It's not dead! ::cheers::

Warnings for lime, arguments, and overuse of OCs. ^^

Chapter Three

Muraki walked into the kitchen to see Oriya's lower half. The rest of him was buried in the pantry. Muraki admired that lower half, waiting patiently for Oriya's attention. The others had gone elsewhere; he suspected that Oriya had requested privacy. "I'm almost done putting the groceries away," Oriya said, pulling his head and shoulders out of the pantry. "You can wait."

Muraki nodded complacently. He didn't bother to ask how Oriya had known he was there. It was just something that Oriya could do.

He waited while Oriya finished with the groceries. "You wanted to see me?" he finally asked.

Oriya nodded. "Upstairs," he said.

Muraki raised an eyebrow, but followed him up to his bedroom. The geisha obeyed Oriya when he requested time alone, so if he wanted this behind closed doors, it really had to be important. Oriya closed the door behind them and turned to give him a considering look. "I want to know your intentions," he said abruptly.

There was a pause. Muraki couldn't help but smile.

"Don't smirk at me, you condescending bastard," Oriya said. "I know damn well you plan on leaving again. Don't think I don't know you well enough for that."

Muraki shrugged. "Then you already know my intentions."

Oriya stared out the window for a long minute. His hair was down and unbound, trailing over his shoulders. "You don't have to go," he said quietly, looking outside intently. He did not turn around even when Muraki stepped toward him, putting his arms around Oriya's waist. "You could stay here. I know that you're happier when you're here."

"I am," Muraki agreed. "But are you?"

Oriya studied the horizon. "I don't know," he said.

"Not exactly a stunning endorsement," Muraki said mildly, pressing his chest against Oriya's back. He was just the right height for his lips to press against Oriya's ear as he spoke, his warm breath soft against it. Oriya shivered.

"You don't have anywhere else to go, anyway," Oriya replied.

"I suppose not," Muraki said, leaning against him, letting Oriya take some of his weight. He was suddenly unbearably tired. Oriya was right. He had nowhere to go. There was really no point to leaving. There was no more work for him to do. No point to anything, not really.

"Where were you last night?" Oriya asked, his voice quiet.

Muraki tensed a little. He hadn't realized that Oriya knew he had not been in his room. "I went out," he said. After Oriya had angered him, he had needed to get rid of some of that tension. The geisha were hands off, but there were plenty of other people in the neighborhood.

"I figured," Oriya said. He moved a few inches away from Muraki, leaning on the windowsill. "It was in the newspaper."

Muraki shrugged.

"I hope you don't plan on turning that sort of incident into a regular thing," Oriya said, turning around. His elbows were still on the sill, some of his hair trailing out the window. He was giving Muraki a very pointed look.

Muraki smiled. "That's why I was going to leave."

Oriya snorted. "Off somewhere so you could murder people in peace? Off to kick up a fuss so the Shinigami will have to come for you? So Tsuzuki will finish what he started when he put that knife in your stomach? I know you too well, Muraki. You aren't going anywhere."

Muraki took a few steps forward, pressing his body against Oriya's, smirking as Oriya closed his eyes in enjoyment. "Are you sure you aren't just saying this because you don't want me to leave?" he asked.

Oriya opened his eyes and gave Muraki a steady look. "When I thought I would never see you again, that made me unhappy," he said softly. "And if you walk out these doors again, I know that's what it would be. So yes, I am saying this because I don't want you to leave. But I have no idea whether or not you respect my opinion enough."

"Last night you nearly kicked me out," Muraki reminded him.

Oriya snorted. "Because you wouldn't behave."

Muraki rolled his eyes. "You're very contrary, you know that? You don't want me to leave, but you threaten to throw me out when I won't behave. Make up your mind."

"I have," Oriya said.

Muraki sighed, closing his eyes and leaning against Oriya again. "You never open yourself to me completely," he said, and Oriya thought he heard real regret in his tone. "You never really let me in, not anymore. You don't trust me."

"Should I?" Oriya asked.

"No."

Silence.

"Sometimes I dream about killing you," Muraki said, murmuring the words directly into Oriya's ear. "About how easy it would be. About how beautiful it would be. But I know I'll never do it. Isn't that strange? I can kill without a second's remorse, but you . . . I would never kill you, yet I don't know why."

"I do," Oriya replied.

"Are you going to say it's true love?" Muraki asked. His tone was amused, but there was a strained note beneath it. Oriya wondered if he wanted the answer to be yes.

"No," he said. "But you know that I'm the only person you can depend on. The only person who has always been there for you, that you've always been able to count on. The only person who knows you for who you really are, but hasn't abandoned you. That's why you don't want to kill me. You don't want to lose that."

Muraki inclined his head in a slight nod, accepting that answer. "You said you had made up your mind."

"Yes." Oriya pulled away and walked across the room. "I want you to stay. And I want you to stay for a year. And during that time, I don't want you to hurt anyone. No killing, no maiming, no raping, no sexual assault, no disfiguring, no experimentation, no emotional abuse, and no killing."

"You said 'no killing' twice," Muraki said. His voice was amused. He was not.

"I figured it warranted a second mention."

Muraki tried to think of anything that Oriya had left out. He couldn't. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I think it would do you some good to live without hurting other people for a while. I think you don't really know what it's like. I also don't want the police down on my head because you're staying here."

Muraki's lips twitched in a smile. "And if I don't feel like it?"

Oriya shrugged. "Fine. I should have known better than to think you would try. I don't know why I thought you could do it, or why I thought you would."

That annoyed Muraki, and it was worse because he knew the comment was directly intended as reverse psychology, and it worked anyway. "You think I'm not up to the challenge?" he asked. Oriya just shrugged. "All right," Muraki said. "What do I get if I win?"

"You can have me." Oriya went back to staring at the window. "What was it you said a few minutes ago? That I never let myself open to you anymore, or let you in. Do this for me, and you can have that. You can have me. Mind, body, and soul, to do with as you like. To kiss or to kill." His voice held a slightly wistful note. "It doesn't make much of a difference now anyway. My body and soul are already yours. It's only my logical side that fights it."

"And if I fail?" Muraki asked.

"Nothing." Oriya shrugged. "We go on as usual."

Muraki smiled a little, although the thought of losing his chance to his own inadequacies was inexplicably painful. "And what if I refuse completely?" he asked, wanting to get all his options settled.

"Then I'll either run you through where you stand right now," Oriya said, with a charming smile, "or I'll kick you out and we'll never see each other again."

Muraki laughed, although he knew that Oriya wasn't joking. "All right," he said. "I accept your terms. What about sex?"

"What about it?" Oriya asked dryly.

Muraki smiled. "There is the small matter of Reiku . . ."

"He changed his mind. He's no longer up for grabs. Or perhaps I should say that I changed his mind for him. If you can find willing partners, be my guest. But no rape. That was part of the agreement."

"I wasn't likely to forget," Muraki said with a smile. He took a few steps forward, backing Oriya against a wall. "So be sure that you don't resist me."

Oriya raised an eyebrow. "You never do what I expect, you know that?"

"What did you expect that I was going to do?" Muraki asked curiously, hooking his fingers in the V of Oriya's kimono and pulling him closer.

"I don't know," Oriya said. "But I thought I had pissed you off, and so I wasn't really expecting preludes to sex. What would you do if I said I had work to do before we opened tonight?"

"I wouldn't believe you." Muraki pressed Oriya to the wall, leaning close and speaking right into his ear. "It's Wednesday. You cleaned last night, the shopping is done . . . you don't have anything to do until five thirty, an hour before the restaurant opens."

"You do know me too well," Oriya said, amused.

"You are completely not busy right now," Muraki said, pressing his lips against Oriya's neck and smiling as Oriya shivered. "Unless you count how busy you are with me." He slowly undid Oriya's obi and let it fall to the ground. Oriya shivered again as Muraki parted the kimono.

"I remember when we were in college and you didn't wear anything underneath these," Muraki murmured, his finger tracing the waistband of Oriya's boxers. "I always thought it was a shame you decided not to anymore . . ."

"Shut up," Oriya said, tilting his head back. It was getting harder to catch his breath as Muraki's fingers traced over his skin.

Muraki smiled. "Did you miss me, Ori-chan?"

"I missed you," Oriya said, and allowed Muraki to steer him over to the futon and push him down onto it. "But you were being a jerk when you were here . . . fawning over your little Shinigami and ignoring me. I still ought to kick your ass for that."

"Are you going to?" Muraki asked, running his hand lazily over Oriya's stomach, then over the waist of his boxers. "Because I feel like I should know," he added, smirking as Oriya bit his lip to keep from making any noise. He leaned down for a kiss, his teeth tugging at Oriya's lower lip. Oriya moaned dizzily into Muraki's mouth.

"You should let yourself go more," Muraki said, leaning down to lick at Oriya's chest in long, slow strokes. "Who's going to care if you make noise? The others won't care. They all know we're sleeping together anyway. I think they might be happy to hear you having a little fun."

Oriya didn't reply. Instead, he bit down on his hand to keep from crying out.

Muraki laughed. He took hold of Oriya's wrist and raised his hand to his lips. "You could teach lessons in the art of repression," he said, drawing Oriya's finger into his mouth. Oriya tilted his head back and let out a slight, breathy sigh as Muraki gave the treatment to each of his fingers in turn.

"Maybe I just don't want the others to hear," Oriya said. "Maybe we both know damn well that Itsuko, Yoshie, and Reiku will all laugh at me once I leave this room. Even if they're glad I'm happy, they'll still laugh at me."

"Maybe I don't care," Muraki said, tugging at the boxers. Oriya lifted his hips slightly, and they slid off easily. Muraki tossed them across the room. "I really did miss you, you know," he said, moving his lips down Oriya's stomach.

"Sure, sure," Oriya mumbled, trying not to bite his lips. Muraki had his hands pinned down very firmly at his sides to keep him from biting his knuckles again. It didn't help that Muraki was very slowly making his way lower.

"Scream for me, Oriya," Muraki whispered, keeping his hands pinned as he kissed his way lower.

Oriya clenched his jaw. "You . . . bastard . . ." he managed.

"You know I love the sound of your voice," Muraki murmured, licking his way up Oriya's inner thigh. Oriya bit his lip, but was unable to hold back a small cry. Muraki chuckled, hovering just a few inches away from Oriya. "Aren't you going to say please?" he asked.

"You -- " Oriya struggled to get his hands free, but Muraki had him too well pinned.

"Come on, Oriya . . ." Muraki leaned down just close enough for Oriya to feel his lips. "Beg for me . . ."

"God, you fucking bastard," Oriya said, his head tilting back. "I hate you and I want you so bad I can't stand it . . . I missed you so much . . ."

"Louder," Muraki said, and got down to business.

Oriya tilted his head back and was unable to hold back a moaning cry. "Please, Kazutaka . . . please . . ."

Muraki had never questioned why Oriya only used his first name during sex. It was odd, but it never seemed worth asking about. There was too good a chance that Oriya would get annoyed at him for asking, or say that he should know anyway. Now that Oriya seemed done resisting, he let go of his wrists, allowing Oriya to twine his hands in Muraki's hair.

Given that he had been teasing Oriya immensely, and was not showing any restraint, it did not take long to finish. Oriya closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath, feeling very nicely limp.

Muraki traced one hand up his chest. "I hope you recover quickly," he murmured into Oriya's ear. "Because I'm not finished yet."

Oriya cracked one eye open. "Well, no, I didn't figure," he mumbled. "You never even got your pants off. And God forbid you give pleasure without taking any."

Muraki gave him an affronted look. Then he stood up and slowly began to undress. Oriya watched wordlessly. "What are you going to do?" he asked the silence, wondering if Muraki would answer. Muraki lifted an eyebrow. "Not now, you prick," Oriya snapped irritably. "I just meant . . . in general. You accepted my terms. Does that mean you'll stay here?"

"I wouldn't have accepted them if I wasn't going to," Muraki said, sliding his belt out of his pants. "Would it make you feel better if I said it?"

"Maybe," Oriya admitted.

Muraki dropped his pants and underwear to the floor and stepped out of them, then lay down next to Oriya. One hand ran pensively through Oriya's hair. "Yes," he said. "I'm going to stay here. Unless you kick me out. It's not like I have anything better to do."

Oriya bristled at that remark. "So you're just doing it for lack of options," he said bitterly. "I should have known as much. You always -- "

His words were cut off as Muraki kissed him. Not a violent kiss or a forceful kiss. A gentle, somehow knowing kiss.

Oriya closed his eyes and twined his arms around Muraki's shoulders, and wondered why he had to love the man so damn much.

~~~~

"What is Tsuzuki to you?" Oriya asked the silence.

Muraki's hands stilled momentarily in what he was doing. After a very enthusiastic afternoon, he had declared that the early evening was going to be relaxation time. Since Oriya didn't have anything to do until the restaurant opened at six thirty, he was perfectly all right with this concept.

Somehow, the idea had led to a backrub, which Oriya also had no problem with. He had the opinion that Muraki gave one of the best massages in the world. Muraki said it came of being a doctor, of knowing the individual muscles. Oriya said it was because he used scented oils and was the sexiest bastard in Japan.

"What do you mean?" Muraki asked; after his moment's hesitation, his hands going back to their near liquid movement over the tension in Oriya's back.

"Don't give me that," Oriya said, although he was too relaxed to work up anger. "I saw the way you looked at him. He meant something to you, and I'd like to know whether or not it's worth being jealous over."

Muraki laughed softly. "Figures it would be something like that. Nothing ever changed between us in the year and a half I knew him."

"True," Oriya said. "But given that I don't really know what I am to you, I can't really use that as a unit of comparison, now can I."

"I suppose not," Muraki said with a chuckle.

"Did you love him?" Oriya asked quietly.

"I don't really know," Muraki said thoughtfully. "I don't really know what that would be like, to be in love with somebody. But I don't think so, in the end. He was beautiful, he was . . . desirable . . . but he was a means to an end. I was going to kill him in order to resurrect Saki, so I don't think I could have loved him."

Oriya nodded. This logic made good sense to him, and he was relieved. He didn't know what he would have said or done if Muraki had said yes, but he knew that he would have been upset.

"Besides, no reason to be jealous," Muraki said. "I was going to kill him, but we've already established that I wouldn't kill you. That must mean something, in the end."

"Good," Oriya said, feeling sleepy. It had been a long day.

"Good?" Muraki asked, amused. "That's all you've got to say to that? Good?"

"Good," Oriya agreed. "What's wrong with just saying that?"

"I find it entertaining," Muraki said, devoting his attention to a particularly tense muscle in Oriya's lower back. Oriya bit his lip as Muraki pressed down on it. "After all, just because I didn't love him doesn't mean that by default, I love you."

The words were casually dropped into the atmosphere. Up until then, bringing up the subject of what lay between them has been an unspoken prohibition. They both knew all the facts, and it wasn't worth discussing, not even in the darkest hours of the night.

Oriya shrugged out from underneath Muraki's touch and stood, reaching for his kimono.

"Don't go," Muraki said, realizing his mistake too late.

"Why shouldn't I?" Oriya asked viciously, pulling the kimono on and looking around for his obi. He hadn't the faintest memory of where in the room he'd been when Muraki had pulled it off. "It's nearly six. I have work to do. Why should I stay up here and be coddled and condescended to?"

Muraki picked the obi up off the floor and twined it between his hands. "I didn't mean to say that," he said.

"Oh, that's just fine," Oriya said flatly, fuming. "Unfortunately for you, you said it, and it's not exactly something I'm going to forget. Do what you like with the evening. I'm going to go do my job."

"I have your obi," Muraki pointed out, not exactly in a teasing tone, but in the manner of one who is stating a fact and holds the upper hand.

"I would rather," Oriya snarled, "walk through these halls naked than stay in this room with you for five more seconds." He turned on his heel, holding his kimono wrapped around him, and slammed his way out of the room. He was shaking, bordering on a fine line between being angry and being upset.

He met Himiko in the hallway. If she noticed his state of partial dress, she didn't mention it. "Your dinner is ready," she said. "And so is Muraki-san's."

"That bastard can starve to death for all I care," Oriya snapped. He saw her raised eyebrow and felt bad for losing his temper with her. God only knew that it wasn't her fault. "I'll be down as soon as I get another obi."

Himiko simply nodded and turned away.

When Oriya got downstairs, he passed the room where the geisha were waiting. There was a smattering of giggles from inside, and he thought back to that afternoon with an inward groan. They couldn't have helped but heard. Still, duties called. He quickly glanced into the room and noted that they were all present and accounted for except Reiku. "Where's Reiku?" he asked abruptly.

Yoshie and Suzumi smothered their giggles quickly, realizing that he was in the room. Mitsu gave him a sunny grin, and Namika bit her lip to keep from smiling, looking away. Chisa and Asawe gave him identical thoughtful looks. As for Itsuko, she looked like she was in a foul mood. Knowing her opinion of Muraki, this didn't surprise Oriya.

"He's showering," Mitsu answered quickly, when it became clear that no one else was going to. "He should be down in a few minutes."

"Good." Oriya turned to go.

"Ne, Oriya," Itsuko said from her corner, "how long will Muraki-san be staying?"

"I don't know," he said, hoping he could glare down her disapproving look. "But possibly quite a while. He's taking an extended vacation of sorts."

"He's actually staying?" she asked incredulously.

Oriya tried to keep himself from going tense. "Itsuko, if you have something to say about Muraki or myself, I suggest you do it in private. Now is neither the time nor the place." Something about the strained tone of voice he used made the smiles disappear from the geisha's faces.

"All right," Itsuko said, subdued. "Gomen ne."

Oriya suddenly felt incredibly tired. "It's okay. I . . . I have work to do."

He turned and left the room. The other geisha were left in silence, contemplating what had just happened. Reiku stepped in mere seconds after Oriya had left, wearing loose cotton pants and a Chinese style shirt. It was as close to geisha clothes as he could get. "What's up?" he asked, toweling his hair dry. "Everyone looks so somber."

He got a variety of looks. Out of all of them, Itsuko was the only one who really cared for him, treating him as a wayward younger brother of sorts. Mitsu liked him, but then again, Mitsu liked everyone. The others merely tolerated him, with the sole exception of Suzumi, who violently disliked him.

It was not precisely his personality that made them wary of him; it was simply his gender. Most of them had been abused by men for years and raped more than once. A natural distrust of men ran strongly in them, with the exception of Oriya, whom they all viewed as a rescuer and protector.

"Looks like Muraki's going to be staying for a while," Mitsu said quietly, in a tone of voice unlike her usual cheer. She, Yoshie, and Itsuko had been there the longest. They had watched the cycle of Muraki and Oriya many, many times, and all of them knew that it only ended in unhappiness.

"Oh," Reiku said, and sat down. "That's bad? He's kinda funny."

"I agree," Asawe said suddenly, gaining several startled looks. "I'd like to be filled in. If this . . . if this is something that could hurt Oriya-san, I want to know about it." Her voice faltered slightly as Itsuko turned the glare on her, but strengthened when Chisa reached out and took her hand. "Just because we haven't been here as long doesn't mean that we don't care about him."

"I'd like to know, too," Namika said. "And the truth, not these rumors that Yo-chan has been spreading." As Yoshie's roommate, she was forced to listen to said rumors quite a bit.

"Muraki," Itsuko said concisely, "is a cold-blooded bastard."

Mitsu sighed as everyone gave Itsuko a look for being singularly unhelpful. "We don't really know what's between them," she said. "It's just . . . Oriya-san loves him. I mean, we all know that. But I don't really think that Muraki-san loves him back. He does this sometimes . . . he shows up, stays for a while, lets Oriya-san think that everything's going to be okay. But then he always takes off again. I asked Oriya-san where he had gone once, when I was new here, and he said that Muraki-san was off chasing shadows. I never had the guts to ask him what he meant by that."

"So what do you think?" Chisa asked from her corner of the room. "Would it be better for Muraki-san to go now? Or later?"

"I don't know," Mitsu said. "I just know that whatever happens, Oriya-san is going to be hurt. Until he manages to cut Muraki-san out of his life completely, he's always going to be hurt by him."

"Nice girls don't gossip," Himiko said sharply from the doorway, and everyone jumped.

Suzumi's eyes lit up, and she totally ignored the injunction. "Himiko-san, you were there, weren't you? You've been here ever since Oriya-san was a little baby. You have to know what's really between him and Muraki-san, don't you?"

"That," Himiko said firmly, "is not any of your business. Nor is it really mine."

"Aww, Himiko-samaaaaa," Yoshie whined, "we just wanna help Oriya-san . . ."

Himiko gave Yoshie a look. She shut up.

"The first customer is here," Himiko said. "It's Gaseka-san."

"All right." Mitsu gracefully rose to her feet. Gaseka was a regular who never failed to ask for her, and in truth, she rather liked him. He was polite and courteous. "Jaa ne," she said, waving to the others as she left the room.

Himiko gave them all one last glare and left the room.

"So what do you think we should do?" Asawe asked.

"Wait," Itsuko said, "and watch."

~~~~~