to go.
"I promise I'll make this fun for you. After all," Muraki added, a twinkle in his eye, "I do die soon."
Tsuzuki wondered if he should feel something at that. He couldn't, not when there was so much else to feel.
Is this what it is to live?
Strong arms twined around him, lifting him off his feet - Tsuzuki gasped a little, involuntarily grasping Muraki's neck as the other man bore him towards the bed, their clothes left behind. Tsuzuki let him do that, let himself be placed gently down on the sheets and Muraki over him. He closed his eyes - he liked that feeling, liked to feel another person's weight and strength pressing him into the bed – he twined his arms around Muraki and pulled him closer, ignoring the voice that all the while was screaming for him to throw the man off and run.
"Is this what you came here tonight for?" asked Muraki, running his fingers down Tsuzuki's side. The wanting was getting unbearable now, Tsuzuki tried to make his breathing slow without success.
"I think so, yes."
Muraki smiled. "Good."
Another kiss, another touch. Tsuzuki tried not to cry out as Muraki played him like he had before, except this time so much more intense, moulding desire like a potter does clay, without climax. It was maddening, this building of desire – Tsuzuki moaned, writhing on the bed as Muraki brought close to the edge only to bring him back, and clutched almost desperately at his shoulder.
"Please."
Muraki kissed him, diverting his attention from the preparations. "Whatever you wish for, Tsuzuki-san."
Tsuzuki closed his eyes.
It was slow at first, perhaps Muraki was taking care to be gentle. Then it seemed that the man couldn't hold back, and Tsuzuki gasped as Muraki pressed into him. Pain now, piercing and almost burning, yet there was pleasure over all of that, far more demanding. Tsuzuki felt himself being crushed against the other's chest; he cried out as Muraki moved again inside him, pain and passion both taking him until that was all there was. Rational thought had long since flown, there was just this person, who wanted him, who was loving him –
– hurting him, almost the same way as he had hurt another, except the difference was Tsuzuki let himself be hurt.
Muraki breathed heavily into his hair, face contorted in an almost frightening expression of ecstasy that wasn't so very different as the expression he wore when hurting people. Tsuzuki barely noticed, caught up in sensation, of Muraki moving within and against him, of his pulse drumming in his ears for the first time in so long – not much longer now, he didn't think he could hold out anymore –
There was a crash.
Tsuzuki sat bolt upright in his bed, clothes damp with sweat. His eyes were wild – when did the room get so dark? – and he stared out the window. It was streaked with rain. Even as he watched, the sky turned a blinding white and an instance later thunder crashed through the glass. It was nothing compared to the beating of Tsuzuki's heart.
Breath slowing, Tsuzuki covered his face with his hands and let out a soft moan. His eyes were wet, as were his clothes; he shuddered as he remembered the cause. He needed a drink; quickly he got out of the tangled sheets and headed for the suite's small private bar. He got out the first bottle that was there, uncorked it, and poured out a glass. Red. He shut his eyes and drank. The taste was familiar – too familiar. Tsuzuki put it down and gripped the edge of the bar with trembling hands. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shivered.
If I died tonight, would you love me then?
~owari~
Behold, the Void @ http://doki3.net/void/