Dark Adaptation

by Hickok

NEW CONTENT ADDED! Bound to the eternal contract, can a life of sin be so easily shed? Muraki has all that he desires, yet so much remains unanswered. What manner of darkness unfurled between the walls of Muraki manor? Muraki x Tsuzuki and Oriya x Watari

30. Tsuzuki: Old Shoes and Fireflies Pt 2

Dark Adaptation

Disclaimer: Descendants of Darkness, affiliated characters, locations and concepts… are all fictionalized concepts and any relation to any persons living or dead is unintentional and completely fucking creepy.

Also, I don't own it. Thankyou.

Death Precedes us with a Knowing Smile

Part Two of Two: Old Shoes and Fireflies.

If I told you that I want nothing more

And all those dreams of riches I'd abandon on the floor

Then would you see, lying here with me

That all I want is you?

Is you?

If I kissed your lips and promised eternally,

What place steals your heart becomes a home for me.

Then would you see, lying here with me,

That all I want is you?

Is you?

I can't keep it locked inside,

These feelings I can't hide

If I lost you then I would surely die

Now can you see, how it steals the words from me?

And all I want is,

All I need is,

All I want is you.

Damien Leith: "All I want is you" –

Tsuzuki

I placed my bag down beneath an outcropping of the surrounding wall and sat upon it a moment to catch my breath. I do not think that I had paused once since breaking through the Ministry window, not once since I had broken free from both building and name and place and time. And I can honestly say now, that I do not remember much of that moment. That single, immeasurable second when I went from being Asato Tsuzuki the Guardian of Death, to this strange new person, who was as much a mystery to myself as he was to everyone else around him. I do remember the stinging of the glass, the shards that dug deep beneath my flesh and drew blood as thick as tears.

I remember the moments before it as clear as day.

I turned upon Tatsumi, my face an odd contrasting blankness to the intricately tangled mesh of my thoughts. I turned upon him. And at the same time, I turned my back to him.

"Tatsumi…" He gazed upon me as though attempting to breach an eternal abyss, eyes peering into unrelenting, unfathomable darkness. And for the first time, the fear of this ever-widening space between us seemed to frighten him. He reached for me, as though to draw the stone wall back to the cliff face, even as it disappeared into the nighttime nadir of Hell below. His chest started to heave; his shoulders rose and fell in symphony of greatest desolation.

"Tsuzuki… don't look at me like that." And he suddenly seemed afraid, as though he had realized the person to whom he was speaking was not just a complete stranger to him but someone of terrifying repute. I imagine could he have forgotten his self-instilled sagacity to salvage my diluted soul by any means, he would have done so right at that single moment; when the look in my eyes told him without words that I no longer wished to be saved.

"Tatsumi…" I turned about, until I almost faced him entirely and both he and Wakaba, who had also brought herself to her feet, took a perfectly synched step back. "You say that you cannot release me… because I would find myself undone, to the greatest degree possible. I would be destroyed. You seem almost certain in your convictions. Is it a certainty that this would come to pass Tatsumi? Well?"

"Stop it…" He hissed. His head was lowered, his bottom lip clenched so tightly between his teeth that the tissue had already begun to swell. "What do you have to gain from this, Tsuzuki…?"

I held my hands out toward him, cupped them together to make a space between, with my thumbs aligned together to provide a sort of doorway.

"Look at me." I said. I waited until I had his reluctant attention and then held my hands up higher for his inspection. "Have you ever kept a cricket in a box, Tatsumi?"

I thought that I might have touched upon a nerve here, the way that his skin suddenly tightened around the mouth, the way that his brows dipped and quavered as though suspended upon the end of a string. His eyes locked upon the pear shaped cup of my hands before he then in turn raised his own and introspectively placed their sides together, so that both palms were presented towards the ceiling. He took them in, as though the lines of his hands were the most wondrous things of which he had been remiss of until that very moment.

"When… I was a boy…" He said and in the same instance appeared to verily regret and despise these words. And yet it seemed to me that to halt their flow, would be as difficult as to prevent the drops of moisture that ran from a melting glacier. Once exposed to the slightest change in the clime to which it is accustomed, ice will either harden to a glass like state, or it shall dissolve and flow away to other places. Before my eyes, over a half decades worth of hopes and beliefs were drifting away with the tide. "I used to go into the fields surrounding our home and… catch fireflies in a bug cage." He brought his thumbs together, creating the pit between his palms in much the same manner that I had. "They were so beautiful, that I wanted to bring them to my own home. Release them there… and exist with them. But by morning," He opened up his hands, as though releasing something from between them. "They were always dead."

Eyes shut; he tilted his head back so that the tears I could already see welling within them, would not fall across his cheeks. I thought my heart might break from being forced to bear witness to the sight of my dear friend, melting away from within.

"That's right, Tatsumi." I said, bowing my head in a short series of deep, slow nods. "Crickets or fireflies… it's no different for the most part. Free a cricket from its' box and there's a good chance it will die. But should you try to hold onto it… then there is no doubt that it will die."

Tatsumi tried to be strong but he could see that there was no more use in resisting my will. I had finally stumbled upon the words that he had already been convinced of; though perhaps in another place, with another scenario in his heart. Though it was cruel and heartless, it was the only sure way, out of the many thousands of variations to which our conversation might have led, which would have granted him opportunity to understand. Such was his love for me, his pure love for me laid bare, that no degree of reasoning to which I could attest, would allow him to see reason. He would not see reason as I had. Only if he too had once envisioned the rationalization, could he truly fathom my decisions as truth. To him, I suppose I shall always be a firefly in the black of night. No more. No less. But to take me out of that night and into the warmth of his security would only see my life prolonged in a state to which I was not fit to survive. A firefly only shines in the dark.

Tatsumi had no doubt found it immensely difficult to understand my actions. Not only in submitting to the will of Muraki but by in addition choosing him, for whatever means to which he might serve as my paramour. He could sense that I was troubled. He must have seen the love I held in my eyes for the person I had once hated so blindly that nothing had come close to even comparing to such passion. I didn't pretend to understand how this has all came to pass, even now, sitting here as I am, beside the man who has changed my life in such innumerable ways. But in that moment, on that day, Tatsumi and I came to an understanding between the two of us.

To see him smile after having maintained such grim features for so long almost caught me off guard. But it was not a loving smile. Rather, a grim acknowledgement of having been brought undone by his own disclosure.

"It was not so long ago, that I found myself thinking of such things. In Kanagawa." He now looked upon his hands with sadness. "I came to the conclusion that… there are things that exist, that are most beautiful when left in their own world'." His beautiful eyes rose from the elegant curl of his hands and swam into my own with such softness, I felt as though I were looking into the awning of a sapphire blue lake, born anew from the surrender of snow and ice, to warmer climes and changing worlds. Should a tear flow, it was of no concern anymore. Not now when the sky had opened and the final rain had descended upon us all.

"Tsuzuki," He said, so soft I thought that he had submerged the words beneath the persistent flowing river gushing forth from his soul. "I suppose in my heart of hearts, I have always known that you were one of these very things. I just… did not wish to see it. I hoped that it might… have been possible for you to exist this way with us. But all this time, it has been smothering you, hasn't it?" He put a hand to his chest as though listening to his heart. "Existence to you has been painful because a part of you has always been locked away. It's strange…" He slashed his hand across his face, trying desperately to hide the sorrow from his eyes. "In Kyoto, when I considered giving you over to death… it was not nearly quite so painful as the thought of where your feet might land, once I release you into the night."

"Let that be my responsibility for once, Tatsumi." I faced the window again, opening my arms wide so that the blanket fanned down from my fingers to the floor. The white shroud has many representations in its' form; that of life, in birth, that of death in the form of the shroud that covers the face. But in my case, I felt only freedom in that expression. White wings, something of which I could never hope to achieve. Not with my track record. But these were not the wings of the angelic, nor were they the gauze of innocence that draped the divine in passing. No, these were the symbols only, to present to any of whom looked upon me with fair and honoring eyes, that I was now a free man.

After ninety-seven years… I was free.

In light of such a compelling notion, do you honestly feel that glass could have stood in my way? You would be wrong to think so. Not when his Majesty Enma had failed to bear me down until my face had sloughed upon the ground.

Glass and tears. Cherry blossoms and fireflies. Tatsumi's pleading cries, Terazuma's angry exclamations and loudest of all, the roaring tide above it all, Hisoka's indomitable silence.

As soon as my broken body had renewed itself, the moment I took my first step towards the stairs leading down and out from the Ministry building, my title of Guardian had been compromised, perhaps indefinitely. Who was to say what would become of me? Would I die out here? Would I find what I was searching for and would I be happy when I did?

Only one thing was for certain. That the very first step I made from that glass-weathered path was into a night that parted for my light, for the very first time.

- XxXxXxXxXx -

Tokyo's weather had not improved since the morning. Rather it had considerably worsened. In the ten minutes it took me to run the few blocks to the hotel Sakura Zensen my clothes were soaked through and my hair plastered wet across my face and scalp. My bones, only just healed from my fall from grace (or less poetically, the Ministry's fourth floor window) ached as I forced them to continue moving. Arms and legs pumping, breaths racing from my mouth in a thick fog, I ran from my old life and into the uncertain night before me, not sure whether the wetness I felt upon my face was from the rain or the tears I'm sure must have been falling.

The receptionist holding fort at Sakura Zensen almost jumped clear of her skin as I came slamming through the front partition, as though Satan himself was hot on my heels. She actually stood up and peered in my wake with one hand on the phone, as though expecting some manner of monstrosity to barrel in behind me. Huffing, I waved a hand to assure her that my rude entrance was not due to my being pursued by Hell's chariots and she finally relaxed, sliding her perfectly manicured fingernails off of the phone and her backside back into the seat.

"Some… weather out there… huh?" I panted, shaking off my sopping jacket to demonstrate reasoning behind my gale force rush to get inside. She offered a curt smile that seemed to quaver when great puddles of water started to form on the linoleum beneath my feet. Had I not been in such a frantic state, I might have possessed the decency to offer to mop up my own mess before leaving but as it was, I doubted I had the time. Though Tatsumi had acknowledged my reasoning, I wasn't sure he would have been pleased by my particular choice of exit. Window repairs were expensive. And it was only so long until Enma found out about my little mutinous insurrection, so I felt it prudent to get as much distance between us as I was verily capable of.

"Well, have a good night." I said, stepping over to the elevator and then, thinking better of it, dashed over to the stairwell and slipped inside. The light above me flickered, reminding me uncannily of the lime green corridor in the Other Place but that was all the thought I gave it. I was only on the third floor and I was fit and healthy. No reason I couldn't take the stairs. It would save me time too, not having to wait for the car to hit the foyer.

Once I'd reached my floor, I dashed across the hall and unlocked the front door to my apartment, slipping inside as though hiding from some unseen pursuant. Glancing around the kitchen, I saw that Muraki had indeed tidied up before leaving that morning. The Formica counters were spotless, the titanium sink shining and the dishes all stacked away neatly. Quickly peeking into the bathroom assured me that the Superintendent must have let the workmen in that Muraki called that morning because the shower glass and door lock were both repaired. The full-length mirror had been replaced by an antique, which looked more expensive than everything else I owned added up. It might have seemed anal, which it was but having Muraki around was not unlike being married to a meticulous woman I would imagine. (Oh come on… I think that's fair to say!) He kept my place looking so neat and had he not have just jilted me, I could visualize myself coming home to a hot meal and a warm house. It was true he spoiled me. It didn't make up for any of his other vices but had he possessed none of these, he would have been the perfect partner. It made me sigh a little as I switched the bathroom light off and shut the door behind me. That was life I guess; you can only expect the unexpected. Had Muraki been a normal human being, he would no doubt have been unable to accept my past monstrosities with such ease. Would he have been able to love me the same way? Or was it only because we were both monsters that he was able to look at me with that desire burning in his one shining eye?

Well, it wasn't something I was ever likely to find out in any event. 'What ifs' are only a waste of time and time was one thing I presently didn't have on my side.

How I do love the sixties. (2)

I switched on the light in my bedroom (bed neatly made of course) and opened up the very cupboard, which Muraki had been hiding in that morning. Dammit, he had only been in my apartment once and yet everywhere I looked there were memories of him!

My travel case was stored in the top shelf and I pulled it out as carefully as I could, removing a pair of shoes I'd obviously forgotten about on my last trip. Not really paying attention to any particular item, I packed a heap of essentials in every nook and cranny, remembering my mobile phone charger and toothbrush at the last second. I was just wheeling the damn thing out the door when I remembered that I'd forgotten to pack a single article of underwear and was forced to retrace my steps all the way back to the bedroom. While I squeezed my undergarments in every which way, I called for a taxi, urging the company to send one as soon as was reasonably possible. The nice gentleman on the other end of the line assured me that he could have one there in the next ten minutes and I thanked him enthusiastically before hanging up. Having a bit of time on my hands gave me a chance to think about what other belongings I might take and after some consideration added some books, Kazusa's toys and the photo of my colleagues, whom I was probably likely to not see for a very long time now. I then left my apartment, locked the door behind me and took my suitcase down in the elevator to the foyer. Granted, I received another strange look from the receptionist when I nearly burst into tears, thinking I might never bid her a good morning or a good night again. You must understand how very emotional this all was for me! My entire existence was turning about to take a whole new direction, after so long of heading full steam ahead towards the safe and comfortable route. Small pleasures and secured benefits was not the kind of happiness that can sustain a person indefinitely however. I no longer wanted to feel myself bereft of these things others could so easily obtain. To do what others did by natural instinct would require something a little more spectacular on my behalf and that's exactly what it would take to point my old shoes in that new direction.

The taxi arrived after only five minutes of waiting and the driver helped me load my suitcase into the trunk of the car. He seemed a jolly fellow with a small, round face and wide eyes that he didn't blink much but that is all I can really remember about him. He was another fleeting face in the kaleidoscope of my mind; another sunset, another postcard. I told him the address of my new direction as I buckled in and he assured me that he was familiar with that area of town. I recall that he tried more than once to engage me in conversation during the drive but I was distracted, eyes trained on the streaming lights of the houses that blew past without pause. Now that my momentum had stalled (my personal momentum that is) I was only now starting to concern myself with my actions and a small seed of doubt was insistently attempting to take root in the pit of my stomach. I tried to be nice and answer all the drivers' questions but eventually he saw that my heart wasn't in it and fell silent, turning up the radio so that it would not seem too awkward.

A half hour later, the cab pulled up by the curb of Muraki Manor, rising white and tall and imposing into the darkness of the night that in turn seemed to rush forward to meet it. It seemed telling somehow, a sign from the gods to prove that I was following in that direction of which was intended for me.

I paid the driver the fare owed and thanked him with a series of deep bows, gushing how grateful I was for him to come out of his way like this. He smiled, as though entertaining the whimsy of a child and then popped the trunk so that I could remove my suitcase. At long last, I was left alone by the gates to the place I could only hope I would be permitted to call home, at least for a while. It wasn't as though I had anyone else to go. I couldn't stay in Sakura Zensen, which was owned by the Ministry. I couldn't go to some other hotel and stay indefinitely because my funds would not allow for it, not even a cheap place. And I didn't know Oriya Mibu at the time, so showing up at Kyoto and asking Watari if I could bunk down there for a while was out of the question, though I'm sure he would have argued my case for me.

Besides, Muraki was central to my plans. It would kind of defeat the purpose should I have gone elsewhere, other than straight to him.

I suppose a phone call to forewarn him of my presence would have been the considerate thing to do but I didn't actually have Muraki's phone number. Whenever we had talked on the phone, it had always been him doing the dialing and me doing the listening and or cursing. There was little I could do but simply turn up and hope he would let me in. I was almost one hundred percent certain he would, uncustomary as my running to him and not from him was. Perhaps he would be so shocked by this development he would have little choice but to open the gates, simply to get a better look. And if worse came to worse, I could always vault the stupid wall. I was a Guardian of Death after all. There wasn't much that could keep us out, once we'd made up our minds to get in.

Sodden with the weight of the rain and the depth of my thoughts, I pressed one dripping finger to the 'Talk' button on the intercom and keeping it depressed, leaned in close to speak. My voice quavered for a moment and I had to pause to clear my throat before continuing to speak.

"Is Kazutaka… Muraki there… please?" It came out in a rough, scratchy whisper anyway, so I couldn't see the point in my having cleared it in the first place. I released the 'Talk' button for a moment so that I could hear any response I might get.

A woman's voice eventually answered. "Who's calling please?"

I swallowed back a heavy lump that was working hard to take up shelter in the center of my throat and pressed the Talk button again. "Tell him… tell him that Asato Tsuzuki is out the front… please? Ask him if he will let me in."

The woman's voice, perhaps his housekeeper though I can't say I ever found out for sure, came back sounding gruff and tired. "The doctor is out at the moment. He instructed that I was to let no one in whilst he was absent."

"Um… excuse me, madam?" I leaned closer, as though it were actually her ear into which I was speaking, rather than the intercom. "Do you know where he has gone? I need to speak with him, quite urgently you see."

"You may speak with him when he returns. He did however confide that he had no further desire to see you Mr. Tsuzuki, so whether he chooses to speak with you is not something I can guarantee." Her firm voice left and no further amount of prompting from me could regain her attention.

Had Muraki actually told her this? Had he actually spoken to his staff and told them not to let me in to see him or speak to him? Was he up in the Main house right now, fully aware that I was down here by the gates, desperate to look upon his face, feel the steady rise of his chest against mine and his soft, perpetually cool lips shifting along my own?

I tried in vain to vault the fence, just to see if I could but as per my very own instructions that afternoon, Muraki had reinstated his protective barriers and I had not the will to negotiate them any more than this one slack attempt. I bounced off and landed hard on my backside in a puddle and I was suddenly reminded of a similar situation in which I had found myself face down in a gutter, only two weeks ago. Muraki had stepped back into my own life, just as I had been considering what a debacle it was and gave me a purpose to bear forward. I hadn't seen it that way at the time but Muraki became for me the calm I had sought for so long. I didn't have to pretend to be anything better than what I was around him. I didn't stress over the terrible things I had done because in his presence nothing I had done could even measure up. I didn't care whether he judged me. I didn't care if he saw the blood beneath my nails, so to speak. With him, I was comfortable in that much at least.

And I knew then that all I really wanted was to be with him. Just him and no one else. And despite all that had fallen between us, that I was glad to have had the chance to know him. I regretted only the pain that knowing him had caused other people and regretted nothing for myself. No longer did I have any doubt that it was God's intention to bring us both together and as such only something good could surmount from it.

On a very similar rainy night, that long fortnight past, I recalled vivid thoughts about the people we pass in life and how our memories create a photo album in our minds. Some people stand only in the background and their faces never make any sort of particular impact. Others, you deliberately aim the camera towards because perhaps you love them and want to take their picture. Friends, family, colleagues, lovers, those sorts of people. Always in the foreground. Always in focus.

Having met Muraki that very first time, his was a face that was never out of focus in the photo album of my memories. Before I even knew his name, his was the face to which the camera turned to capture every time we were together. And those people that are of value to us, we provide with a proof of our affection.

Had Muraki not turned out to be a murdering degenerate, I would have sent him a postcard. We could have had sunsets together. Taken pictures that lasted a lifetime in both mind and print. I could have taken him out to dinner with all of my friends and he too could have established bonds with them. Well… perhaps not Tatsumi. I'm not sure that the two of them could have ever gotten along, not in any walk of life. They're far too much alike for that!

We could have moved in together and I could have taken care of the garden for him. I would plant tulips and raise them until they were tall and strong, something I hadn't done since leaving my last home and moving to the Sakura Zensen were a window box was hardly satisfactory conditions to conduct any sort of gardening endeavor. We could have watched movies together every night and not have to concern ourselves with anyone catching us together. And we could have made love. Even in the rain, I could feel my face growing hot from my audacious thoughts because it was apparent to me now more than ever before that initiating sex with Muraki was something I desperately desired. To see the look on his face as I assumed control, perhaps demonstrating unexpected confidence by grasping that thick hank of heat between his legs and then lowering myself onto it, feeling it stretch and fill and destroy me. I wanted to feel him make claim to me and I in return, particularly after the egotistical show of Enma and the Count's. I wanted more than ever to do as they feared I would and make Muraki master of all that came part in parcel with me. I wanted to leave little marks upon his neck, marks he couldn't leave upon mine because of my healing ability and bruise his flesh with proof of my passion. I wanted him to kiss and suck my mouth, caress my tongue with his own and slide those delicate eyeteeth into the skin of my neck as he came, rupturing my innocence and flesh in the one mesmeric act.

I wanted him to lay siege to me, as no one had ever done before and in so doing end this fools game of trying to claim the end of my Lead.

I could have become quite good at the sex thing too, if Muraki had but given me the chance to learn. It would have been easy… because the first time I saw him, it's true that I thought him beautiful, unlike any man I had ever seen before. Not because he was perhaps the most handsome, or the tallest, or the trimmest or whatever it is that contemporary standards of beauty are judged by but because he was so different to everyone else. No one else had hair that color, or eyes that somber. No one looked at me with such a beguiling expression. There was none other whom possessed skin so soft yet cool to the touch, no one whose voice stirred the depths of my tiding ardor and whom kissed me at times with such ravenous ferocity you might have thought it was going out of fashion but could in the same breath tease the hairs of my skin with his lips so tenderly that a very human chill would trace up this long dead creatures spine.

Lord, how he'd plundered me! He made my very essence ache for the dread horror that my soul might never be redeemed, divided as I was over this angelically evil man.

On that first day we had met, until he'd starting spouting creepy shit about the weakness of the human race, I myself had been especially cautious as to how I phrased my speech. Muraki was a doctor and clearly an upper class gentleman and I'd been trying so desperately not to embarrass myself that I could barely think about anything else!

Because I had wanted him to like me. I was hoping that after we had taken care of the little girl (and before I got back to murdering Hisoka for missing our lunch date) that we would go for a cup of coffee and just talk. We might have even got as far as dinner! I was hoping he would want to see me again and not because he planned to use my body in some illogical cloning experiment but for a more simple reason. Because he thought I was cute. He didn't wear a band on his ring finger, not even to indicate that he was engaged, so I'd let myself get carried away with the thought that I might have had a shot. Because… well, let's face it; as far as guys go, Muraki is one of the more good looking ones. Or as the young folk might say; he was hot. Not to mention he was smart and well dressed and his manners outside of the murdering thing were really rather good. The eyeball I'll admit doesn't do much for me but… at the time my only thought was that if he was indeed missing an eye, it probably meant he was a little more vulnerable due to his altered appearance and if possible, it made him seem even more attractive, as a result.

At that first meeting, Muraki was the first man in a very long time that I had actually found myself interested in. Then of course he had to ruin all that by becoming one of the greatest threats I had ever known and in addition being the cause of my partner's death and the death's of a lot of other people beside.

But I couldn't keep thinking such things anymore. It wasn't fair on Muraki; laugh as you might to hear such words. Had that curse fallen upon anyone else who had been tormented in his or her childhood the same way that Muraki had, then they themselves may have become just as bad if not worse than him. It was this curse that was to blame and Muraki was only one of many victims, who might very well be horrified in the event that I might successfully release him from it. I liked to think that I had seen the true Muraki; the one not affected by the curse and it was this base person, not the murderer, whom I had fallen in love with.

I left my suitcase in the shelter and instead interred myself within the embrace of the downpour, blinking dripping lashes at the impenetrably blackness scouring the sky as far as the eye could see. Not a star shone in the darkness, not a firefly and not a light. No crickets sang. I could feel my own glow seeming to extinguish in the tears, as though all the Heavens were weeping at my predictable plight. I could almost imagine the steam rising up off of my body, the foreclosure of my forward momentum coming to a grinding halt at last.

One drunken night when Watari and I had retired to my apartment to finish off the revelry with a couple of beers and a D and M, he knocked my sideways by posing a rather interesting theory of the human condition, that I haven't failed to forget despite how drunk I was at the time.

He took my own musings on the unnatural suspension of the cherry blossom trees in the grounds of the Ministry of Hades to enforce his point. Human beings, he told me, were the product of lives lived in never faltering, ceaseless locomotion. Of forward momentum, even if we were to move in the reverse or to the side or up or down. Regardless of what direction we take, we are defined by that continuing movement and systematically encode our lives with the beat of that flow. The blood in our veins, the breath in our lungs and the steps of our feet all correspond to a continued, never ceasing forward thrust, that turns the great mechanics of the universal machine and negotiates the flow of time itself. It is provisionary there go that transience in all things, is of equal importance. It is the very nature that governs us and through which we define ourselves.

He spoke of an obscure pre-Socratic philosopher by the name of Zeno, who surmised that the act of locomotion itself, of forward progression, was in and of itself nothing more substantial than illusion in the very act. But Watari himself felt that this was an incorrect standpoint and that the power of forward motion was vital to the sustaining of all things.

All life exists in flux. Holding onto the cherry blossoms and sustaining life when that life has already faltered, is like kick starting an old gear in the works that ought really to be replaced. We both agreed, that drunken night, that perhaps our very being there was as wrong as the elongated life of the Sakura flowers. To propose that all existence is centered within a Universal machine, should the old gears be kick started over and over and never replaced, the whole thing is affected and the momentum of the entire world comes to slow down and indeed falter as a result. Momentum therefore is not illusion but the most powerful force that governs us.

There are even some languages out there that make very distinct differences in the way in which they describe things. In Japan, it is difficult to distinguish a hotel from the hotel, for example. Ours is not a complex language if it need not ought be. But older tribal races had words not just to define different things but different states as well. They even have words to differentiate between an object that is at motion and one that is not. Through which we might interpret, that the object in their language is indeed defined by its' movement and if it stops, then it is called something else entirely. A different name is used to describe it and it is no longer that which it was when it was traveling forward.

Standing there before the gates of Muraki manor, I came to realize just how delicate the human condition was. My momentum had carried me this far but could carry me no further. There was no going forward and it was too late to retreat. I'd effectively run out of steam and whatever I had been defined as whilst running towards Muraki was not who I was any longer. Once momentum has ceased, we can no longer be defined by it. By the time we stop moving, we cease to exist.

Such thoughts sorrowed me, so I can't imagine how my face must have looked, when caught in the headlights of the car that had just ascended the prominence to my left. I titled my head sidelong to take it in, not particularly concerned but drawn nonetheless by the glow that fell upon me; a glow similar to that which I had hoped would soon define myself.

I suppose the driver was startled by the intensity of my features because the next thing I knew, they were slamming on the brake and swerving into the curb beside me. Water lapped around my already sodden pant hems but I had barely a moment to reflect on it before the car door had flung open and Kazutaka Muraki rose up to meet me.

The look in his visible eye was clearly troubled as he took me by the shoulders and looked me over, side to side and up and down. I heard him sigh, as though relieved that some fear he'd had did not come to pass.

"So it's you," He said, which I found a little ungrateful considering all the Hell I'd gone through to get here. "When I saw you standing in the rain… you looked so much like… Oh, never mind." He shook his hair, already doused flat by the rain and flashed me an insolent look, as though I were a child caught in the out of bounds area by a teacher. "What are you doing here, Mr. Tsuzuki?"

I pinched my eyes close in anger and said at length, "What do you suppose I'm doing here?" It was very soft and didn't sound nearly as angry to me as my face no doubt presented. Muraki didn't answer for a while but calmly watched me as the rain drenched us through, flattening hair and shirts and beading small drops upon his glasses that reflected a thousand sorrowful faces of me.

He sighed deeply, his own eye narrowing though not in anger. It made him look thoughtful rather and or perhaps a little dreamy. "I imagine you are here because you have come to realize something about yourself that I had known a long time ago."

"Which is?" I asked, as he brushed a strand of wet hair behind my ear, his fingers coming to rest beneath my chin, his thumb brushing across it.

He smiled a little, almost teasing. "That you were trapped. And that you were being smothered where you were and that if you didn't escape, you would eventually die. It's a testament to your strength that you have survived for so long, when inside you've no doubt been screaming for a better solution."

I gazed upon him with sadness. Sadness for myself, that I had not been able to figure such things out on my own and sadness for Muraki, being the only one capable of having done so.

"Is that how it is?" I whispered as he caressed the ridges of his fingers across my cheek. He gave the smallest of nods, barely a millimeter dip of his chin. We hadn't yet removed our eyes from each other's and I thought not even a meteor dropping down beside us could have broken our connection.

"I think you're here because you are done with being saved." He said, a bead of water dripping down off of the tip of his nose. I found myself wanting to catch it, to sample anything that had been in contact with that beautiful, enamoring skin. He too looked upon me with eyes all too thirsty and not for the gallons of water that had already fallen down upon us. I could see it in his eyes that he wanted to bear me down without my clothes and raze my body with those pale pink lips and tongue. For starters. "Because I might have done that very thing for you today, Mr. Tsuzuki. By stepping out of your life and releasing you, you would have been spared from me. The only possible reason you could be standing here before me right now is because you've made that decision for yourself. And for the first time in almost a century, you are free."

I took his hand between my own, feeling it tremble and finding myself overwrought with desire for him. I'd never felt Muraki shake before. It made me want to do the very same; to open myself up to him, body and soul and let him plunder me until my body shivered to its' very foundations.

"Do you… want me to go?" I asked, thinking of what his housekeeper had said to me over the intercom. I felt great relief to see Muraki turn his head from side to side.

"No." He said, voice husky and deep with passion I'd never before seen quite so palpable. His thumb moved up to stroke my cheek and then his other hand, so that my entire face was supported by his palms. I felt warmth from them seep into my skin. "Never again." He kissed my forehead, my left eye, my cheek, one after the other and then my neck, languishing attention on my earlobe, clearly to remind me of that evening onboard the Queen Camellia when he'd come close to winning my favor for the entire night. I used to look back on that with relief; relief that Hisoka had stepped up in time to prevent it from happening. Now, I couldn't help but think of how dangerous and erotic the whole thing was. No doubt I would have enjoyed it given time to adjust but even then, it would have happened with a person that I did not love, which is against my highest principles.

But now… now I knew without doubt that I did love Muraki. And if I were to go to bed with him, it would have been for the right reasons. I would have waited for the right moment.

And after ninety-seven years, that kind of waiting is not easy. You're ready to just about fall in love with anyone, let me tell ya!

"That's good." I whispered, tilting my head a little, so that my mouth landed on his ear. "Because I wasn't planning to." I kissed the shell softly, giving it a little suckle that paused Muraki to stop in his own attentions. "You and I have an en Muraki. I suppose in my heart I have always known this."

The en is a our Japanese word to indicate a 'connection' or 'bond' between two people and most often employs the use of a simile for this connection, as a pot taking shape upon a potters wheel. All people we come into contact with during the course of our lives make finger marks; some are shallower than others, whilst many are simple grazes or perhaps only a half fingerprint. Others leave deeper, more profound markings that cut deep and can never be successfully smoothed out. Muraki had left this same impression upon me. He would always be present in the tableau that was my existence; a figure in the foreground and never out of focus. In Western civilizations the closest similarity I suppose would be a soulmate. It is that self same sense of the eternal bond that ties two spirits together in the center and can never be untangled.

He was close enough for me to reach his jacket and I deftly unwove the buttons, ripping the halves open in order to let the rain soak through. I watched with great anticipation as the thin material of his shirt clung to his chest, the combination of the cold air and moisture causing his nipples to peak hard and eager. I could see them through the material and my hormones stirred so majestically, that I didn't catch myself in time to stop that manic urge to run my fingers over them, caressing the shirt material against the pale little nubs, as Muraki's upper torso emitted an odd little quake.

He slowly raised his lips from my neck and brought his face up until it was pointed directly down towards mine. We looked into one another, each searching for a lie, each hoping for the truth. I suppose in the end we adequately met one another's expectations because a second later, he was over by the gate, picking up my bag and bringing it over to the car. He looked down at it, then back at me with a smile.

"Terribly presumptuous, Mr. Tsuzuki." He said, giving it a little shake. "You seemed confident that I would let you stay."

I gave a little shrug as I took the suitcase off of him and slid it into the backseat of the car. "Don't pretend that doesn't make you happy."

He came up behind me and pressed his lips against the back of my neck, stirring the little hairs there with his warm breath. "You have no idea."

XxXxXxXxXx –

Muraki drove us to the house and helped me bring my suitcase up the stairs to his room, where he ordered that I strip off my wet clothes and change into the proffered yukata he offered me from the wardrobe.

He ran the bath while I did this and then went downstairs to bring some supplies upstairs to make me a cup of tea. I watched him as he dallied about by the credenza, having shed his own clothes for a yukata also. I had a sudden thought, which I felt really ought be addressed before I came off looking like an altogether insensitive cad.

"You were at the hospital, right?" I asked, accepting the cup of tea and then blowing gently on the surface to cool the liquid enough to drink. "Seeing Ukyou?"

He sat down next to me, nursing his own cup and nodded. "Yes indeed."

"How is she?"

He sighed deeply, somnolently, as he added another cube of sugar to his tea and then stirred it, though without really seeing it. "Very ill, as you can imagine. She lost a lot of blood and the sternocleidomastoid muscles on the left side of her neck were badly damaged."

"What does that mean?" I asked, hoping it was something that could be treated. Muraki pointed to his own neck as he moved his head from side to side, around and up and down.

"The sternocleidomastoid muscles work through contraction. You contract one muscle; it rotates the face towards the opposite side and tilts the head towards the shoulder of the same side. It makes these sorts of movements possible." He lowered his face back towards his tea and held the cup gently in both hands. "There's extensive tissue damage, not to mention the fact that she was raped. I recovered a few hairs left behind by whoever did it and am preserving them for use as evidence, if we should need it. Since there's little doubt that the rapist neglected to use a condom, there's likelihood that Ukyou might fall pregnant. A blood test showed that she was ovulating at the time of the attack. Jesus Christ… what a mess." He rubbed the bridge of his nose for a second, seeming immeasurably tired but stopped when he saw me looking on with concern. "Suffice to say, she's in no fit shape to speak at the moment. I only had enough time to enquire as to whether or not she remembered anything. She indicated that she hadn't, which might be a good thing considering." He left it at that but I got his meaning all the same.

"But… bad if you should fall under fire." I reached over and placed my fingers around his wrist, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand. He smiled at me, shamefaced.

"Well, I can't worry about that. Ukyou's going to need me more than ever in the next few weeks." He was looking at me, as though it just suddenly came to mind that he should kiss me and he leaned over, placing his tea on the credenza and only got so far before my hand met him halfway there.

"I just… want to establish something." I said, trying not to laugh at the expression on his face. I put my own tea down and faced him as best I could without the yukata affording him too much of a glimpse. "Not four hours ago, you were ready to forsake me forever. It didn't seem to matter to you then what might happen to me should you nick off for good."

Muraki arched a perfect silver brow. "Forsake you forever?" He chuckled with stunned amusement. "What on earth gave you such a stupid idea?"

I stared at him, unable to comprehend what I was hearing. "'What gave me such a –' Are you completely mental?! Listen to yourself! You said when next we met, we would be enemies!"

"You said it yourself, Mr. Tsuzuki." He retrieved his tea and took a quick, scalding chug from it. "That you're tired of being saved by everyone around you. The only sure way that I could save you was by putting you in a situation where you had to make a choice for yourself. Had I of taken you away, saved you, brought you here of my own will, it would always remain entirely my fault. I would always be the one to blame, in their eyes as well as your own." He shook one finger teasingly in my face. "Not my responsibility anymore, Mr. Tsuzuki. Not anyone's. Only your own. In doing so, you have come to me of your own accord and convinced both yourself and myself of your true feelings. It was the only way."

I could see the truth in his words as it was only hours previous that I had thought of such things myself. But it hardly dissuaded from the fact that he had bitterly wounded me by his actions and I wanted him to be held accountable for it. I suppose he could see that from the look in my eyes because he sighed and set his teacup down again.

"All right then. I can see that you are unsatisfied by this. If it is the whole uncensored truth that you desire, far be it from me to deny you of it." He linked his hands together and set them down on his raised knee, watching me as though I were the one of great interest. "You, my dear, have become to me what is widely regarded as an Achilles. Do you know of what I speak?"

I assumed that he meant Achilles, as in the Greek hero who was only stopped when shot in the tendon of his ankle of the same name by a Trojan prince. In that vein, I interpreted his meaning as a vulnerability. "Achilles… as in a weakness, right?"

He nodded deeply, eyes shut to momentarily contemplate his next words. "That's right. Not just to others but to myself as well." His eyelashes fluttered apart to reveal a burning, despairing ember buried deep within his soul. "I brought you back into my life with only one intention, Mr. Tsuzuki. To destroy you."

My eyes widened but Muraki didn't stop. The words kept flowing as though he prayed that in saying them faster, they would hurt me less, ironically enough.

"To do as I did this day and see you despair with nothing to fall back upon. Wrought and defenseless, despairing and desperate. So that I might abandon all my feelings for you, that I have suffered with since childhood and finally be free. To make you love me and then give you up… it's the one power I have truly wanted for so long. And today, I finally had it."

Blood roared between my ears and before I could stop it my emotions exploded forward and tears were streaming down my face. I was so stunned, so obliquely shocked that I put my back to him, turning around and curling up in order to bring my cheek down against the pillow, muffling my sobs into the cream fleshed casing.

"So all this time… you did mean to hurt me!" I whimpered, rubbing the back of my hand hurriedly over my eyes. The entire reality of what I had done seemed to hit me then and I was suddenly and unaccountably terrified. What Muraki had just admitted had put everything into perspective for me. I was alone. He was the one person I was depending on to provide me sanctuary from those people that I loved. I had played directly into his hands; fallen hook line and sinker! And I understood how oblivious I had been and the precarious situation into which I had so casually entered. "I… should have known better…"

I felt, as much as saw his shadow as he leaned over me, blocking the light. "I didn't want to admit it... I would have given anything if I could have hated you. If the sight of you crying by my gates in the rain made me laugh instead of weep... The truth was... at that very moment, it was myself I hated." His voice cracked a little, lost its' hard edge. "I hate my weakness. I hate my inability to fling you away, as I would any other doll. And the only thing that I can despise you for is that I love you with all my heart."

The right side of my face was now deeply saturated by the tears coursing down from my eyes. That felt warm beneath the emotional onslaught. "You bastard... you could leave me to die from the pain of my tears and now you come crawling, spouting declarations of love? You did that before... and then turned around and tried to tear my head from my neck. The only difference now is that it is my heart you have cut out. You've broken it." I didn't move but swiveled my eyes so that I could draw him into my peripheral vision. "You've broken ME. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted?"

I could see his false eye shining in the dim light. "... Yes. And I'm heart sick with it. That here I have you shattered like the porcelain moon and it makes me want to cry as I have never done before. I must be in love... to hate myself so passionately..." His body was poised over mine, his tongue and cool soft lips picking their way across my face, siphoning off the tears that continued to run. Not yet prepared to forsake myself entirely, I ducked away and rolled over on the bed, pulling a pillow in tightly against my chest. A small flash of anger was beginning to stir in me.

"I have abandoned those that needed me... and I was fool enough to believe that you needed me..."

The bed creaked under Muraki's weight as he lowered himself down behind me, arms sliding about my body and scooping me in against the line of his torso.

"The greater fool was me..." He said, chin trailing through the weaves of my still damp hair. "Me who thought I didn't need you and I could free myself from you. ... But I can't..." Though my hair was still drying, I could still fear the tears falling from Muraki's eye against the flesh of my scalp. "I no longer merely want you... not this body alone. I desire more; these tears... that smile... your laughter... your soul, your heart... I want all of it. ... I need you..."

I continued to sob, so utterly lost to myself. "I should just slice my wrists back open... everyone hates me because of you! I wanna die again! I want to be dead!!"

"Then I'll die too. I can't let you leave me... I can't ever be without you, not now, my darling." He kissed the side of my face and held me tight, until I could finally accept the sincerity of his body, even if I felt that his words were false. It was true that I needed him and should he have died, I would want to go with him too. It was these thoughts that lingered in my mind as I finally rolled over and pressed our tear stained faces together, lips hurriedly seeking out one another's touch. His arm came up and over to allow me to move in closer, scooping me in tightly as his lips devoured mine with unabashed desire, bare legs twining, fingers slipping here and there into places coveted. Places secretive. As my passions burgeoned violently, I could sense that things were taking a turn into the uncontrolled and I forcefully bought my mouth away, pressing my hands to Muraki's chest to hold him back. I stifled a small moan at bearing witness to the hunger in his eyes, as he silently implored me to fill that space between us and continue ever onward into that heightened world of exotic pleasures.

"You ran the bath…" I murmured, sliding my legs free and sitting up. His eyes darted briefly downward, clueing me in to the current state of my yukata. Blushing, I cinched it more tightly about my legs and swung them over the side of the bed, standing up. "I'm going to go wash… I want to be clean." I realize how stupid this sounded, considering the turn our evening had been just about to take. "And I want to think. You should get washed up to." I waved a hand at the urgent look on his face. "It's okay. I'll still be here when you're done. God knows I haven't got anywhere else to go."

Muraki nodded and climbed off of the bed, taking his cup of tea with him as he moved towards the door. "As you wish, Mr. Tsuzuki. Take your time." He didn't seem terribly disappointed by the delay but in adverse, seemed rather careless about the whole thing. I could only imagine why. Like I said, I wasn't going anywhere, so what good came from rushing?

After he'd left, I retrieved a pair of pajamas from my suitcase and relaxed in the warm water of the bath for a while. For some reason, Muraki had taken it upon himself to add some aromatic blend, so by the time I climbed out, I smelt like an odd mixture of lilacs and vanilla. Which wasn't too bad as far as I'm concerned but it sure as Hell added to the camp factor.

I changed into my favored pair of Chinese styled pajamas and stepped out of the mist filled bathroom, switching off the lights as I went. My suitcase was still sitting by Muraki's bed where I had left it and I felt a strange pang of excitement jolt through me, acknowledgement of this dramatic action I was taking. Be it good or bad in the long run, it was a shake up from my regular routine and I was enjoying it immensely.

I wasn't sure how long I would be staying with Muraki but I was enjoying this spur of the moment decision I had made. I'd never lived with a partner before; save the few occasions I had stayed over at Aki's but then, we had never moved in together. And Watari and I may have slept over at one another's places when we had been too drunk to make other alternative arrangements but that was different. We were friends and we usually fell asleep in our clothes anyway. This was… scary. But fun. I'd packed up my suitcase with most of my most treasured belongings; stuffed underwear, clothing and condiments in every which way and flown my butt over here. Playing it by ear… it gave me the illusion of being alive.

I knelt down and unzipped my suitcase, deciding that I would arrange myself a little more comfortably. I was no doubt going to be staying with Muraki for some time now and I hardly felt the need to go living out of a suitcase any longer then I had to.

I had only packed casual clothes (I had clearly lost my job at the Ministry by this stage and I wasn't about to go wearing any of my suits around just for the hell of it) and these I folded up in my unique interpretation of 'neatly' and carried them over to the cabinet on the right hand side of the bed. (I'd found my picture in the cabinet to the left of Muraki's bed, so I wagered that this was the one he primarily used to his own convenience.) True enough, the drawers were all almost completely empty and I squeezed my small stash of t-shirts, trousers, shorts, jumpers and underpants inside, leaving my two favorite pairs of shoes underneath the bed. I returned to the suitcase and unpacked the books I had thrown in at the last minute, placing them towering on the left side cabinet. The novel I was currently in the midst of reading was balanced precariously on the top; the pages dog-eared from my many previous attempts to get through it. (I'm not a fast reader and I tended to loose interest after a while, only to return later and read the same chapters over and over again). I unpacked some socks, the gifts that Pandora/Saki had given me, the diary, my trenchcoat, (which I hung up beside Muraki's numerous white jackets in the closet) Kazusa's left over toys and my mobile phone and charger, which I immediately plugged into the power point and arranged over my (it was clearly mine now) side of the bed. The stuffed toys I arranged at the foot of the mattress, where they stared up at me with doleful eyes. I gave them an approving look and then turned my gaze to take in the rest of the room, feeling that I had made it just that little more Tsuzuki.

So, it wasn't my cup of tea. Too neat. Too big. Didn't feel the least bit cozy. But it was getting there. I was sure I'd have plenty of time to rearrange everything to my liking over the next few weeks. (Le sigh.)

I switched off the main lights and turned on the bedside lanterns, casting the room into dim and gentle shadows. I wanted to switch on the television whilst I waited for Muraki to come back but knew that I would be too nervous to concentrate on anything that I attempted to watch. So I perched myself in the center of the bed, legs crossed and reading glasses balanced on the crook of my nose, making a feeble, light hearted attempt to negotiate my way through the next chapter of my novel. I usually try and avoid romance stories because the characters in the books seem to have more fun in the first five chapters, than I have had in my entire life. Chalk it up to sour grapes, if you must but I find it decidedly difficult to relate to what was going on and as such, really couldn't connect with the story. Tonight was no exception but my attention was wavering for an entirely different reason. I think I knew in my heart of hearts what to expect but I wasn't ready to admit it to myself, so I kept such assumptions at bay.

I glanced up as the door creaked open and Muraki slid into the room, dressed in the same thin yukata I had seen him wearing the night he had come back into my afterlife. He was wearing his glasses still but he'd since tidied up a little and brushed his hair. His cheeks were slightly rosy from the hot water in the shower and he had a bottle of red wine clutched about the neck in one hand; two wine glasses in the other.

He smiled at me serenely as I put my novel down and made to take my reading glasses off.

"Don't," He urged, coming towards the bed and setting the glasses down on the left hand cabinet. "You look lovely. I don't think I've ever seen you wearing glasses before, Mr. Tsuzuki."

I stuck my tongue out tartly at him. "I only wear them to help me read. I am an old man you know."

Muraki chuckled throatily. "So you are, so you are." He poured me a tall glass of wine (good, he was learning how to make proper measurements with these things) and passed it over before proceeding to pour his own. "Might I declare an impromptu toast, in light of this most unanticipated development?"

"Toast away." I beguiled, taking a deep, heady sniff from the surface of the wine. The scent was aged, matured and delicious. This was not a cheap bouquet to say the least.

Muraki's smile didn't waver as he lifted his glass subtly. "Here's to… the sincerity of one's self. The courage to face the truth and come to terms with that, which has terrified you since your childhood. I can only honor you, Mr. Tsuzuki. For being a stronger man than I."

I felt my eyes crinkle at the sides and my heart cinch painfully at his words and rather than taking a sip of my wine, I set it down and leaned up off of the mattress to clasp Muraki's spare hand in mine.

"Come here." I urged, gently encouraging him to sit upon the bed. His smile relaxing, he turned about and slid his bottom up onto the sheets, moving backwards until I was content that there was enough space for me to climb into his lap, pulling his spare arm around my waist. I held my face up to his; waiting for him to register my muted request and his eye met mine, when he finally caught on to the alignment of our chins. I parted my lips and he hesitated for only a second before placing his own upon mine, sucking my upper lip in tight. We parted just long enough to readjust the direction of our kiss and I opened my mouth just a little bit wider as I reapplied my lips to his, knowing instinctively that his tongue was going to dive inside before it did. Kissing like this, with that hot probing muscle stroking mine over and above, made me feel like a teenager; younger and sexy than I actually was. I cupped Muraki's cheek with my hand, feeling the softness of his skin as well as the strong comforting contours of his jaw line, shifting beneath the expanse of flesh and arteries. For the first time since we had been together, I finally felt as though everything were all right. I had admitted my feelings to more than just Muraki and my fellow Guardians of Death; most importantly, I had admitted them to myself and only then had I truly been free.

A small tear rolled down my cheek and I separated from the kiss with a tiny whimper, stroking Muraki's face desperately, honestly and nestled my cheek against the cool clean skin of his neck, closing my eyes and feasting in the bittersweet resolve of my new direction.

"I told you…" I whispered against his skin. "I'm no better than you. I'm tired of judging, judging, judging… my job description was to wrangle the souls in and there I was… pretending that I was so much better than you… It wasn't fair."

"There is no fair in cases such as mine," Muraki established, not untruthfully. I sighed, feeling my chest tighten with anxiety again.

"I'm not up for getting all philosophical with things tonight." I established, with a firm sense of finality. I shucked free of Muraki's hold and reached over to procure my glass of wine. It was heady and saturated in the taste of cedar and liberty. "It's been a long day and tomorrow my whole existence is going to change; possibly for the worse. So tonight, I want to try and enjoy myself." I gulped my wine down and refilled my glass, not missing Muraki's disapproving expression. "Oh, put your eyebrows down!" I scolded, hardly in the mood for putting up with a lecture and from Muraki no less! "I just said, didn't I, that I was up for enjoying myself tonight and seeing as how I don't have to go into work tomorrow, I might as well have a lousy hangover for all the harm it'll cause me."

Muraki just smiled as if to say he expected nothing more from me and then rose to his feet, moving towards the bay windows with his wine glass reflecting the small shards of light from the bedside lanterns. A sustained but comfortable silence fell between us, me steadily gulping down my wine (attempting to distill my residual bought of nervousness with numbing alcohol), Muraki stealing open the doors into the night, surveying the lights of the city and the ever darkening shadows. Were the other Guardians out there even now? Circling beyond the fair walls, cursing my name and questioning my soul? Tatsumi maybe. Hisoka seemed to have made peace with my decisions and would only probably experience a profound sense of sadness. The others? I doubted it. It was of no particular matter to them where lay my body during the noontime passing. Nor my loyalty; so to speak. Wakaba I knew would miss me, as would Saya and Yuma. Terazuma… who could say for certain? He acted as though he did not like me but in his heart (and mine also) there was a depth of respect and admiration there that neither would admit to and neither would openly acknowledge. A space would be left forever suspended between us; a bitter space perhaps, a space riddled by uncertainty and contest. And Mr. Konoe… At the thought of him, of those weathered and somehow reassuring features, my chest clinched painfully and a deep regret sought to engage cadence over my heart, with a deadly, uncontrollable dance. He was the man whom I had considered far more than my superior. To me, he was a father of sorts; a father whom I had never possessed in blood. And he had shown me the first kindness since the departing of my dear sister from this world. His probable disapproval, more than anyone, had sown grave doubts in my mind, as to whether or not I had done the right thing, in unleashing the sincerity of my soul. To lay bare the truth of myself before all those that I loved and cherished most. I could see Konoe's disapproving eyes in my mind, the lines of his face deepening as he stared at me from across the deep chasm of my speculations. What would he say, once the word of my betrayal had reached his ears? Would he hate me? And did I care enough to leave my contentment there in that silent moment, to hasten to his side and correct his misconceptions, though I knew them very well to be true?

My hurt was deep. I had betrayed them. Tatsumi, Hisoka, Konoe all. And for what? I had no idea how Muraki and I would be together. I didn't know him as an honest person, a sincere person. Not well enough to pass judgment as to whether or not he was a man with whom I could share a life, my heart, my body. All I understood was my predominant, wholly undeniable attraction to him; a passion so deep, so residual, that I could not even begin to understand where it stemmed from, let alone where it would end.

I wished desperately to resolve my never ceasing mind and all its' condemnations, so I turned my gaze towards the bay windows, calming myself with the strong and reassuring outline of Muraki's arresting figure. He must have felt my eyes upon him, because he turned to meet my stare, sipping peacefully from his glass. There was nothing harried in his expression; he had no reason to rush. He knew that he had me and that I was his of my own consent. No one was coming between us. There would be no interruptions.

A cold gust of wind sent a visible shiver throughout Muraki's body and as my eyes slid up his chest, I could see his nipples peaked through the thin wall of his yukata. I felt my groin tighten and start to grow heavy with an unfamiliar lust. The same feeling I'd had standing in Ukyou's room only earlier that same day. The feelings I had been unable to act upon, owing to our particular circumstances in that moment. But now… What was there to stand between us now? The look in Muraki's eyes was unmistakable and I slugged my wine back anxiously, legs remaining crossed, though I desperately wished to squeeze my thighs together and afford myself some protection.

"Have you had enough to eat?" Muraki asked softly, swilling the remaining dregs around the base of his glass. His visible eye was almost entirely slanted, his expression lazy… dreamy.

Beautiful.

"Yeah…I guess so." I replied, just as delicately, eyes lowered towards the mattress in what I imagined must have been a coy expression to Muraki's eye. "But I'm still…" I felt my features flush at my intended boldness. "…hungry."

Muraki's eye didn't leave me as I set my wine glass down and slid off of the bed, waddling awkwardly towards the balcony and extending my hand in an open invitation.

"Come inside out of the wind before you cause us both to catch our death." I urged.

Muraki looked out to me, across worlds, across nations and revealed to me a face that before I had never seen. A softness to the always-perpetual hard lines and an understanding that went deeper than words. He straightened up and moved closer to me and I felt that thread entangle through mine once more, our connection reaffirmed. We were now so close that our noses touched together. I felt a shiver race down my spine that I could not blame entirely on the cold from outside.

"Are you sure… that you are ready for this?"

I unconsciously drew a little closer, raising myself up on tiptoes so that I could rest my lips on the crest of Muraki's pale ear. I could hear his breathing sharpen slightly and was pleased that I still had that effect on him.

"I'm…" My words caught in my throat and I stalled for time by trailing my fingers down the collar of his yukata, lightly tickling his chest with the backs of my nails. He watched me, expressionless. "I'm… ready to… to try." I established, steeling myself to be courageous. I did want to do this. A million tiny impulses were racing through my body and for the first blessed time in my existence, I felt the true, invert desire to act upon them. Muraki's breath was hot against my skin, his eye shining with the proof of his passion. He allowed the tips of his fingers to drift upwards and stroke the back of my neck. I arched to the touch; his skin was cool but soft… I could see a thin spider like web of blue veins pulsing beneath the smooth white flesh of his neck. It was all I could do to suppress the urge to sink my mouth around those cryptic cobwebs that ran beneath the pale sheathe and let the succulent blood course its' way down my throat.

He smiled and brought his hand down to circle my wrist, raising my knuckles to his mouth in order to press a chivalrous kiss against the raised arch. But then that kiss caught my fingers, then the open palm of my hand and then the scars of my wrist. My heart was pounding in my chest.

"I'll try and go slow." Muraki murmured, with just a hint of that old devil may care grin I had come to at first hate and now love. My pulse now set to beating a harsh tattoo against the wall of my chest as Muraki stepped around me and turned gracefully to walk inside. I closed the balcony door behind him and drew the curtains shut to keep the warmth in. Muraki had moved over to the bed and was seated on the edge of it, staring impassively at the cabinet on the far side of the room, housing his small collection of pictures. I wondered if now my own picture could join those upon the stand? I looked into Muraki's impassive features, wondering if he was starting to question his steadfast accusation of his brother, whom he had seemed to share such a joyous childhood with? It was impossible to tell behind that expressionless mask he had slapped on.

I was still shivering and though Muraki showed no obvious signs of affliction from the cold, his visible flesh was raised in a slight pattern of goosebumps, so I sought to remedy this by pouring us another generous round each. I was hoping to get well and tipsy (and as a result, brave) before we went too far with this. Muraki accepted his own topped up glass back graciously, holding it with steady fingers, whilst never failing to detach his eyes from mine. I picked my own glass up and sat down on the bed beside my former enemy, legs crossed once more and eyes focused on him attentively.

He took another sip of his wine and I found myself fascinated by the tiny droplets that remained on his pale lips. His tongue flicked out to snatch them away and I suppressed another sigh. The desire I felt was so great. It was taking me over; drowning me. Had he always been so difficult for me to evade?

Muraki was watching me and I realized with another considerable overdose of embarrassment that I had been caught staring. Straightening up, I tilted back my glass and took a few well-measured gulps before I felt calm enough to look him in the eye again. It was not a comfortable silence that fell between us; it was agonizing and stretched to its' very limits.

After he seemed to have felt that this had gone on sufficiently long enough, Muraki took a token remedial sip from his wine (finally emptying it in the process) and then set it on the bedside table. He then reached over to extract mine, my hold being so compact I had come close to shattering the flute more than once.

When the drinks were safely out of reach, only then did Muraki move closer and gently place his hand on the side of my neck, stroking his long nails gently across my skin. I moaned, not at all softly, tilting my head back in order to increase the pleasurable sensation. I knew such a thing was wrong. Muraki and I were both men. We weren't married and he was responsible for the murder of one of my closest and dearest friends. Everything we were doing was a sin. But I couldn't seem to hold him accountable for that any longer. I couldn't force myself to repel his lovely touch. As soon as those cool lips descended upon my flesh, those lingering doubts were cast aside for good.

"Mr. Tsuzuki… listen to me." Muraki whispered, drawing his face closer to mine, to my pained struggling expression. My eyes were shut, my breathing labored, but I could still hear those words perfectly. "This whole time… since the moment I first called you up in that rainy night those endless weeks ago, I've been trying to bring you to this moment. To see you before me, unable to quit me, to bring you to this place where you would have but no one, not one person to depend on but me. And then, as in Kyoto, I meant to break you. To hurt you beyond all repair. To abandon you. Not because I want to see you dead, Asato Tsuzuki. But to free myself." His whole face trembled and he stared out from behind his glasses, as the child he had been over the gap of generations past. "Don't you understand…? Ever since I found your picture as a child I have clung to you. I have aimed for you, depended on you and crafted my entire life with you at my center axis. And I'm afraid to have nothing else but you. Afraid of this godless, never ceasing want that clasps its' fist around my heart." His hand cupped my face. "I wanted to destroy you… the you that exists inside of me."

My breath hitched in my throat as Muraki's long sure fingers lifted my glasses from my face and set them on the bedside table. Ensuing that my eyes remained focused upon him, he slid back and soothed away the starched material of his yukata, allowing it to fall in elegant waves from the curve of his broad shoulders, exposing the entire length of his pleasingly proportioned chest, right down to the aesthetic angles of his hips. The air in the room was slightly temperate from the heater but I still felt a violent thread of ice snap along my spine like the symmetrical stroke of a whip.

Muraki cast the yukata aside, almost too casually and, after placing his glasses on the bedside cabinet, angled his body over mine and started to steer me back first into the pillows at the head of the bed. I clutched the firm muscles of his shoulders, squeezing my nails in roughly to elicit his attention.

"Wait… wait, wait, wait!" I babbled nervously, entirely unable to articulate myself. Muraki sought my gaze with impatience burning in his visible eye.

"What is it? What's wrong?" His large hands clasped my waist from either side, lifting me up and forward slightly; all the better to negotiate the flow of our conversation. "I promised to begin this gently, did I not?" He stroked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. "You don't have to be afraid of my hurting you. Not anymore."

I dithered anxiously, not quite sure how I wanted to proceed but just feeling that something was missing. It was such a big moment for me; something that I wanted desperately to preserve for the rest of my eternity. I forced myself to think things through as logically as possible.

"It's not that… it's just…" I couldn't pretend that I wasn't nervous; I could actually feel the sweat beading on my forehead and I'd started to tremble all down my body. Muraki was stroking my forehead tenderly, as might a caring mother to soothe a child's tormented sleep. His thumb brushed lightly against my parched lips and I touched my tongue against it, perhaps teasingly. "It may sound silly but… I really want to do this right."

Muraki cocked his head to the side, flashing me an amused look. "There's really no right or wrong way to make love, Mr. Tsuzuki." He said, smiling provocatively. "Granted there are some variations in the procedure, it's all essentially the same at base level."

I smothered a gasp as his long sure hand slunk back and sensually caressed the skin beneath my lower leg. I raised my knee, trying to make things easier for him and to increase the pleasurable sensation for myself. His hand moved further up, fingers pinching ever so slightly against the crease where my buttocks met the skin of my thighs and my leg was suddenly perched on the crook of his shoulder, my back effectively forced into the pillows as he stroked and cupped and squeezed me.

"Muraki…" I gasped, gripping the muscles in his back as they slid in rigid waves beneath his skin. His erection pressed down against my thigh, solid, unyielding and growing firmer by the moment. I could see it there beneath the line of my sight, sprouting forth from the luxuriant curls of silver fleece at the very root. His pubic hair was as fine as the hair upon his head and appeared to be almost as soft. I was terrified by it; the entirety of his physical presence lain bare before me. I couldn't see how this big, long thing was going to fit inside of me. I had been told by one of my fellow dealer's aboard the Queen Camellia, that Muraki was a professional in such matters and that it wouldn't hurt a bit when he made love to me. But how could it not? How could it possibly not

On the far wall opposite the bed, an old stone fireplace had been partitioned off. I could see it around the gleaming lines of Muraki's torso.

"Stop." I whispered, pulling my leg down and linking my arms around his shoulders instead. Muraki pulled me against him with a low groan of satisfaction, his groin undulating against mine. I stifled the moan that threatened to betray my weakness, meaning to press my thighs together but only succeeding in caging Muraki's waist between them. He gave a little push against me, almost a twitch and cupped my bottom, guiding the contrary actions of our pelvises. Little spines of pleasure fluttered up from my groin, blood rushing firmly down to extend the length of my penis, already playfully serenaded by the rhythmic movements of Muraki's hips.

"No… Stop." I repeated, though when these words had ever worked with Muraki I didn't know. My leg was curling up like a flower exposed to the heat of the sun and it wilted into shape around the inlay of his waist as he continued to move against me, fucking me without penetration, the material of my pajama bottoms between our bodies. "Muraki…" I cupped his face, brought my mouth to his and sweetened my tongue with the sweat of his lips. My hands roved across his back, sliding across dampening flesh, fingernails scratching up his spine and into his soft head of hair. "Can we light the fire…?"

His features were reddened but he still managed to flash me that ever-constant wise guy look I think he reserved especially for me.

"Next I suppose you'll be asking for candles," He murmured, his lips twisting up into a wry smile. I felt my cheeks go red.

"Hey, you were looking for them at my place only last night." I reminded him, giving his forehead a little tap with my own. "And if you have any of your own, I think they might make for nice atmosphere… definitely better than the lamps, don't you agree? And the fire would be nice too…"

Muraki seemed positively delighted as he untwined himself from around me and climbed to his feet. "Why, my dear Mr. Tsuzuki, how nice to see your contributing to this! And with such enthusiasm too…" He kissed me softly and lowered my head into the pillows before swinging the yukata back around his shoulders and sanctioning himself securely within its' bonds again. "I shall attend to those matters forthwith, Mr. Tsuzuki. You just…make yourself comfortable."

I smiled shyly, trying to be bold by raising my knees and separating my legs ever so slightly but I didn't feel that it was as blatantly provocative as I had hoped. Never the less, I saw Muraki briefly hesitate before turning about and exiting the room and this stirred my confidence deeply.

Now, how best to prepare myself in his absence? I sat up, a little uncomfortable on account of my burgeoning erection and gazed around the room, trying to gather my thoughts. The idea that I would soon be subjecting my body to the virile attentions of my once great enemy was at the same time both terrifying and liberating. It had been too long… an entire life spent in speculation over what to expect at this one moment; the moment I would surrender my chaste status forever. I was shaking all over; a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. I wondered what it would be like? If it would be painful… if it would feel as good as I had imagined it to be? Perhaps all the novels I had read and the movies I had seen had been exaggerating? Watari had not given me any misconceptions when I had spoken with him the previous night. He'd told me to take care of myself; to relax so that it wouldn't hurt and to make sure I was as prepared as possible before Muraki entered inside of me. But what if I couldn't? What if I found that after all these years I had no talent for it; that I wasn't any good? What if I was so bad, Muraki actually laughed at me, or got tired of trying to fake it? And I wasn't a spring chicken anymore… what if I came too soon? What if I came too late? What if I didn't come at all!?

I gave myself a mental slap on both cheeks, telling myself not to get carried away with the 'what ifs' of my impending situation. Whatever happened would happen and couldn't happen any other way. This was only something I could take care of once Muraki was back there with me. Until then…

My eyes landed on the CD player on the left hand side of the room. I made my way over to it, kneeling down to sift through his music collection. A lot of obscure artists, hardly mainstream and many of which I had never heard of before. I thought that some music might have been just the thing to help set the mood but I could barely make an educated selection from among his various CD's. The player had five separate compartments, so you could play five CD's in a row and not have to bother with getting up to change them over; which would come in useful during the night I imagined. I continued my search, setting aside five CD's that I particularly liked, music from the forty's, which I favored and various peaceful tunes, background instrumentals and love songs. I arranged them in the order I most liked and then placed them one by one into the CD player, pressing play when it had finished reading through the contents. The first song came on and I turned it down a little, so that it wouldn't prove too intrusive. A woman's voice, an American singer, the lyrics in English naturally. I didn't understand the words but I enjoyed the tone in which she sang and the soft instrumentals of the music itself. Soft piano cords preceded the woman's voice into sweetly sung verse and I let the melody wash over me, fill me up and soothe my anxiety. Something sensual was coursing about my body, smoothing down the rough edges of my fear and replacing it with a prospective sense of anticipation.

Say where is my shame,

When I call your name?

So please don't set me free

I'm as heavy as can be

I moved back towards the bed, arms crossed over my chest, stipulating over my next move. I wondered whether I should get undressed while I waited for Muraki. I was nervous and I kind of wanted to just get on with it and not dither about any more than I had to. Muraki would be laborious in undressing me; would take his time and tease me with every article removed and I felt this might have given me more opportunity to back out. With this in mind, I decided to undress before he came back, peeling my pajamas off and tucking them safely beneath the bed. I felt incredibly exposed, being naked in Muraki's bedroom but I tried to push such thoughts aside, reminding myself that I would have ended up in the nude eventually. Removing my clothing at my own leisure simply allowed me to dictate some minor manner of authority over the situation itself, which invested a level of control on my part. I lay down on the bed, legs curled up slightly in an S shape, cradling my cheek against my hand. Should I have waited for him as such? Maybe I should sit up? No… that was hardly relaxing now was it? And lying on my back, with my legs directed towards the door would have definitely revealed too much. But I felt uncomfortable, being naked and lying across the sheets with everything on display. This normally would not have bothered me (being naked that is) but that was because the situations in which I had found myself bereft of clothes were hardly considered sexual. (At least not purposefully). This was entirely sexual. And no matter what I did, it would remain so. But I was still bashful and so I pulled the sheet up over my body and slipped down into the covets of the bed, propping myself up on the pillows to patiently await Muraki's return. I took the bottle of wine by the neck and nervously sipped the remaining dregs whilst I mulled the time over.

The door eventually eased open and I sat up, breath catching in my throat as I braced myself for the inevitable. But it was not Muraki.

His servant Sakaki entered with a congenial air and even preserved the good graces to bow towards me before making his way to kneel before the fireplace. I yelped so loudly and in such a high pitch that it could have near shattered the bottle in my hand.

"Mr. Sakaki!" I squealed, wishing I knew what his surname was. "What are you doing in here?!"

"Ah, yes. Forgive my intrusion, Mr. Tsuzuki." Sakaki said, politely, keeping his back to me all the while. He must have thought it rude but I was grateful he was granting me some privacy, for what it was worth. "Young master Muraki requested that I light the fire in his bedroom, whilst he went about his business in the downstairs rooms. How have you been, sir?"

"Oh, you know… same old, same old." I muttered, trying to gather the blankets about my person as inconspicuously as possible. I was so embarrassed I thought I might never stop blushing and here Sakaki was acting as though it were hardly a matter of concern! Did this happen often, I wondered? Or was he simply a gentleman of such high standards that nothing on this known earth could faze him? "And… um… you? Have you been well?"

Sakaki was propping up wood into a neat little temple in the interior of the stone fireplace; paper and brittle twigs nestled in underneath the peak that would catch more quickly than the thicker wood. It was in my nature to want to get up and assist him but being naked would have immediately clued him into what was going on, not that he didn't have a fair idea already I'm sure.

"I'm doing very well, thankyou Mr. Tsuzuki." Sakaki stated, starting the fire with a long match that he blew out once certain the paper and twigs had caught. "The weather has been fair and the health of myself and my wife has been excellent. My eldest son is getting married in a month's time, so naturally I have much to be glad about!"

"Really? Wow, congrats! That's wonderful news!" I said sincerely. I have to admit; I'm a sucker for weddings. Kind of makes me wish I could have my own one day but of course, that's impossible.

Sakaki risked a small smile over his shoulder, just to express his gratitude over my genuineness. "Thankyou. It's safe to say that life has been very good to me. But I am also pleased to see the young master so content. He's terribly serious most of the time and concentrates far too hard on his work. I'm grateful."

"Uh… sure." I said, smiling nervously. Sakaki was coming towards the bed and I could now see that he had a little pot in his hands. "Um… whatcha got there?"

"The master asked that I spread these liberally about the bed until your satisfaction was met." The elder gentleman established and then with much flurry, proceeded to toss handfuls of dark red rosebuds all over the sheets and duvets, coating much of my hair in the process. That Muraki… what a bloody smart-ass! I tried flashing Sakaki a look that plainly said I was not impressed in the slightest but the servant merely chose to ignore it and completed his task in much the same way that he had started it. By which stage, the bed was almost blanketed by the rose petals. "Now… I do hope that meets with your approval, Mr. Tsuzuki?"
I groaned and collapsed back against the pillows, slugging back what remained of the wine as I did. "Yeah… that's great. Thanks."

"I shall excuse myself then." Sakaki established with a deep, almost ninety-degree bow. "Don't hesitate to ask if you feel you should need anything else tonight. Please enjoy your stay." I assumed this was irony but I didn't have time to question it because he had already gone ass-first out the door. Not two seconds later, Muraki had taken his place, closing the door and locking it behind him. He wore a teasing expression and carried a square wooden box in one hand and a fresh bottle of wine in the other. He looked me over with an amused smile as I deposited the empty bottle onto the cabinet and gesticulated urgently for the replacement.

"Why… I had been hoping that I might undress you myself, Mr. Tsuzuki." The doctor mused, disappointed. He obediently passed the bottle to me, a red wine this time and then made his way around the room, sliding small white candles out of the box in his hand and setting them on various surfaces, where they might best add to the atmosphere. Quite a number went on the bedside tables, some on the windowsills, others on every cabinet, shelf, table and the like. Muraki paused by the CD player to take in the music and his eyes lingered on me approvingly. "Why, Mr. Tsuzuki… you have invested yourself in this more deeply than I ever thought you would have."

I grinned at him as I refilled our individual glasses. "I told you; this is important to me. Is this music all right?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

Muraki nodded as he went anti-clockwise about the room now; lighting the candles he had just set down. The wicks glowed amber in the near light and intensified to an esoteric radiance as he moved around the bed to switch off the lanterns.

"This is fine." He confirmed, sitting on the side of the bed and reaching out to cup the side of my face. His fingers pressed my cheek in, drawing deep circles, caressing pressure points I'd never known I'd possessed. "I've never made love to music before myself, so this will be a new experience for us both."

My throat was dry as I swallowed but I made every effort to be brave as I nodded and slowly drew the bed sheet off of myself, dragging it down until it rested atop my ankles, hiding only my feet from sight. I looked into Muraki's eyes in the candlelight and was euphoric to witness his rapt attentions; the way his firm gaze took me in and roved over every little line and curve and crease. He surveyed my pelvic region with such professionalism I almost doubted that he was even aroused by it. But I could see the hunger in his eyes. And his desire was flooding over and through me, making me a part of it. I undulated my hips slightly, lifting my bottom up so that he could inspect every obscure angle of me and he leaned back a little, appraising the line down from my perineum as I presented it to him. His breathing came in not quite rhythmic pants as he suddenly grasped my inside thighs and pulled them apart, rubbing the smooth palms of his hands over the flesh ferociously, driving catastrophic pleasure into my brain, rendering me incomprehensible.

"I want to fuck you senseless…" Came Muraki's lustful hiss into my ear and I moaned loudly, having never been spoken to in such a way, having never known proof of anyone wishing to perform such an act on me. "But…" And I could hear the strain in his voice and sense how hard this was on him. "I love you… so I… I will take everything well in hand. You just relax."

I felt his lips against my eyelid and my long lashes fluttered under the innocent contact. And take care of everything he did. Shrugging only the top half of his yukata free, Muraki worked his lips over my body, from my ankles up. He kissed me all over, avoiding my erection in favor of tracing less formally know eroticized lines and musculature patterns. Here was something I had only ever imagined could occur in a romance novel and it was happening to me! I moaned as he patterned kisses across my face. I was so needy… so desperate to fill that emptiness inside of me, the only way that it could be filled. The desire to redirect that previously entertained antagonism, with what I had so long since denied and despised.

Love.

I wanted that. …No, I needed that now, to validate my place in that moment with Muraki, to understand that my clause in this world was not lost and pointless after all. There was a reason to carry my existence forward, to read my silly little novels, to eat my ungodly amount of sweet food, to battle it out with my hair and grow tulips in the garden.

All it would take… for this life to truly be mine, was to break that residual membrane between denial and my one true self.

I sat up a little straighter, hair falling about my face, trying to contort my features into something I could only hope passed for sultry. I gingerly lifted one of Muraki's fingers and brought it to my lips. Muraki shut his eyes and arched his body with a moan of pure ecstasy as I bit deep, his momentary expression of pain extinguished in favor of an erotic hiss as I sucked on the small wound I had made. His blood was warm and sweet; it tasted like the salt of life.

"Take me." I commanded, closing my eyes and putting my arms around the witches' neck. I whimpered down deep in the back of my throat as we collapsed backwards onto the bed, the yukata still somehow remaining sanctioned about Muraki's waist, slipping astray only slightly as a result of our heated movements. Muraki ran his bleeding finger down my cheek, leaving a smear of blood against my pale flesh. I caught that finger between my teeth again and brought both hands up to hold it in place, liberally chewing on it and drawing more of the sweet liquid into my throat. Heat pulsed from between my legs as my body became increasingly aroused and I knew Muraki must have been feeling very much the same as I. To exploit the situation further, I drew on another of his weaknesses and removed the finger, instead sinking my teeth down into my own already swollen lips. I gnashed down hard a second time, actually squirting blood outward from the force of my bite. The red fluid splattered against Muraki's chin and he gasped euphorically, swiping his hand quickly across it and then shoving each finger greedily into his mouth, one at a time, lapping the blood from each digit. I watched him; fascinated by his lust and hunger, running my tongue down the corner of my mouth, in order to gather up the thick velvet moisture. I pulled myself close to my soon to be lover, feeling the pulse between my legs increase violently as I stretched my thighs open as wide as I possible could, framing Muraki's kneeling figure. He stayed remarkably still in light of my brazen proximity and allowed me to spread the blood across his white lips, using my tongue as the transference tool. When I was finished, I bit my lip again, splattering blood directly into his mouth this time. Muraki groaned, relinquishing control over his lust and drove his mouth against my own mutilated lips, holding my head in place so that every last drop of vitae would be his for the taking. He had told me once, on the deck of the Queen Camellia, that my essence was of the highest superior quality. The smallest amount was enough to stoke his inner fire. These were his words. And I was using this to my advantage. Granting myself some manner of authority in this situation, where I possessed so little experience.

His tongue maneuvered about my mouth with such skill. I made a sound in my throat, like a deep rumbling growl and hooked my nails into Muraki' back, piercing his flesh with crescent shaped marks. I felt small trails of blood intermingle with the sweat upon his back, blooming… blooming like a flower, unfolding from its' coalescent bud.

As I focused my attentions on this intense exchange between our mouths, Muraki used the distraction to sneak his hands down to my waist, where my thighs clasped a hold of his hips fiercely. He ran his fingers up my bare legs, up onto my upper thighs and started to stroke in earnest, using his thumbs to increase the pressure against my flesh. I moaned through our blood soaked kiss and altered my position so that Muraki was able to clasp his hands around the smooth area of my thighs. He smiled and raised his lips to touch to mine again, intent on continuing the kiss. We kept our eyes open as our burning lips made contact and he flashed me a most sultry look as he rubbed his lower lip between mine, teasing the upper column with his tongue. I groaned at the intolerable pleasure, cupping his face between my hands as I closed my lips about his and drew on them, forcing the kiss to linger on into shadows of lust and glimmer that before I had never allowed it to breach. Body shaking, beads of sweat puncturing free from the pores of my flesh, breaking the kiss so that we only faced one another, panting and overcome by what we had already shared. I dropped my finger to the indent of Muraki's neck and gingerly stroked this small depression, darting my tongue forward to clean the drying traces of blood from his lips. His visible eye swayed by this obscure movement, Muraki's hands traveled up my thighs, down and under, cupping the globes of muscle at the base of my spine, gripping tightly and pushing our pelvises together with violent vigor. So violent in fact, that his long, sharp nails cut into my buttocks at least three centimeters deep. I gasped, felt my penis twitch. Felt something deep inside of myself undulate. A heartbeat in the interior of my most sacred place.

Muraki's lips tweaked slightly, as though he too had felt this beat. He settled me down onto the blankets, one hand sinking to rest behind my tousled head, supporting his weight as we kissed. He gave pause, withholding the muchly-anticipated union to allow time in which to look upon one another and consider just what it was we were each thinking about. Muraki's expression was as mischievous as always but beneath the lines of his cerebral composure, therein lay the base core of some other, more docile emotion. I thought he looked stunning, stretched out above me, golden in the candlelight, hair sweeping down about his handsome, unblemished features, his yukata unpeeled from his body, revealing nips of his own subsequent nudity. I was struck by the insatiable urge to allow myself to be devastated by the beautiful body above me and being in no mood to deny my material instincts, pulled upwards and kissed him firmly, trying to tell him without words the desire I had for him. Muraki responded in kind, wrapping his long fingers around my elbows and digging ten perfectly manicured nails into the rough skin. He tilted his body weight slightly, so that he tipped sideways onto the bed, pulling me close the moment he had landed against the sheets. He wrapped his hands around my back and neck as he rolled to the side on the bed. I sensually slid my leg between Muraki's thighs with the austere delicateness of thread through the eye of a needle. I moved my fingers across his bare chest, plucking up my courage and rubbing my thumbs over his nipples, feeling my face grow hot as the little nubs went hard beneath my attentions. And he purred, sinking one hand onto the back of my neck and guiding my face forward. I momentarily resisted, unsure of what he expected. He could tell from my eyes that I was confused.

"Use your mouth." He demanded in a husky voice. I contemplated what he was asking of me and blushed without apology, my temperature rising several palpable degrees as he used one white fingernail to trace his own nipple. I was lured forward by this enticement, resting my fingers on the curve of his abdomen, almost panting with hesitant anticipation. "Here… your tongue and your lips."

I placed one hand sideways on the center of his chest, unable to move my eyes away from his pert pale pink nipples. Muraki took his own fingers away and rested them on the back of my neck, twining the smaller strands of hair in an encouraging sort of way. I think he could see the apprehension in my eyes.

"There's no reason to be afraid," He said, running the back of his hand over my flushing cheek. His smiling features were suddenly right up against my nose. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

It definitely sounded appealing but I didn't want to give Muraki another reason to have one up on me. Letting him go first only highlighted my inexperience. I shook my head, raking my hand back through my sweaty head of hair and kissed Muraki's neck.

"No… it's okay. Let me try…" I inched closer, angling my hip to bring my thigh up over Muraki's waist. The sash of his yukata cord was the only thing keeping his penis from springing free and I could feel it straining against my stomach as our bodies fell together. "Tell me if I'm doing anything wrong… okay?"

Muraki smiled, rubbing his thumb up over my cheek and arching his back so that his chest curved in towards my face. Fighting through a renewed bought of nervous shudders; I leaned forward and slowly closed my lips over his right nipple, trying to move my mouth in a fashion reminiscent to a deep French kiss. I licked and sucked the little bud, barely able to smother the smile that gripped my features as Muraki moaned with deep satisfaction, his fingers knotting into my hair.

"Yes… that's it… that's the melody." He whispered and I felt his free hand against the curve of my buttocks, scratching and teasing and tickling. I nibbled at the small bud, leaving a glittering trail of saliva across his chest as I licked my way over to the left nipple, rolling my pelvis against his in a corporeal dance.

"Put a finger in." I gasped, wanting a penetration, desiring an intrusion, aching to be filled up as soon as possible. "Please Muraki…" He gazed into my sweat soaked features without a smile and I felt my eyes well slightly, afraid and yet desperately wanting. "… please…"

He watched me for a while longer, as though testing my endurance, waiting to see whether or not I would rescind on my plea. But I sought him with genuine yearning, taking his hand in mine and guiding it to my mouth, sucking on the long, strong digit, coating with my saliva. My breath was hot around it and I panted with exhausting passion as I popped my mouth free and dropped his hand around my waist, draping it over my buttocks.

"Please…" I repeated.

His face came close to mine, his visible eye as masked as the one cloaked by his hair.

"Be brave." He whispered, the pad of his finger pressing against my pucker as though it were a button. "Prepare yourself… be strong and endure it."

I groaned as the slicked digit pushed up deep inside of me, sending an odd ache through my rectum but an equally exciting twinge through my lower extremeties. I cupped his hand between my own, head tilted back against the sheets as his finger went in as far as it could go, probing against that place inside of me that speared devastating pleasure up through my body. In and out, it went. Finger curved and diving and weaving in the delicate membrane of my deepest sanctity.

"Uh… ow…uh…" I whimpered, eyes scrunching shut as I focused with all my will on these wonderful, painful sensations.

"Very good… you're doing so well." Muraki cooed, moving his heated, stained lips to the crook of my shoulder. He nipped the skin; kissed and sucked all the way down to the circular curve of my pectoral. "We should… move up the bed. Make the most of those pillows. They were specially shipped from Germany, you know."

"Oh… how charming!" I groaned, pulling free from Muraki's finger in favor of scurrying up to the head of the bed and collapsing passionately against the pillows as though I couldn't get enough of them. I wondered if Muraki felt jealous, though I wagered it was beyond even him to feel envious of bed cushioning. He slunk up the bed towards me; the lower half of his yukata amazingly clinging to his wide waist against all laws of physics and raised the white sheets so that we could both slip inside. As soon as we had settled down, Muraki wrapped his arm around my shoulders and waist, pulling me close. I didn't resist and allowed the former serial killer to intertwine our fingers, as I curled up close to the protective warmth of his chest.

"Are you frightened?" He asked with such sincerity in his voice I could tell immediately that he meant it. It wasn't a question I would have expected from Muraki; I hadn't expected him to care. I smiled cheerfully as I pulled myself up onto his chest, rubbing my thigh surreptitiously over the yukata that remained suspended about his waist.

"Whilst I'm sure you're bound to make some scary noises in bed, Muraki, I wouldn't exactly say it's the scariest situation I've ever been in."

"Do you really mean that?" He asked knowingly, his fingers twining between mine and caressing them from the tips to my knuckles.

My smile faltered and I lowered my face towards his chest, laughing at my own folly. "No… This is really scary for me. But… I'm enjoying myself too. This all feels really nice."

"Yes, I gathered as much." He mused, reaching down to give me a cheeky little tickle along the side of my penis. I gasped, my pelvis twitching and curling up along his lower torso as he traced his fingertip around the head of my erection, bringing his hand up so that I could see him rub my pre-cum between his thumb and index finger. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, how he made this shameful part of me seem so sexy. I nearly came when, after inspecting the clear fluid between his fingers, he raised them to lip height, appraised them with the experienced eye of a connoisseur and then touched the tip of his tongue to them. My breaths grew increasingly deeper as he ran his tongue up first his thumb, then his finger, purring softly as though he were a cat licking milk up from a saucer.

"Delicious… oh, my love… you taste positively divine."

Gasping, jealous of his attentions towards the mere extension of myself, I wound my arms around his broad, weathered chest and nuzzled the carotid artery in his neck, grazing my teeth across it teasingly. Muraki grinned and snatched a handful of my hair, jerking me up roughly to meet his gaze. He leered down at me, running his tongue across his lips and smacking them evocatively.

"I will be gentle with you, Mr. Tsuzuki. But make no mistake; I plan to quench myself fully tonight. I will…" His lips were an inch from my own, brushing against them with every word. "… come forth inside of you, with everything I have."

I smiled back, though I was still very nervous. "I should hope so."

We fell into the kiss, tongues colliding in the exciting wild game of dominance. Snakes warring within the confines of darkness, the bitter metallic scent of blood egging them on to more aggressive levels. I moved my hands down low across Muraki's abdomen, fingering the scattering of scar tissue spread athwart his flesh. Our lips parted for a moment and I delighted in the moisture that was left behind. Muraki combed his fingers through the under layer of my hair, brushing our lips together teasingly. He bit down not at all gently on my already abused maw, opening up the clotting wound and enthusiastically sucking up the blood that flowed free. It stung and I found myself more aroused by the provocative sounds he was making. He mewled like a cat in heat, fingernails digging into my back and waist as though they were scratching posts. I moaned and tugged my mouth free so that I could whisper in my boyfriends' ear, the torn flesh of my lip dripping blood down the side of his pale face with every pronounced letter.

"You've never been afraid to break me, Muraki…" I said breathlessly, running my fingers up his jaw line and back to release the silver strands of hair, tucked behind his ear. "I… I want to shatter beneath your hands. And as you have always been, don't be afraid to touch me with all your passion, your violence, your aggression. That is what I want to feel from you always."

I sat up a little and shook my damp hair out, trying to keep my bangs from obscuring my line of sight as I smiled down at Muraki. The witch gazed up at me appreciatively.

"And so you shall." He commented, scratching my face gently, tellingly with his nails, before pushing his lips back upon mine and simultaneously rolling me over, angling his body over my much smaller frame. He pressed down upon my hips, guiding me back into the German style pillows. In that perfectly blissful moment, I could think of nothing that could possibly be softer. Muraki moved like a sinuous breeze across my body, caressing the rise and fall of my pectorals, panting as he returned the favor upon my nipples that I had invested upon his. Then, for a few breathless moments he merely gazed upon my torso, long white nails tracing the lines between each muscle. I was equally enamored with his body; its smooth perfection, the whipcord muscles shifting beneath alabaster flesh and the delicious reminders of his age and mortality, such as the small fold of skin on each hip, the beginnings of love handles. The slight spreading of his thighs and the minor distention of his stomach. These inconsequential flaws increased his beauty, rather than dimmed it. Despite all that he had done, all his power, prestige and presence, Muraki was still human. And that was a good thing. That made him more beautiful than if his body had been model-esque; toned and trim. His skin was soft but underlined from beneath by sinewy muscles, moving like ripples in a millpond. My hands felt too rough for it but Muraki had expressed his desire to reap my body asunder and after so long I had no intentions to restrain my passion. There would be no desire too uninhibited to require shackling.

Muraki's long, pianist fingers found placement between my shoulder blades and he pulled me to him, his smeared lips landing firmly on the center of my arched chest. I gasped in surprise but reacted as I felt was accordingly, clasping one hand behind Muraki's slender neck and pushing his face firmly against me. He reached around with his free hand and cupped my narrow hip, holding my body steady as slight tremors of desire and thinly veiled anticipation, raced impatiently around the track of my body.

Muraki parted his lips timorously and lightly gathered a small pinch of my tanned flesh between them. I felt his tongue dart out, lapping a straight line across the outline of one of my ribs. His lips parted with a soft wet sound and it seemed that he was struck by the sudden and urgent temptation to bear his hand upwards and frame my already pert nipple, the same pale pink in color as Muraki's lips had been after my blood had stained them. Muraki smiled and slowly licked the tiny bud with his tongue; flicking his teeth and lips over it, staring coyly into my eyes as though daring me to object. I mewled at the sweet sensation, watching in fascination as my nipple hardened further as a result of his playful administrations. The noises stealing out of me sounded purely animal in nature and I dug my fingernails sharply into Muraki's spine and scalp, my own lips tracing his pale hairline. He trailed a line of kisses upward towards my throat and used his hand to pull my head forwards, running his tongue up from the clavicle to the shadowed area where my neck meet my chin. A shiver raced through my body, my trembling hands grasping Muraki's shoulder blades urgently, as though I were trying to anchor myself down. My head was spinning, my senses rattled, slightly numb from the amount of alcohol I had consumed. I dug my nails in, feeling that I might drift away from reality at any moment. Muraki's smile swam before my eyes as he bowed forward to kiss me softly on the lips, earning for his efforts an affectionate embrace. I dipped my hands down and trailed them along Muraki's stomach until they fell upon the flimsy cord, commendably binding the remains of the kimono around his lovely waist. I had trouble untying the knot; my fingers were shaking so badly but under Muraki's patient tutelage I made short work of the binding and eagerly extracted the doctor from his pale wrappings. He plucked it out of my hands as soon as it was free and leaned down to sweep it under the bed. My lurking inhibitions were shattered as I visually absorbed the impressive swelling of his remarkable manhood, jutting out from the rivulets of silver curls between his legs. What blood remained free from my erection flushed to my cheeks in rosy patterns as I briefly entertained a detailed fantasy of how his cock would feel inside of me. How it would stretch and fill and satisfy. The lurid images were enough to make my own erection feverish and it twitched as though suffering the throes of death, the tip leaking and it stiffened until the need for release became almost unbearable. The sight of it embarrassed me and I made to pull the sheets back over my body, meaning to cover myself but Muraki stopped me.

"Don't…" He whispered, inclining forward and pushing my shoulders down until I was lying flat against the pillows. I watched him carefully, voice rising from the womb of my lungs and bursting forth in a heated contraction as Muraki moved back towards my waist and used his hands to spread my legs wide, until my knees touched the blankets outside the line of my hips. "I want to see you… don't veil your body in shadows where my eyes must discern the darkness from reality."

Our eyes locked as one so powerfully one might have expected to hear the click of a turning key. Muraki brushed aside the crisp white sheets; prying open my fingers, which had clenched tightly around the material, in order to sweep the protective halo of modesty away. There I lay, entirely exposed, my lavender eyes regarding the demon above me with the lure of fey enticement. I was so innocent, yet my body posture was entirely alluring. Muraki withheld his hormones for the moment, in order to slightly roll me on my side and examine the body in which my immortal soul resided. He looked me over, examined my flesh from every angle, rolling me then onto my stomach and running his hand down from my neck, down the hallow of my back and onto my bottom. I felt his lips at my ear, as my cheek was pressed down firmly into the pillow supporting my face.

"If I were to describe your body in a case study Mr. Tsuzuki, such words come to mind," He whispered, chin caressing my cheek and temple. "He is pure and untainted by body markings, the result of many years spent mostly in the shade and out of the sun." His tongue glazed around the shell of my ear. "Cruel looking scars criss-cross his right wrist, as well as small number that scatter across his arms, legs and chest. Marks of unknown origin… marks that contain a tragedy this young man is unwilling or perhaps unable to share. They are marks aching for some kind of healing. Healing… that a physicians touch alone can provide."

I gasped as he lowered his pelvis down against my buttocks, his stiff penis pressing down into the crevice but going no further. "Muraki…" I hissed a warning out from between my teeth, dissuading him from progressing any further but he was only teasing me.

"I watch the slender line of his neck rise and fall in time with his breathing, his lips part and draw at the air, though the pillows now hide half of his face. His hips…" His hand traced my waist as he spoke. "… they are small and perfectly arched, like a porcelain work of art; carved for voyeuristic beauty alone, to surmise that one might gaze upon but never touch. The thought of breaking such a beautiful creation is enough to shatter the mind of he who envisions it, yet the desire to touch it was just as bad. If not worse."

"Muraki…" I moaned his name softly as he rolled me over so that I faced the ceiling, my hands palm up and fingers loosed from a previously engaged fist. His eyes lingered on the area bellow my stomach and he smiled indulgently at the thoughts he had no doubt just entertained.

But his attentions focused elsewhere, his hand running down over my arms, moving the fingers to trace the muscle pattern down my chest, along my hips; my apparently beautiful, fragile hips. I couldn't take my eyes off of him and he met my gaze with confidence.

"You're beautiful." He established, pushing his lips against my forehead. I fluttered my eyes shut and breathed sharply into his neck as I placed one hand on Muraki's chest, stroking gently with my fingernails. His own hands focused their attention elsewhere, working down my back, wandering idly through the cryptic lines and sinews until they were able to clasp my round firm buttocks. We both sighed in unison as Muraki pushed our bodies closer together, I, openly enjoying the feeling of his heated palms against my flesh. Surprising even myself, I sought to return the favor and brought my fingers down to gingerly wrap about the length of Muraki's rigid penis. He gasped, so I wagered this came as something of a pleasant surprise to him and dipped his hips ever so slightly, enabling me to take more into my palm and I fondled him as best I could. My body temperature soared higher than ever as Muraki sought to reengage his passion by stroking the curvature of my hips and darting his tongue about the shell of my ear. I was spurred on myself and I wanted to look at him; subject him to the same perverse inspection he had put me through. And so, while it was in me to be so bold, I took momentary control and twisted his body sideways, using my thighs to commandeer his motion. I brought him beneath me, pinned his wrists on either side of his lovely, delicate features and took my time subjecting him to a fierce and hungry appraisal.

As his eyes had previously wandered my body, so now did I plunder the usually veiled lines and crevices of his desirable form. The doctor had lovely wide hips, framed by long, strong legs and from what I remembered a well-defined posterior. His upper torso, soured slightly from a number of months spent prone in hospital, was nonetheless divine to my hormone-addled mind, sculptured like a fine Greek statue in alabaster plaster. His skin was so pale it seemed to almost meld into the sheets beneath his body and he cocked his head side long, the ever-present smile surveying me with the abject definition of 'bedroom' itself. He flicked the tip of one long fingernail over his lip, raised his hips beneath mine and displayed his thick penis down to the very roots from which it stemmed. He was not so big that I thought it might be impossible for us to make love but large and long enough to make me wince in sympathy for how my bottom might feel the following day. He wasn't a great deal larger in that department than I was, which pleased me for some reason. In a lot of ways, not just physically, Muraki and I were incredibly similar.

"Do you like what you see, Mr. Tsuzuki?" His voice was a lazy drawl. He knew that he had me captivated.

"Shut up." I whispered, lowering myself down beside him again and linking his fingers through mine. He leaned in close to deliver a series of soft kisses to my lips. "Use your mouth for something better than that."

"Mmm…" Muraki murmured; pulling me to him with the hand he had since slouched about my waist. We both gasped as our pelvises struck, our mutual hardness fractioning pure electric currents through my body; the living warmth of each rising and falling in time with the sinuous movements of our hips. I gripped Muraki's face with both hands and kissed him ravenously, allowing him to guide me onto my back with his thighs. His lips trailed randomly over my face and shoulders, when a sharp pain at the base of my neck made me sit up and take notice. I looked down into the doctors' eyes and a mischievous smile was returned, creeping across his cat like features as he licked his lips with a flagrant hunger. I gave a jerking nod of my head, granting him rights unto me and tilted my head back, drawing the muscle and ligaments taut as he lowered his mouth to the small wound he had made and drew on it; my immortal blood trickling into his mouth like water from a leaking tap. I wondered whether it was wise for him to be taking more blood from me, considering I was still somewhat anemic from his brute actions earlier that same day. Yet, as the pale man continued to feed, I found it less feasible to conjure up excuses to stop him.

A glorious feeling was sweeping through my body, as though I were being stroked from the inside out. My skin prickled and ignited with heat, coming to life as my essence was drawn out from the tiny puncture marks in the joint where my shoulder meet my neck. I groaned, encapsulated by ecstasy, tilting my head back even further so that the wound wept grievously. Muraki's tongue lapped the blood greedily into his mouth, sharp nails gripping my well-defined arms as he rocked his hips against mine maliciously. My swollen erection throbbed painfully as it was massaged by Muraki's greedy length and as I dropped my hand down to temporarily soothe it, accidentally caught them both in my palm. Muraki gasped, his teeth nipping my skin together at this unexpected action.

"Oh Mr. Tsuzuki…" He tutted, eye shut yet managing to cluck his tongue at me. "How naughty of you. To behave in such a virile manner… I didn't think you had it in you."

I raised my head a little and set my eyes on Muraki's face, smiling breathlessly at him. The invitation could be read before I had even sent it.

"Get me ready…" I whispered desperately. The ache in my groin had increased to the degree that it was wholly unbearable. I stroked our erections together, meaning to soothe my own in the act but only adding to the intense pleasure already rocketing through our bodies. Muraki's chest was heaving up and down, sweat making the albino white flesh appear shiny and slick. I cooed deep in my throat as I pressed a pale hand to his hard, rosy nipple, giving it a little pluck and a strum. The smile had finally slid free from his features. "I… don't think I can hold out much longer. If we don't start soon, I'll…" I couldn't finish my sentence. Just leaned up and slicked my lips up his chin, caging his lip in my second weak lunge. "Get me ready." I repeated, my voice so husky I barely recognized it.

Muraki was certainly not one to disappoint.

He gave me a brief, passing grin as he slid himself over towards 'his' side of the bed, reaching into the third drawer and rooting about for a moment, I simply biding my time by sensually scratching his back and running my hands up through his hair, making a thorough mess of it. Mine no doubt looked like shit, so why not his also?

That's when the worst sensation stole over me.

"Oh no…" I whispered, feeling my stomach cramp violently. I gave Muraki a little push to express my urgency. "Let me up. I have to go to the toilet."

I expected him to protest but he rolled off of me right away and helped me sit up and swing my legs out of bed, offering me a helpful push in the toot to shoo me towards the en suite.

"That's probably a good idea. Get yourself cleaned up and comfortable before we start. Oh and if you wouldn't mind, would you change the song when you come back? I can't stand this CD. As a matter of fact, I find it quite distracting."

I flashed a cheeky look over his shoulder. "You could have fooled me. Won't be a moment."

I raced through my business in the bathroom as fast as could be reasonably expected, almost emptying out every tract in my body to ensure this wouldn't occur again during the night. When I was done I wiped myself clean, flushed and washed my hands, trying to ignore my reflection in the mirror as I did. Not only was I sure that I looked a pathetic sight but mirrors had become even more disturbing as of late. This was the one moment I didn't wish to be whisked away by my sister into a gruesome otherworld, where I'd have to bind up all my sexual tension and direct my meager brain towards solving mind-bending conundrums. The thought was more than enough to make me want to scream. No sir. I wasn't even going to glance in it as I freshened up. But I did glance in the medicine cabinet, to see if there was anything in there that might have assisted in the night's proceedings. I found a tube of plain lubricant (half used which made me a little jealous I will admit) and a packet of condoms, though I wasn't sure Guardians of Death necessarily needed to use these. And I can imagine it would have pissed Muraki off considerably had I presented them to him. ("Here we go! More fun for me, less for you!") But I took one anyway, simply for the novelty of getting to use a condom for the first time in my life. They were ribbed and I guess this meant there were little studs along the outside. The box loudly flouted the words 'Ribbed for her pleasure!' Knowing Muraki like I did, he probably turned them inside out.

I exited the bathroom with my aids in hand, pausing by the player to change the CD over. Muraki was waiting patiently for my return, another tube of lubricant clutched in his hand. This one hadn't been opened at all. He had been taking the seal off just as I'd entered the room.

He noticed the similar tube in my hands and at least had the good grace to appear ashamed of himself. "That wasn't for you to see." He established, motioning with his hand to indicate that I might return it to the bathroom. "And I highly doubt that cream is going to come in useful tonight. Tomorrow morning perhaps but I was hoping to avoid that if possible."

It was then, with some embarrassment that I actually read the label stuck to the side of the tube I had picked up. It wasn't lubricant at all. It was hemorrhoid cream.

"Oh my god." I went bright red and burst into a fit of giggles. "I'm so sorry! I didn't even look!" The giggles exploded into laughter, my anxiety finally expressing itself in a more beneficial way. I was almost bent over double from laughing so hard. "I would never have even imagined you, you of all people having hemorrhoid's!"

"Well, I try not to think about it too much myself, Mr. Tsuzuki." Muraki said, with a small, appreciative smile. He didn't seem at all embarrassed by my reaction but rather pleased that I seemed to have relaxed somewhat. "And I assure you, I have no need of it tonight. It was a lovely gesture but you might do well to pop it back where you found it, eh? And what else have you foraged out of my cabinet there? Been sifting through my condoms have you?"

I nodded as I returned the cream to the cabinet in the bathroom and then made my way back over to the bed, handing him the small foil packet, which he took and turned over and over, inspecting it from all angles.

"It's… look, I don't think Guardian's of Death can catch STI's… and it's going to be my first time, so I kind of would like it to be perfect but…" I shrugged uselessly. "If we used a condom, I'm guessing it would be less exciting for you, right?"

He made a non-committal sort of grunt, still turning the square packet over and over in his hands.

"I would feel… considerably less." He admitted, still not looking at me as I reached over and chugged a bit more of my wine back. The warmth spread down through my already heated body. "It would be a sort of membrane stretched between us and is normally used as an effective sex-aid to guard against pregnancy. Which I doubt is going to happen between you and I." He set the condom packet down on the bedside table and encouraged me to meet his gaze. "If you were a mortal man and had been having sex with a number of different partners without precaution in those instances, then it might prove prudent to use such protection. However, the case is such that you have had no previous partners and there's no chance you could catch an STI off of me, owing to the fact that you are immortal and are incapable of doing so and that I, in addition, have no such venereal diseases. I have had a number of male partners before but I have normally used protection and I am regularly tested for the presences of such infections. However, if you would feel more comfortable having me use a condom, I do not mind so much. The sensations would be much the same for you either way, I imagine."

I shook my head, already decided by his words and his kind, unfamiliar generosity. "No." I said, taking one more sip from my glass before setting it down and sliding back into bed against Muraki's warm, accommodating body. He immediately wrapped me up and warmth and sweltering heat immediately returned to me. "This is important, this moment. It's only fair for you to feel everything that I do. The heat inside of me-" I twined my fingers through his. " – the… t-tightness of my body… all around you…" I was going red; I was so embarrassed to be speaking in such a blatant tone. "… g-g-" I swallowed through a parched throat, my voice starting to tremble as badly as my body did. "- g-get me r-r-ready… puh-please… Mu-Muraki."

"Shh, shh, shh, shhh…" He soothed, pressing the pad of his finger against my mouth and then nursing my chin between it and his thumb. He gazed into my eyes with such tenderness. "Don't be afraid. I promise, I'll do everything I can to make this easy and enjoyable for you. Trust me…" He lifted the lubricant from the bedside table and popped the cap off, squeezing the thick, clear liquid onto his right hand fingers, coating three of them generously. They looked so big and thick all stacked together. Like a wall! God, how was he going to get those all in at once? "It will hurt at first, I can't help that. But it will become pleasurable once you have gotten use to it. Just… try to open yourself up to it as much as possible, won't you?"

I caught sight of Muraki's long nails and flinched. "You'll… you'll tear me open with those! They're too long! Muraki!"

He clucked his tongue, impatient with me. "I have had my fingers inside of you more than once already, Mr. Tsuzuki and you were not so concerned with my fingernails then, I assure you. I promised you I would be gentle, didn't I? They are not so long you will be ripped to pieces. Now please! I insist you try and relax. Given time I am sure-" He finished coating his fingers generously and put the tube back atop the cabinet and looked down upon me with one very visible hungry eye. " – that I will make you scream."

Leaving me with that, Muraki moved me onto my back again and stole atop my body, sheathing his hand down beneath the globes of my ass. I shut my eyes, clenching the blankets tightly and tried to focus my attentions elsewhere but on the pain and implications of what I knew were coming. I listened to the music let it steal inside of me, the tender words, the sweet motives.

"I have a smile, stretched from ear to ear

To see you walking down the road

We meet at the lights I stare for a while

The world around us disappears.

It's just you and me, on my island of hope

A breath between us could be miles.

Let me surround you,

My sea to your shore

Let me be the calm you seek."

I barely felt it, his index finger sliding up into me, sheathing deep back into the place it had only previously occupied. But even deeper, on account of the lubricant easing its' progress. This was to sample, in some minor anticipation of what I should expect later. It passed easily inside of me, tracing the tight, dry passageway to that elusive core of pleasure that I hoped was his target. But not yet. All in good time, apparently. If he stirred me on too soon, then it would be all over, in the most unsatisfactory of conclusions. Dragging out the foreplay too long only increased the possibility that I might have gone screaming into orgasm, foregoing Muraki's part in the process entirely.

Muraki chuckled softly, delighting in my reaction. I curved forwards, head pressing tightly to the doctors chest as aroused mewls of satisfaction leaked from my tightened, bloodied lips. Muraki moved his finger in and out and I bucked on it like a fish on a hook, trying to build up an enjoyable stimulus and shuck through the uncomfortable ache. I stole upwards like a snake in mid strike and sank my teeth sharply into Muraki's shoulder, raking his arms in out of control passion.

"Slower…" I breathed, wrapping myself around his smooth white body, like a golden, candlelit sheathe. "Just… slower… Let me feel everything. Everything…" I moaned.

Muraki reduced the speed of his fingering, making for more controlled, drawn out penetrations. I nodded, closing my eyes and pushing back against that finger, settling into a rough but steady rhythm of thrusting. I felt the whole world shift but not my place in this moment; this delirious, intoxicating present.

"Oh, and every time I'm close to you

There's too much I can't say

And you just walk away

And I forgot

To tell you, I love you"

My hand fumbled down to our waists and I wrapped my fingers around the taut cock of the doctor; using my thumb to rub the sensitive area beneath the head. Muraki gasped in pleasure and arched his back off of the sheets, which in turn drove his finger down violently into the depths of my, until recently, unscathed body. I yelped as his fingernail gashed the inside of me and bit his ear sharply in a sort of 'told you so!' way. The doctor took heed and leveled our faces.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, kissing me gently, using his free hand to angle my chin upwards, whilst his finger remained submerged in the tightened flesh of my body, rubbing the injured area. "I'm sorry, darling. Are you all right?"

I nodded lightly and pressed my face against Muraki's chest, stroking his neck with a loving munificence. He in turn rested his chin atop the defining part of my mussed hair. He waited patiently for my words, holding the finger within me steady until he was given official consent. It must have taken phenomenal restraint but he managed it, perhaps more to his surprise than my own. I waited for the stinging pain to salve inside of me before addressing him, wanting to start off on a clean slate again, rather than risk tearing myself anew.

"I'm fine." I said, after a while. His chest smelt like sweat and salt and blood. "Just… try and be a little more careful, please? This is all new to me. And I… I'm frightened by every little pain that goes through me." My eyes welled up at my cowardice. "I wish I wasn't so afraid… I want this so bad! But tonight… I know I must be making this difficult for you but maybe you could be a little more gentle… if that's not asking too much."

"Of course it's not, Mr. Tsuzuki." Muraki said, kissing a trail across my hairline tenderly. I pecked his cheek, to express my gratitude and looped my arms up around his neck, reaching one hand around to brush the tears away from my cheeks, chin crooked up over his shoulder the better to promote the intimacy of our embrace.

"I'm sorry… Why should you want to reign your feelings in, after all this time, that's what you're thinking right?"

He gave a little chuckle against my shoulder, fingers stroking up between my shoulder blades, teasing that little strip of skin I was starting to favor as one of my better spots.

"When I want to shout it from every rooftop I can find? Yes, that's true also but this is not just about me, now is it? Though, you must admit that it's nice to feel yearned for and adored, I'm sure."

"Morning smile, like the face of a newborn child

Innocent, unknowing."

His words cut me – so innocent and simplistic in their meaning, but meaning so much to me. I had never had anyone refer to me in such a charming manner before. My entire life had been centered on the basis of self-loathing and perhaps the occasional physical compliment from a few less than favorable admirers. To be adored was to be viewed to the very roots and depths of my being. As childish as the sentiment was, it meant so much to me, that I could be simply loved and adored by someone who had felt so strongly before having heard me speak, seen me walk about or take my clothes off. Muraki fell for the worst part of me; the sickened, weak, insane patient in his Grandfather's hospital wing. He had seen a picture of me in this state and that was the side of me he had adored; never mind the best of me; my smile, my sense of humor, my laugh, my genteel nature. No. There he saw the wickedness, the madness, the weak soul abandoned to darkness, bequeathed in shadow, without relent, trapped in the never ending cycle of despair and sorrow, devoured eternally by the snake at his back.

The part of me that no one else had been able to accept. The part of me forever rejected and shunted aside, even by myself. And for Muraki to accept it meant that at long last I could come to the understanding that perhaps it was okay to be myself in entirety. That I didn't have to hide any longer. Bind myself up, bandage the wound that never healed and blot out the eyes of the hungry creature stirring in turmoil in the recesses of my sub consciousness.

"Winter's end, promises of a long lost friend

Speaks to me of comfort

But I fear, I have nothing to give

I have so much to lose here in this lonely place

Tangled up in your embrace

There's nothing I'd like better than to fall."

I was not alone in my monstrous hideousness. It didn't have to be ugly and I didn't have to hide it.

I didn't have to exist alone in it.

Tears flowed down over my eyelashes and it must have been too much for Muraki to stand, being witness to my surrender and the freedom it wrought me, alongside the terrible guilt. The relief at having eased the chains from my wrists. He pinched my chin between his fingers and kissed me, tongue seeking, engaging, soothing and teaching. When it ended, I wrapped my arms around his neck and we embraced tightly, tangled around one another. Never before had things been so… tender between us. He was normally vicious and pushy and ruthless, trying to force his attentions upon me from every which way. I suppose feeding from me had instilled some of my residual essence within his body and was calming him down a little as a result. I can't say for sure. Nothing that night had been exactly normal, so why should anything have returned to the way it was before? The pictures on the mantelpiece were silent and unmoving. Unbuffeted by time. And they were the remaining, unchanging continuity, freezing a time to hold but never keep. Like grains of sand through the fingers of the fist that clench to erstwhile granules; all flows away, leaving only the barest traces upon the flesh.

"I love you." I whispered, moved more towards tears by reminding myself of this fact. This was hard for me, no matter what any of the other Guardians thought otherwise. It had not come easy to me to love him. Like everything in my existence, I was pulled there by the same current of the wind that bought the cherry blossoms sweeping up across the isles year after year after year. I wished I could make Muraki understand this, how much my words truly meant because I had sacrificed so much to offer them.

"Wind in time, rapes the flower trembling on the vine

Nothing yields to shelter it

From above, they say temptation will destroy our love

The never ending hunger."

It was as though he knew anyway, possibly from the tone of my voice and the presence of my tears. I smiled slightly as I lowered my fingers to brush against the doctors' defined jaw, allowing my touch to linger more softly than Sakura petals falling upon the edge of water. I nuzzled at his lips with my own, urging him to reciprocate. I was justly rewarded as Muraki leant down and closed the small gap between our mouths, visibly shivering as my hands stroked his chest as though it were an object belonging to me.

I ended the kiss, apparently far too soon for Muraki's liking and he groaned at the lack of intimate attention. His expression soon changed however and a slight smile etched across his features as his eye followed my silken body movements. I forced my lips into a smile, trying to ignore the trembling of my lower jaw as I untangled myself from Muraki's perspiring body and shifted down onto the sheets beside him, tossing the stray clumps of my hair to the side, so that we could keep eye contact. Aware that I held the doctors rapt and unwavering attention filled me with a deep rooted stem of desire that punctured up through my body and ignited the tips of my senses like livewire. The sheets slid away from my body as I rose onto my knees and put my back to Muraki, leaning forward to cross both arms over the wooden railing at the back of the bed and then coyly resting my head against it. I turned to look over my shoulder at him, wondering whether my face was going to fall off for blushing. This was such a daring thing to do! Especially for an inexperienced guy like me! But desire, adrenaline and a little bit of alcohol had taken over by that stage and I was simply acting on it; doing whatever felt sexy and daring at that particular moment.

Muraki's eyes traveled low over my body, inspecting my bared entrance. He licked his lips and sat up a little, appearing as though he were a seconds breath from jamming himself into the sheathe of my warm body, if his breathing was anything to judge by. I swallowed nervously and released one hand from its' momentary roost, trailing my fingers down the side of my body, watching Muraki religiously, so that I wouldn't have to think too deeply on what I was doing and also to monitor his reaction. The doctor's breathing had increased drastically, arching upward to a sharp execution pitch as my slightly chipped fingernails quivered over the curve of my ass. I made a small noise, having surprised myself, which only served to stimulate Muraki further. I became aware of the doctor's own tempestuous hand sinuously sliding down the defined ridges of his abdominals and disappearing into the shadow of his loins, veiled by the somewhat starched white sheets. A puff of hot air buffeted free from his lips and his eyes fluttered shut when the willfully hot and detrimental sensation on his aching arousal shot through his body like wildfire through dry underbrush. I observed, studying his technique. He pumped his hand firmly and fluently along the taut length; often fast, other times slow, sometimes holding it so tight that I feared the circulation might be cut off but was then rewarded by the sight of his hand squeezing up the long hot member, tugging the very tip to its' full potential, making my own penis ache with need. I was aroused in watching him and I slung my hand now casually around my own hip, fingers tracing the outside of my cock with hardly any contact at all. Watching Muraki pleasure himself as he watched me to do in return was one of the most stimulating and strangely beautiful things I had ever engaged in. I stretched my body out as far as I could, dipping my spine and thrusting my backside out, mewing at my soon to be lover in what I hoped was an enticing manner.

"God Muraki…" I groaned, running my fingernails back over my butt and then daringly down into the dark clavicle; the entranceway to the place that throbbed so despairingly inside of me. "Muraki… I… I w-wanna feel ya… right here." I whimpered softly as I circled the tight ring muscle with my nail, watching Muraki's firm, strong features flush with arousal. Christ he looked beautiful in that moment. "I want you… to… to get d-down deep inside of me… quick as you can."

"Mr. Tsuzuki…" Muraki said as he released his thickening stalk and sat up behind my smaller frame, hands on either side of my narrow waist. I started trembling so bad I thought I might collapse. I bit my healing lip as he moved his body closer and bent his lips towards the center of my back.

"To feel you like I've… never felt anyone before…" I whispered, giving my backside a little wiggle. "Won't you touch me deep, Muraki? Won't you?"

"Mr. Tsuzuki." He repeated, so invested in the moment it seemed he couldn't stop saying my name. I gasped and the harsh jut of air wavered as the doctors' smeared lips worked their way down over my lower back, pulling his mouth and tongue around the muscle pattern and the sinews shifting beneath my skin. He refused to speak until he had worshipped my body accordingly. I panted softly as he nuzzled the curve of my back, fingers stroking the indent below my ribcage with such tenderness that it couldn't possibly have come from this man; this murderer, this creature soon to be my lover.

"I want you, Mr. Tsuzuki…" Said the doctor, reaching over towards the cabinet and retrieving the tube of lubricant again. "I want to dive into the very depths of you and entangle with every fleck of emotion that rises and falls through your body. Sometimes… I wonder that if this passion for you is so great that it will snap my body to pieces, as though a thousand strings have crossed one another and cut me through; severed me."

He smirked as he lowered the length of his body over mine and slipped his chin across onto the cup of my shoulder, nuzzling his cheek up against mine, with both eyes closed in which to fully appreciate the sensation that rattled his senses to the very root.

"But these thoughts aren't enough…"

"Muraki…" I breathed, my voice hot.

The doctor set to work, unscrewing the cap from the tube and repeating the lubricating of his fingers a second time over. I did not look up once, but remained stationary. My eyebrows were slightly furrowed; body quivering with badly concealed anticipation.

Muraki covered the fingers of his right hand before setting the lubricant back atop the bedside cabinet. He leant down again and pecked the line of skin trailing down beneath my ear.

"I'll draw you out of the deep end." He promised and with that having been said, he sank his index back down into my tight and resistant hole. A small growl reverberated from the depths of my throat as the rough penetration shot a stinging needle of pain into the nerve endings of my body. The passageway, within which Muraki's finger was submerged, was not a soft yielding point of entry. It was no simple task for him to stretch and prepare me and I could only imagine how painful the actual coital act itself would be. The muscles were not intended to broaden to the degree to which it would sufficiently accommodate my partner's erect penis. Even one finger was enough to cause a little pain, which was frustrating because my body kept attempting to heal, even as Muraki negotiated with it tirelessly, wearing it down, forcing it to submit. But the pain, the sting was exciting because of the nature of the very act itself, more so than the sensation. I felt as though I were rising up on a great wave and bearing down rapidly to catch up to everyone who had been swept further upstream by the current, long before I had even entered the water itself.

"Ahhh!" I groaned, a sound sufficient enough to express my acquiescent desire. I felt the subtle pressure; a cascading warmth that crept up through my loins and down the backs of my quivering thighs. With eyes raised over the line of my shoulder I observed Muraki's expression; the barest hint of his demonic aptitude in the manner of his glistening eye and the cruel vehemence of his curled upper lip, revealing slightly distended fang teeth. He leant his body regally across the expanse of my lower back, purposefully keeping any accompanying pressure off of my buttocks, for which I could only marvel at his thoughtfulness. Nose bent to the valley of my waist, he smelt my recently washed skin, like a dog testing the scent of meat for freshness and then, with an almost indiscernible hiss, sank his sharp upper canines into the center of my spine.

It was painful, but the action did not altogether come as a surprise for me. Not at this stage, anyway. I knew of his craving, knew of his carnal lust and I was prepared now to wholly receive it. I was willing. And in the midst of my sexual rhapsody, I lost myself to the strange eroticism of those teeth sinking deep into my flesh, the sharp pain that rose in accompaniment. Craning my neck back so that my face angled up towards the ceiling, I shrieked a melody that cannot be described, nor decoded and I bucked my hips back hard against the stationary finger inside of me, increasing the sensation of dualistic torture.

"Mu-ra-ki…" I panted, feeling blood running down along my forearms from where my nails, hardly long, had punctured my skin. I started to clear it away with my tongue, the proof of my passion and felt in return Muraki's thick experienced tongue slowly, evocatively, span the small wound he had made, drawing the trails of blood into his throat. I could even feel the doctor swallowing and then releasing a sigh of deep satisfaction, as though he had been quenched with the world's most refreshing beverage.

"Lovely." Muraki whispered huskily, drawing his free hand back down to caress my left buttock, massaging the tight flesh roughly to the side with his thumb, the better to expose my currently occupied entrance to his attentions, I imagined. I shuddered, and then yelped as Muraki trailed his tongue down the length of his own hand, all the way until he reached the knuckle, which was the only part of his finger protruding from my tight hole. When the doctor's tongue lightly brushed across the puckered entrance, I registered the burgeoning presence of a temperate shudder that chased thrills down my shoulders, a quiver that would have emanated directly through his lower torso, if not for Muraki's strong and resisting hold. I expressed my longing, my pain, my seventy years of suppression and frustration in the deepest moan and bit hard into my arm to keep from screaming. With great self-control, I managed to speak and complete a coherent sentence.

"Please… just… do it to me."

Muraki chuckled and I felt his lips at the small of my back once more. "You know I can't say no to you." He whispered; dabbing his finger into the still oozing blood from the wound he had made and then using this as a secondary lubricating agent as he pushed his middle finger into my body. The tight muscles in my rectum were as resilient to his onslaught as the meanest Math teacher you were ever likely to encounter but using two fingers and opening and closing them in the likeness of scissors, encouraged the rigid walls of my most intimate passageway to stretch out and relax for a while. I murmured and moaned beneath his touch, trying desperately to designate the subtle line between pleasure and pain and finding everything rather horribly snarled instead. There was no black and white; not like the contrary clothing Muraki and I wore in every occasion we had ever faced off against one another. That sort of contrast did not exist and I was a fool to have ever believed that anything could have been so easily categorized. No. There was no black. No white. Only every other shade of gray possible. No right or wrong but always, a jaded, smudged mixture of both. If you cannot distinguish between variables, then a time must surely come when you see the only solution is to unite them. Pleasure was pain. Love was lust. Black was white. Tsuzuki was Muraki. Being with him had made this every so clear in my mind. Having accepted him into my afterlife was a pleasure and at the same time the most heart wrenching, agonizing pain I had ever experienced and had once doubted was even within my capacity to imagine. But now, maybe all this really meant was that I had learnt to accept this development for what it was and by doing so, by admitting to the pain of what it meant to let someone into who you were in more ways than one, it could be balanced out by everything that was so right by it.

The lubricant made movement within my body blessedly fluid and though I had no experience in these matters, I nonetheless attempted to instigate a rhythm for Muraki to match. Over and over, he repeatedly engorged my aching rectum with his two fingers, working one hand down to impatiently separate my thighs, making penetration easier and amplifying the sensation within my body twofold. My erect penis was revealed between the now widened part of my legs and Muraki confidently reached through the gap to cheekily tug on the swelling red organ, releasing a pearly drop of pre-cum from the very tip. It fell away from the discolored head and dropped against the starchy sheets like a stained teardrop; leaving a tiny, circular wet patch against the material.

I guess I must have been feeling subsequently looser, so Muraki minimized the strength of his preparations, causing me to gasp as the fingers moved deeper and further to that subterranean, aching point at the very core. He fished them in as far as he could, bending them slightly at the joints every time he drew back. Whimpering softly under my breath, I followed this fine example that was being set and moved in time with those fingers, allowing them to delve deeper into the cavernous tunnels.

"M-Mr. Tsuzuki…" The doctor groaned, his hands suddenly darting forward to wrap around my upper arms. I was loath to feel his fingers yanked free from where they had been so satisfactorily filling me but as Muraki's hot breath fell against my ear, I doubted that I would remain empty for long. He pried me away from the headboard of the bed, where I had seemed to have attached myself barnacle like and easily flipped me onto my back, as though I were a flapjack in a frying pan. The next thing I knew, he was up between my legs, mounting me, pushing me down into the mattress. This was a new feeling for me. I often wondered how people could tolerate being crushed underneath the weight of another whilst making love but came to realize that the sensation was not entirely unpleasant after all. Rather, like a mother bird perching atop her brood, I felt warm and covered but at the same time cowed and submissive. It was a sexy feeling and I liked being able to stare up into his face, where his long, silken strands of mercury colored hair lay slicked to the skin of his cheeks and forehead. I soothed them aside with one comforting brush of my fingers, cupping his chin, caressed his mouth, rose up to meet him in a thoroughly wet and ravishing kiss. He gave it everything he had, pulling no punches as he drove me down, bracing his hands either side of me on the sheets and then alternatively bringing them to my neck and head to tousle my hair or caress my sensitized flesh. I gave into the moment, rolling with him, groping, grabbing and grinding for all it was worth, wishing to sate myself somehow. My nails in his back but mostly grasping handfuls of his hair and touching his face, working myself into a frenzy with the urge to simply devour him and yet be devoured in return. Our cocks rubbed together, spurred on by our frenzied, animalistic embrace.

"Mr. Tsuzuki." Muraki repeated, his lips breaking free from mine by only a millimeter. I had never seen him look so frazzled before in my life. His skin all over his body had adopted rosy patches, like roses blooming across snow. "I have to be in you… will you let me love you? Are you ready to accept me?"

I was a pitiful sweat soaked mess. My black hair matted to my forehead my perspiration and my eyelashes matted by tears of intermingled fear and ecstasy. I'm sure Muraki had found it tirelessly difficult not to simply dismiss with the gentleman-like pleasantries and ram his desire into me but he had defied that natural (for him) urge. Now it was my time to return the gesture in full.

I could only be grateful in some way, that it was not the Count to whom I was losing my virginity. I wondered if he would still hold me to my debts now that I was about to become pretty much useless in that regard? Somehow, I felt it unlikely that the Count would find this a reasonable excuse, though I'm sure he would be disappointed by it. Knowing him.

I looked up into Muraki's face, this man who had seen more of me than even Watari (as Ministry doctor, Muraki, don't look so panicked!) had seen. I wet my lips and linked my fingers through his, giving a fragmented, quaky, though wholly undeniable inclination of my head.

"Oh, Muraki." I whispered, as his lips gently caressed the joint of my neck. "I just don't… want to disappoint you. You must have such high expectations of me, after all this time."

"Every man does, I daresay." Muraki breathed, sitting up slightly so that he could retrieve the lubricant from the top of the cabinet again. "And I can profess most assuredly that there is no way in Hell that you might ever disappoint me, Mr. Tsuzuki."

He was squeezing the lubricant into the palm of his hand, a concentrated dollop of it. The sight of it reinforced an entirely renewed bought of quavers throughout my body.

"Can I?" I whispered, so soft I might have imagined myself saying it.

Muraki looked at me in obvious surprise but wasn't fool enough to hesitate in distributing the generous coil of the lubricant into my hand. I took the tube and added a little more, rubbing my hands together to spread it evenly about the palms. I knew Muraki was watching me and it was making me blush.

"Uh… don't watch!" I chided, as he continued to observe me with what I felt was a blatant, perverse fascination. "You're making my face all hot! Look the other way!"

"How darling. He is embarrassed." The doctor murmured, humor dancing across the lines of his face. His hands clasped mine around the wrists and gently raised them, persisting in the acceleration of this; the next act. "Come now, I will guide you. No reason to be shy."

He put my hands on him and I jerked a little, overcome by the heat, the soft yet hard touch and the deep growl that came out of Muraki's throat. I moved my hands up and down, distributing the lubricant about his member and that growl grew deeper.

"I don't know much…" I admonished, watching the restraint in Muraki's face as he struggled not to push into my touch and hinder, or even frighten me away entirely from my task. I used a bit more lubricant, wanting to make sure he was well and oiled before trying to get inside of me. Less chance of it hurting that way, or so I'd been told.

"It's… all right." Muraki murmured, his eyes shut and head tilting languidly from side to side. His lips looked full and puffy, no doubt from our rancorous kissing throughout the night. "I know a lot. You should only do your best and enjoy yourself."

I finished lubricating him but was reluctant to let go, knowing that it would signal the next step in our proceedings. But Muraki had felt the slowing of my movements and knew that I was done. He opened his eyes, smiled down at me and set the lubricant aside once more.

"Are you ready?"

I gave myself pause, only to truly consider just what I was about to give up in this momentous act between us. But then I nodded, trying not to let my nerves get the better of me. Muraki didn't smile as he moved his lips over onto mine, his tongue pausing questioningly at the corner of my mouth. I accepted his kiss and Muraki slipped his tongue over, allowing me to taste the full volume of his passion and permitting this clear distraction.

"It will hurt, at first." He reminded me, sliding back into position atop me and staring down with understanding evident in his visible eye. "Do try and go with it and shortly you shall feel something like nothing ever before. A flower shall burst forth from the seed I plant inside of you…" He kissed me again, sweetly. Deeply. "Get ready. Clamp your thighs tightly about my waist. Relax your body as much as possible and steel yourself for me."

I did as I was told, shaking so badly I thought I might not be able to move my various limbs into place but I managed it. Finally. I rested my head back against the pillow, just staring up into Muraki's face as he stared back down into mine; watching me, gauging my response. I wasn't sure what to do with my hands, so at the last minute I resolved to dig them around Muraki's waist, grabbing a firm hold of his burgeoning love handles. I mean, that's what they were there for right?

I felt his cock there, at the pucker.

"Oh God…" I whispered. Not to Muraki, certainly not to God… maybe not even to myself. I was so frightened. To be plundered this way… to stand at the crossroads and sense that my soul itself was in jeopardy and might never be salvaged. I dug my nails into the soft flesh around Muraki's hips. "Muraki…"

"Don't be afraid." It came more as an impatient command, rather than a reassurance and I couldn't say I blamed him. I raised myself, touched my cock against his belly and heard the deep noise burst from him on account of it.

"I love you…" I murmured and this was all the teasing he could take. Kneeling with his right leg slightly extended forward and the left set further back, Muraki kept most of his weight off of me as, with a hand positioned beside my head, he maneuvered himself slowly, grindingly forward. It was like witnessing the transient movement of machinery, a joint stirring in its' foundations. I had this much time to muse on this final philosophical thought before, with a blinding, exciting clarity that sent sharp pains of ecstasy shooting up into my stomach, Muraki's long contained desire finally found its' mark. I clenched his sides, head tilted back, eyes jamming shut and I bit my lip until it bled as his cock slid up and at the same time, deep down into me. He submerged only half of his pounding desire but he may as well have shucked himself in down to the bristles, the result was the same. In this first, initial act of penetration my ninety-eight long years of a chaste existence had come to a grateful conclusion and my virginity was no more.

"Darling… how are you fairing?" Muraki's voice was thick and he held himself still inside of me with venerable restraint. I could feel his body quivering between my hands and his eye was squeezed into a thin crescent. I had my bottom lip between my teeth and I was biting it, trying to push through the pain. It ached and it felt unnatural… agonizing.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…" I whispered, closing my eyes and tilting my head back into the pillows, unconsciously trying to ease myself up and off of the intrusion. Muraki took some of the weight off of his hands to cup my bottom, holding me in place against my wriggling protests.

"Don't." He urged, submerging himself a little deeper inside of me as a result of our movements. I whimpered and sucked my lips back further into my mouth. "Mr. Tsuzuki… if you try and pull away too quickly, you will tear yourself. You would do well to just… try and relax. We can work into this… there's no rush."

Overcome by the pain (finally understanding just what Watari had been talking about) I could only nod, digging my nails in harder and tighter, panting in an effort to endure. I arched my back, groaning softly against the pain that Muraki attempted to distract me from, by trailing his long fingernails down the arches of my chest, down along my hips and onto my thighs. The tactic worked, because the pain, though still accountable in formidable stature, had dimmed somewhat. Muraki kissed the side of my face, applying substantial pressure as proof of his passion.

"Trust me." He said and it was disabling to hear the genuine sincerity in his voice; for him to issue a request of me, rather than an order. I swallowed heavily, trying not to move too much as Muraki leant his forehead down against my own, occasionally adjusting the axis of his chin in order to clash our mouths together in feisty and combatative contest. "Trust how my heart beats for you… if you doubt my feelings, then all you'll ever feel is that pain. Is that all you ever want, Mr. Tsuzuki? Pain?"

I shivered, lifting my arms to slide around Muraki's hips and over his back, embracing my lover with determined strength. My thighs tightened around his waist, as though magnetically drawn towards one another. And I looked up at him with a fierce adoration I had never before possessed for this man.

"I trust you… Kazutaka." And then, with a flush of sudden audaciousness, I sank my nails into the doctors' spine, yanking his hips down as hard and as fast as I could. In turn, Muraki found his penis thrust deep into the nadir of my untouched caverns, spearing a capitalizing pain up through my body that slammed deeply into the nodes of my brain. My body arched upward, causing our chests to slap together violently and an unfathomable screech erupted from my lips, the sound unlike any I had ever made before. It was desire and agony personified in sound and tenor, the cry of an animal in the throes of immortal coalescence. My back had risen completely off of the bed sheets, legs scrambling desperately on either side of Muraki's body, rising and rubbing the material in such brisk repetitiveness that it was a wonder flames didn't erupt from my heels. I suppose Muraki could see no point in further prolonging what pain lingered between our unification and so raised his hips, driving downward so powerfully I thought he was trying to punch a hole through me and into the sheets and mattress that supported my body. He eased himself in all the way to the scrotum, panting with maddening fervor as I twisted beneath him, nails scratching lacerations into his back as I was broken in. He warmed me up slowly, for which I was most grateful. Leisurely rolling his pelvis back and forth. Back and forth – slow and gentle to allow me time to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.

"Oh… gentle. Gentle." I chided, squirming as a sharp sliver of pain wormed up through me. I was shushed, a smooth hand passed tenderly across my sweat wracked features.

"Shh… you're doing so well. So well." For all intensive purposes, he sounded like a proud father, praising his sons' achievements. "It won't be long now before you start to feel that warm, pleasurable sensation… and then, only then, will I allow myself the privilege of speeding up."

He was right. It didn't take long at all for my yelps of pain to subside into gradually deepening purrs of satisfaction. The enduring sting from the initial penetration remained as a consistent reminder of the apparent sin in which we were indulging but it was overcome and shunned insolently by the cloud of gratifying warmth that transcended from my loins. I added to Muraki's efforts by dipping my hips in time with the ridiculous serene rhythm at which his pelvis maneuvered. Muraki didn't bother to suppress a moan as his cock received the stimulated friction. I tightened the muscles in my ass as much as I was able and shucked my hips down, the force of shimmying down Muraki's length causing him to belt out a sound that was something between a scream and a choked gasp, lifting his upper torso in order to whip his hair back off of his face and transmit the exclamation towards the ceiling. I grasped his hips desperately, struck by the insane and most irrational fear that the doctor would be torn from my body at any second. My teeth were bared; my eyebrows furrowed in concentration as I tirelessly assaulted Muraki's trapped cock with the fabrication of my tortured pathway. It continued to hit me, again and again, the pleasure coursing through me like an overdose of delusion, injected directly into the blue conduits of my veins.

"Faster… puh-please… Kazutaka…" I managed to gasp and Muraki grinned in spite of himself. He obeyed immediately and powered his hips into action, churning them back and forth like the mechanics of heavy machinery, pressing up and down into my body with unabated haste. That primitive mewling sound coursed out of my chest again and I gripped Muraki's back so tightly it was a wonder I didn't tear the skin off in two separate directions. At the time however, I had no such reservations. Muraki was nearing that place in me that I had knew existed and had been explored by no one other than the man above me. I was transcending; rising up on that wave and writhing with the loss of my inhibitions, bucking and panting and occasionally dribbling out from the corner of my mouth. Oh, but it didn't matter. How could it matter when I was able to feel him just beyond the doorway to my hidden secret world of indescribable pleasure?

"Uh! Muraki! M-move… move to the r-ruh-right… j-ju-just a lu-lu-lu- Ah… ah! Oh God…" The word slipped out in desperation, my legs curling up towards our joined waists like flower petals curling in the harsh sunlight. My eyes were again clenched shut, all the better to concentrate on maneuvering Muraki's cock into the place I so desperately required it. "Please, please, please… Oh, just… THERE! Yes, there! There! Oh- harder! Muraki – AH!"

He slammed into me with renewed vigor, egged on by my purposefully provocative cries. I felt him in the deepest part of me, stroking over bundles of nerves that distributed pure, maddening pleasure in ever increasing bursts. It seemed to me that I was taking a transient step upward with every stroke of sensation, rising to breaking point and hungering in equal measure for the completion and continuation of the act. Eyes pinched shut, I raised my legs higher, clamping my knees around Muraki's chest and feeling him go deeper as a result. It shed the final shrapnel of reservation buried within my sub consciousness and I reverted to something so unlike me I barely recognized myself in that animalistic savagery.

Muraki operated for the most part with his teeth clenched tightly together and little growls would now and then filter out from between his lips, as his body moved back and forward with as dedicated precision as a metronome. His cock moved forward and back inside of me, sometimes so raw it seemed about as appealing as sandpaper being rubbed inside of me. More so then the actual movement, I enjoyed the feel of his penis stretching me outward, the way it actually throbbed within the confines of my body, squeezed stalwartly by my tight bottom as he thrust in and out of my slight entrance. I held him with both arms now around the neck, awash with the fiery sensations gallivanting through my senses with each perfect stroke to my prostate, inviting… no, pleading the shadow of orgasm to step forward and be accounted for.

"Faster…" I urged and Muraki pushed his hips quickly into my buttocks, sliding his hand down to wrap around my penis, hastening the rhythm of his fingers to match the aching movement inside of me. The double turn of pleasure caused my back to arch dramatically and Muraki sat up, releasing his remaining arm from its' position around my body. I didn't altogether mind. This sacrifice enabled his cock to penetrate even further and I whimpered at the preciseness of the former murderers dips; each one flaying my prostate with perfect, unobstructed coordination. I could feel the encroaching rise of orgasm, the rise that had never before overflowed in this such act and was never intended to. I wanted Muraki to move faster but knew that doing so would risk my beautiful lover ejaculating before I did and if that happened, my own orgasm would slip away too quickly to catch and bring back.

"Mu-raaa-kiii…" I whimpered, slipping back into the habit of referring to him by his family name, my distraction was so great. I reached up beneath his armpits (generally not a nice place to associate with during lovemaking, I soon discovered) and sunk my fingernails into his deltoid muscles, sliding my legs downward to wrap around the lower half of Muraki's back. His mouth closed about the curve of my chin as I tilted my head back, baring my throat to the ceiling and his tongue slurped down and around as though tasting me. I could feel his teeth gingerly grazing my flesh but not penetrating, the suction of his drawn breath lifting the heat from my skin. To increase the sensation, I kept my eyes firmly closed, murmuring, intermittently whimpering and on one embarrassing occasion actually squealing. Muraki's pace had considerably decelerated, as though he understood my desire to return to a more sedate velocity. His thumb rubbed over the sensitive head of my cock and I caught a glimpse of his serene expression from between the slit of my eyelids before I fell back against the pillows, letting go of his back in favor of gripping the bars on the backboard of the bed. Our bodies rose and fell in orchestration with the conductions of our hips and as the friction assaulted me again and again, it became clear to me that Muraki was going to spend himself at any second. His face was pinpricked with sweat and he was gasping in and out at half-second intervals. I could tell he was reaching the apex of his capabilities and desperately desired release. Hissing between the gaps of his upper and lower rows of teeth, he glanced down, into my eyes and moaned as witness to the no doubt despairing expression on my face.

"Mu… Kazutaka… don't stop…" I begged. Already I could sense my lovers' completion at nigh and the rapidity of his pelvis, forewarned my own hesitant, submerged orgasm. "So close… please…"

Muraki smiled, shook his head and planted a kiss on my mouth, sealing an unspoken vow.

"If you cannot join me in Eden," He said, mechanical eye shining red in the darkness. "Then I shall remain with you in Hell…"

He grasped my hips and hurriedly thrust into me, focusing on maintaining a random, but thoroughly arousing rhythm. I gasped at the drastic change in our routine and actually screamed for the first time that night, groaning without shame as the pleasure started to wrack me again, every hodgepodge of movement inside of me reeling my orgasm back close to the surface, like an inquisitive fish that was considering snapping up a tasty lure bobbing just in it's reach.

Muraki suddenly tugged his cock free, causing a strange, momentary flux of physical relief and lifted my legs, smacking my ass roughly. I blushed, staring up at him with a childlike expression, completely inappropriate in context. His cheeks were as red as my own no doubt were, (and not only the cheeks upon my face, thanks to Muraki's aforementioned slap to the posterior) there was blood dribbling dried trails down his neck and back. I could have come from just this breathtaking view alone but it clearly wasn't enough incentive for my long restrained body to give up the ghost. (So the speak).

"Roll over." The doctor commanded and then, without warning, took it upon himself to help and twisted me onto my stomach. I squeaked at the sudden rush of movement and clenched the bedsheets tightly, tensing my body in preparation.

"Gentle, gentle, gentle!" I reminded him, in increasing stages of urgency as I felt his cock squeeze into place between the crack of my ass. His pelvis weighed heavy on my buttocks, his hands positioned themselves on either side of my head and his face was so close to my neck that I could feel the longer strands of his hair tickling my ears. His breath was hot; it warmed my saturated scalp, hair soaked through with sweat. He grunted in means of reply, positioning himself above me, animal like. His chest touched my back; his knees leveraged into the mattress and managed his weight. I became used to this position after a while; he always kept one leg forward and the other back, to give himself more maneuvering capabilities; to keep greater control over the strength and movement of his pelvis. It was one of those subtle features that contributed towards making him such a phenomenal lover.

"Shh…" He soothed, sucking peacefully on the shell of my ear. "Almost there… just a little longer…"

"You make it sound like a car trip," I puffed, releasing the bedsheets only long enough to brush my hair out of my eyes and clean the dribble away from my mouth. "If that was the case we could… play eye spy…"

"With my little eye." Muraki chuckled and I heard the distinct ting of his fingernail tapping against his mechanical eyeball. "Hang in there…" He whispered sensually, caressing my hairline with his chin. "It's not enough yet… there's still so much more I want to show you…"

"Muraki…" I winced and clenched my teeth as that hard thick shaft slid back up inside of me, the doctor steering my hips in an effort to spare me the additional pain. I groaned, chin and neck coming up off of the mattress and my body stretching out to its' full capacity. My expression I knew must have appeared thoroughly stricken because he was ravishing me and he pulled no punches in doing so. My fingers twitched above the bedsheets as I tried again and again to grasp the folds into my fist but I couldn't bend my knuckles down in order to make the coalescent bud. My toes rubbed the material, legs curling up, and then pushing down to their full length, in a movement reminiscent of my perhaps pushing an imaginary attacker away. My cries of passion were so loud I could only surmise that anyone within range could hear me clearly and know exactly what was going on. Yet even this knowledge failed to cow me in the slightest. It was so close… it was twitching… a mere centimeter below the surface.

"Kazu… KAZUTAKA!!"

I screamed. It ripped from me, raw and primal and urgent, fluting out and piercing the air, tugging thick, deep gasps from my lungs and shattering all breath that remained into a pattern of sobs. I actually saw stars… little white lights that filled my vision, pinpricks through my eyes as the pleasure momentarily blinded me to the material world. Muraki's thrusts continued to work through me, drawing a gasp here, a cough there, a breath that quickly burst free as that elusive bloom of pleasure… that flower he had planted inside of me, blossomed in the light that this descendant of darkness had brought me to.

This thing that had quivered, and dithered and slithered beneath the surface inside of me finally burst free of those constraints long stretched above its' head and snatched the lure from the world above it had never even known existed. Here was the place, the Eden… the forgotten melody. The place everyone seemed to venture to at least once and that had been barred from me my entire life was now the kingdom of Muraki and myself. The keys were now in my hand. I'd leapt clear from the waters that had confined me for almost an entire century and reached high enough to touch Heaven, if only by a thread and in the passing of a second.

And in that second, something else was broken. The chains upon my neck, the erstwhile condition I'd felt necessary to invest myself within, if only to feed this delusional belief I'd long withheld; this need to be forever punished. Why must I have denied myself this? No longer would I be that tired, relentlessly kind, self-sacrificing Tsuzuki everyone remembered from before. I would cow tow to no one. Because now, in that moment and forever after I would have roses and the memory of Eden upon one fingertip to remind me that I had always been a better person than I'd ever let myself and others believe.

This rupture came through me and salved a wound I'd long since learnt to exist with. The only wound my remarkable healing ability had been unable to knit shut. For the first time ever I felt as though I had been released from something… something I had never known held me captive. In the act of copulating with Muraki he had severed my final bond with the Ministry of Hades. My loyalty and as such my reverence towards those responsibilities Enma had long bestowed upon me.

Rapture… a deep rapture that healed me. I could be this person now. I could love Muraki, could be here and live never knowing what might come the day after. I could eat and garden, could wear whatever I wanted and do whatever I wanted and apologize to no one.

I was me. And Muraki, of all the persons in the world, had let me be no one else but.

Such thoughts were in my heart, in my mind, in every line of my body as I finally came, tears streaming from my eyes as I streamed from that other place also. A great spurt of long withheld sexual build up shot out of me, onto the bedsheets and the few remaining rose petals that had not yet stuck to our skin. Muraki darted backwards, momentarily freeing himself from my body in order to lift my bottom and capture my still expostulating cock in his mouth, swallowing my first ever coital-induced-seed as though it were fresh spring water. It made me embarrassed, remembering how I had been unable to ingest his semen earlier that day; how distasteful I had found it. Each and every time Muraki drank from me, he acted as though it were the most desirable thing ever. The sensation of his lovely cool mouth around my hot manhood sent me spiraling once more and dark clouds danced before my eyes.

So… that was how it was.

When I was finally able to speak, I expressed to him my earlier thoughts; about how I was embarrassed to have been unable to accommodate his taste the way he so freely did mine. Muraki just smiled as he licked clean my pelvic area, almost like an animal attentive of its' young.

"Don't be upset by something like that, Mr. Tsuzuki…" He whispered, gently rolling me over so that I was on my back again. He mounted me, wrapping me up entirely and looking upon me with such loving munificence that I almost didn't feel him slide inside of my plundered aperture again. "With some people it simply takes practice… others simply never warm to the taste. It's nothing to be ashamed of." He smirked as he lowered his lips to mine and indeed I frowned with revulsion, as I tasted my own juices upon his lips and tongue. "It's certainly something that I would be… more than happy to work on." He started to move again and I simply held him, fighting back the resurrection of pleasure beginning to course through me, overcome by fatigue and simply wanting to rest. But not first without feeling Muraki make claim to me. This was the final cord I felt needed to be cut and to swallow the doctors' seed would accomplish it. And for the first time that night, I was able to observe Muraki's disposition in the act of lovemaking. The little roll of his shoulders, corresponding in kind to the rise and fall of his hips. The sound of his voice… not a gasp, or a scream but controlled as I had come to expect of him. Small murmurs of satisfaction, gentle soothing purrs… an encouraging coo, a little growl. His fingernails dug into my lower back, persuading me to arch my spine and open myself up a little more to him. In he went… deeper… deeper still. Touching, stirring additional sleepy coils of pleasure into awakening. He moved with such ease, such expertise… I felt like a clumsy idiot, as though I were learning a dance for the first time and my partner had just come from the finals in Blackpool. I could only surrender, panting softly and allow myself to recover from the wonderful eruption of pleasure. The abstinence barely lasted seconds however, as with one deciding thrust, I was brought back down to earth by Muraki's throaty grunt as he ruptured deep inside my body. The hot, wonderful liquid shot through my passageways and I closed my eyes, pushing my hips down so that no drop was wasted. I may not have been able to taste him from my mouth but I would be damned if I could not take him inside of me this way.

A beautiful gasp threaded up through Muraki's throat and traversed between his lips as he stretched back, baring his neck and chest to the night air. His long eyelashes fluttered in ecstasy as he pulled his weight back onto his knees, gasping at the blessed air as though he had held his breath whilst taking me.

We lay there together, trembling from the little aftershocks and reflecting on what the two of us had shared. My first time – my very first time, the moment I would remember for the rest of my life. To think that Muraki – Muraki – of all people, had been my first! And as long as I existed, I would never forget the taste of him, the feeling of him inside of me and the scent of his skin. And I would never forget the satisfaction; as though centuries of tension had just been lifted from my shoulders.

Finally Muraki relaxed his body and slowly slid his hips backward, steering himself gently out of my aching orifice. I grunted a little with every movement and emitted a slight moan as he fell away completely, spilling his juices at the opening of my cavity. I actually felt my body close, as though sealing back into place and then Muraki's fingers were at my neck, lifting my chin and his lips kissed away the tears suspended upon the corner of my eyes.

"You did wonderfully." His thick, deep voice praised me as none had ever done before. I would endure none of the verbal abuse from Muraki that I had my fellow Guardians. Sure, a snide comment here and there but never outright degradation; something I had grown much weary of in my old age. Perhaps this sounds childish, which it is, of course. But was it too much, after so many years of suffering an age-old insecurity, to experience such adoration? Even if Muraki and I barely knew one another as people, at least we could exist in that moment here and now. And I could understand kindness on a level in which I didn't need to reach deep to see, or touch or feel it. "Thankyou, Mr. Tsuzuki…"

My lips were trembling as I slid my hand up over the back of his neck and pulled him down close, so that our noses intersected. His hair had gone slightly kinky at the roots from sweat.

"I … th-think…" I swallowed, trying to master control of my voice. " – you can call me Asato now."

Muraki

17 Years Ago…

Saki reached into his pocket and retrieved a small box. He pressed it into the palm of my hand.

"This is my Caul," He told me, not ignorant of my deeply puzzled disposition. "The remnants of the amniotic sac that covered my face when I was born. I need you to keep it safe and hidden, unknown to anyone but yourself."

I took the box in my hand. It was red and patched and tied tightly with worn string that seemed to have been set in place a long time ago.

"But why?" I naturally asked.

He smiled at me, there beneath the last rain. "That Caul retains all vestiges of my identity. My memories. A completed DNA sequence unaltered from my birth. Its' preservation is vital above all else." He pressed my other hand over it. "Put it in a place where no one will find it and then do what you can to forget that you have." He ran his hand down the back of my head and then tapped my chest with the back of his fist. "As long as a part of me remains in this world, I won't ever die. I can only hope this will all make sense to you one day. All of it."

I took the Caul from him that day. I hid it. And as promised, I forgot it.

And I let him bask in the rain, his last rain, until the final few tears had dried upon his face.

We, that is to say, all human souls, experience at some point or another, a last rain. We doubt our sense of who we are and where are lives are likely to end up. Our uncertainty divides us in two and a dark rift reveals itself, out from which spills a confounding darkness. Ever difficult to restrain, even harder to contain.

This rift is the fracture. And when it occurs, we are faced with that single opportunity to branch out onto either side of the rift. Do we move forward with the provision of that weakness? Do we allow that darkness to consequentially dictate our destiny? Or do we step onto the other side of that rift as it opens beneath our feet and hold both hands over that blistering uncertainty and push it straight back down to whence it came?

At some point or another, I stepped over that chasm and gave myself over to the darkness.

Loathe though I am to confess, I had been truly confounded to see Saki again. Despite all my cynical posturing, regardless of every certainty I had ascertained concerning my choice to cross to the far side, here I was looking back over that fracture to see my brother, whom I had openly held responsible for all evil I had ever exacted, staring back at me, hands still pressed down over that swelling darkness, with the rain upon his face.

I had forgotten his strength.

Even in death, he was stronger than I had ever been in life.

I suppose I have his 'father' to thank for that.

Whoever he was.

- EC -

"Goodnight Moon"

There's a nail in the door
And there's glass on the lawn
Tacks on the floor
And the TV is on
And I always sleep with my guns
When you're gone

There's a blade by the bed
And a phone in my hand
A dog on the floor
And some cash on the nightstand
When I'm all alone the dreaming stops
And I just can't stand

What should I do I'm just a little baby
What if the lights go out and maybe
And then the wind just starts to moan
Outside the door he followed me home

Well goodnight moon
I want the sun
If it's not here soon
I might be done
No it won't be too soon 'til I say
Goodnight moon

There's a shark in the pool
And a witch in the tree
A crazy old neighbor and he's been watching me
And there's footsteps loud and strong coming down the hall
Something's under the bed
Now it's out in the hedge
There's a big black crow sitting on my window ledge
And I hear something scratching through the wall

Oh what should I do I'm just a little baby
What if the lights go out and maybe
I just hate to be all alone
Outside the door he followed me home
Now goodnight moon
I want the sun
If it's not here soon
I might be done
No it won't be too soon 'til I say
Goodnight moon

Well you're up so high
How can you save me
When the dark comes here
Tonight to take me up
To my front walk
And into bed where it kisses my face
And eats my head

Oh what should I do I'm just a little baby
What if the lights go out and maybe
And then the wind just starts to moan
Outside the door he followed me home
Now goodnight moon
I want the sun
If it's not here soon
I might be done
No it won't be too soon 'til I say
Goodnight moon
No it won't be too soon 'til I say
Goodnight moon

X

Moroaică: A supernatural being of Romania, the country from which Muraki's mother originated. (Spoiler!) The Moroaică is a female version of a Moroi, which is a living vampire that sustains itself by drawing energy from the living. They are described as being pale, phantom like figures with fair features that are bound in their bloodthirsty acts to the moon.

Reference to lyrics from the song, 'Time is on my side'. Additional veiled reference to the movie 'Fallen' starring Denzel Washington, in which a demon by the name of Azazel passes from host to host simply by a brush of contact. Whenever the demon took possession of a new host, he would taunt the main character by singing the key lines from the song, 'Time is on my side. Yes it is…' indicating that he was immortal and would live forever.

A/N:

Hickock: "Goodnight moon." I like that song a lot. A little on the creepy side but in a funny way it seems to work for Muraki and Tsuzuki. Well? What did you guys think?

All: …

Hickock: Um… hello?

Tsuzuki: (Tomato faced) I… am so… embarrassed. I'm never leaving this room again.

Muraki: Splendid idea, Mr. Tsuzuki. And I shall keep you company.

Watari: Awesome! Now all the four main characters have had sex!

Oriya: … You make it sound as though the four main characters all had sex together, Yutaka.

Watari: What? No! That's not what I meant!

Muraki: Although some people do like that. Not me, I meant… readers… Or something. Stop looking at me!

Hickock: Perhaps if the ratings sag… In my case, if I stop getting as many reviews as I would like. That's what they do in soap opera's after all!

Tatsumi: I don't actually think that any soap opera has gone so far as to integrate a group sex scene.

Saki: Depends what channel you watch.

Hisoka: How would you know? You don't actually watch that stuff do you?

Saki: Me? No. I only like cooking and talk shoes.

Oriya: He does. Whenever a cooking show comes on, he hangs off a chair with his head upside down to watch it.

Tsuzuki: … Um… okay. …Any reason in particular why he does this?

Oriya: Oh, he thinks it's funny how when they pour stuff, the liquid goes up instead of down.

Saki: I enjoy anything that defies the natural laws of physics.

Watari: Saki, I'm ashamed of you! Science is an important factor in defining how the world around us works and as such we should respect the natural order of things and not try to fight against it! Dammit, nothing can defy the natural laws of physics! … Except maybe Oriya's stamina but that's the only exception!

Oriya: …

Muraki: My goodness, you've almost gone as red as Mr. Tsuzuki, Oriya.

Oriya: (To Watari) Don't make allusions to our sex life in public, Yutaka! No one else needs to hear about it!

Hickock: Everyone hears about it, Oriya. That's the joy of fanfiction.

Oriya: Dammit, you know what I mean! Sex is a private thing and I think that's a very healthy way of looking at it! Sex is something that's between you and the person you're doing it to!

Tsuzuki: … Best description… of sex ever.

Watari: For goodness sake Oriya, everyone does it. Well… almost everyone does it.

Tsuzuki: Don't look at me like that! I'm not a Chastity Boy anymore!

Watari: Oh right, darn. Sorry but it's pretty much ingrained now. Gonna take a while for me to get used to thinking of you as anything else.

Hickock: (Yawns) Well readers, thankyou as always for your company today. Hope you enjoyed the update. I can't give you a peek preview of what will happen next chapter because I am still sorting that out myself. But keep an eye on my profile page for updates and changing character profiles. Collect the whole set! Oh and please sign the guest book on the way out.

Muraki: That means 'Please review folks'.

Hickock: That's right! Keep safe and happy, wash behind your ears, look both ways before crossing the road and… oh, what else? Um… ….

All: (Waits for the next wave of profundities to start spilling from her mouth)

Hickock: … oh stuff it; I'm far too tired to think of anything smart to say. Love you all, please review, updates as soon as I can, write MuTsu and OriTari for my reading pleasure and um… you all rock, etc. Might go and have a drink now.

Watari: On me! Let's celebrate Tsuzuki finally losing his virgin-ness!

Count: (Continues to sob in the corner as everyone trundles off for a round of Jáger bombs, champagne and cigarettes.) WHY?! GOD WHY?!