Explicit sex ahead.
26/7/04 - Thanks to Ardwynna Morrigu for the grammar correction.
Tsuzuki pulled on his trousers, but he left the shoes off. It required too much effort to do up the rest of his attire. He buttoned up the trench coat to preserve his modesty, leaving his shirt and vest undone underneath.
Muraki put his white yukata on again. He took the bottle, cups and the half- empty ice bucket to the kitchen, indifferent to the melted ice staining the carpet. He came back with a newly filled ice bucket, washed cups, plus a crystal ashtray.
Tsuzuki sat on one side of the lounge, chin resting in one hand. The lightning and thunder was gone, but heavy rain still drenched the city. The kitten had taken a liking to him, and was happily rubbing its head against his thigh. He idly scratched its ears.
"Does your cat have a name?" he asked.
Muraki paused as he sat down, as if debating whether to tell the truth. "No. Not really." He was smiling to himself as he pulled out his cigarettes and lighter from the folds of his robe.
Tsuzuki picked up the creature. The energy he had sensed earlier was subdued, maybe masked. Only creatures of great power were able to control their spiritual emanations. He'd never been any good at it himself. So it couldn't be a familiar. Besides, familiars were intensely loyal by nature...nothing like this animal. It purred as it nestled in his arms, all too happy in his embrace. If it was loyal to Muraki, it was doing a poor job of showing it.
He put it back down on the lounge. When it tried to climb in his lap, he crossed his legs and gently pushed it toward its master.
"Traitor," Muraki said without heat or anger.
The feline meowed at him in apology and scrambled to rest in his lap instead.
Muraki opened the bottle. Tsuzuki lifted his cup to assist with the pouring, holding it with two hands as dictated by custom.
"Thank you," Tsuzuki said.
"You're welcome."
This situation seemed so unreal. Minutes ago they were lying on the table wrestling like animals; now they were serving sake on it and carefully observing etiquette like polite strangers.
Tsuzuki took a cautious sip. The sake was light with a delicate fruitiness he found pleasing. He was more accustomed to tasting table sake that was warmed to bring out the aroma and sweetness. This was very different. It was crisp and cool on his tongue.
"It tastes good, ne? Ginjo-shu is much more complex than the cheaper grades."
"Yes." Tsuzuki took another sip. "I'm more accustomed to drinking sake warm."
"Not sake of this quality. Much of the flavour would be lost." Muraki took a sip from his own cup. He rested back against the lounge. "On the other hand, warming table sake balances the flavour and makes it much more palatable." He shrugged. "In the end, it's a personal choice."
Tsuzuki nodded, and took another sip.
Muraki lit a cigarette with a neat flick of the lighter. For an instant, the light gave his aristocratic features an inhuman cast, reminiscent of an idol cast in gold. When it winked out, he was left with his usual anaemic pallor. He inhaled the smoke and let it curl slowly from his nostrils with a satisfied sigh.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes. The rain was the only sound in the room as it beat against the windows, a soothing background tattoo of noise. But it was impossible for Tsuzuki to ignore Muraki's presence. He found himself watching the man's sharply defined profile as he smoked in silence.
Muraki didn't seem to mind. He cast Tsuzuki a sidelong look filled with amused curiosity as he flicked ash into the tray. "Yes, Tsuzuki-san?"
"Why do you smoke?" Tsuzuki asked without thinking. "You of all people should know the hazards of smoking. Why engage it such a counterproductive activity when you're seeking eternal life?"
Muraki shrugged. "It's a habit I picked up at university. I needed something to stay awake while cramming for exams. Nicotine is a potent stimulant. Unfortunately, it's also extremely addictive." He smiled suddenly. "All the more reason for me to seek out immortality while I can, ne? Of course, I make sure to warn my patients not to follow my terrible example."
"You could set a good example by quitting."
"I could...but where's the fun in that?" He took a sip of sake. "I believe in enjoying the pleasures of life while I can. Life is too short to deny oneself." He put down his cup, and stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette. "What I can't understand is why a beautiful young man blessed with supernatural abilities and a promising future ahead of him would want to kill himself." He rested his jaw on his upraised hand, eyes regarding Tsuzuki almost affectionately. "So why did you do it?"
Tsuzuki looked down at his cup. No one had ever asked him this before. How to answer such a deceptively simple question?
The sake within was as clear as water. He couldn't even see a reflection.
"Guilt," he said. He put down his cup. "My abilities were a curse, not a blessing. In the end, there wasn't anything left worth living for."
Muraki waved his hand dismissively. "Guilt, like regret, is a useless emotion. There's no point in mulling over what might have been." A hint of censure crept into his voice. "The past cannot be rewritten. Learn from your mistakes and move on. The passage of time will take care of the rest."
Tsuzuki studied him. There was something about his manner...as if he spoke from personal experience.
"So you've never felt guilt or regret for anything you've done? You show no remorse for the lives you've ruined...but what about patients who have died while under your care? What about the deaths of people you tried to save? Surely you must have some misgivings--"
"I purged such tender emotions from my heart years ago, Tsuzuki-san. I am a surgeon, and surgery is the art of judicious butchery. A surgeon cannot afford to be concerned about the feelings of a patient when he is sawing their sternum open. As part of my training, I learned to narrow my focus to the task at hand." He brushed his overlong silver hair from his face, revealing the unnaturally wide false eye. "It proved to be ideal practice for practising occult magic. I discovered I could cast spells to make corpses do my bidding, and use my hands to kill instead of heal. I learned how to feed off the suffering of others, instead of raging over their irreversible decline." He closed his eyes, as if recalling a blissful memory. "The power was intoxicating. Such sweetness..."
Tsuzuki curled his hands into fists. "How long ago was this? Was that when you first entered into a contract?"
"How long has the boy been a Shinigami?"
Tsuzuki froze. For the first time that evening, he was afraid. "What...what has Hisoka got to do with this?"
"The night we met was a night of many firsts. By the light of a blood red moon, I committed my first murder as sacrifice. I was careless and dizzy with my success, for I didn't see him observing me. He witnessed everything. I couldn't let him escape. So that same night, I cast my first curse on the skin of that beautiful boy."
Tsuzuki suddenly rose to his feet, arms tightly folded over his chest. It was either that or wringing Muraki's neck. Hisoka had never spoken directly of what had happened that night, but the nightmares and scarlet markings over his torso and arms told its own terrible tale.
Muraki took a sip of sake. He watched Tsuzuki from above the rim of the cup, eyes narrowed. "Is there something wrong?"
"Your spell-casting skills are flawed," Tsuzuki told him icily. "The marks you painted on his skin no longer glow bright red. They fade a little more, day by day. Eventually he will be free of your insidious influence for good."
"I'm surprised he wasn't free of it years ago. I was only a beginner at the time. To think that he still carried the markings in death...how interesting. He must have clung tightly to the curse...to the emotions I awakened in him." He placed the cup down, chuckling softly. "I never knew he cared so much."
Tsuzuki grabbed the lapels of Muraki's yukata and hauled him to his feet. "You bastard."
Muraki straightened, his cool grey gaze defiant. "Are you any better? You want him for yourself, ne? And it drives you mad to know I've had him first."
"Silence!" Tsuzuki yanked Muraki closer, his knuckles pressing into Muraki's throat. The temptation to strangle him was overwhelming.
But Muraki was almost amused...as if he was expecting the show of temper. As if he was waiting for Tsuzuki to snap.
"Do you like young boys, Tsuzuki-san? They are beautiful and pliant, and easy to manipulate to one's will. But there is no real challenge or excitement in playing with one so inexperienced. He would have bored you in less than an hour."
"Hisoka is not a toy, dammit. He's not a doll to be discarded once you're finished with him!" Tsuzuki took a deep breath in, fighting for calm. "I know you've suffered in the past, but that's no excuse--"
"I'm not making excuses. I'm not after sympathy." Muraki dismissed the notion with a snort of disgust. "Never mind about the boy. Wherever he is, he has nothing to fear from either of us tonight. He can enjoy the sleep of the virtuous...and leave us adults free to indulge in our own pursuits." He tilted his head, and rubbed his jaw against Tsuzuki's gloved fingers. "You need someone with experience to ignite your passion. He couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of your desire."
"Right now I desire answers. What's the purpose of this 'alliance'? What are you really after?"
Muraki undid the sash of his robe, allowing it to hang open. He was still erect. "Touch me first, then I will answer your questions." He lifted one side of his robe to reveal the jagged keloid scars on his torso, running from ribcage to hip and curling around to his back. Several lines intersected repeatedly, as if the knife had been dragged across and plunged in again and again. "Admire your handiwork...the proof of your possession. They ache and keep me awake at night. They cry out for your touch."
This was the first time Tsuzuki had seen them properly. Even in the muted lighting, they looked ugly: thick rope-like markings discoloured dark red. Yet despite the disfiguring markings, his body was still virile and athletic.
Still desirable--maybe even more so. A reminder of his humanity and vulnerability.
Tsuzuki traced them with his gloved fingers. "For weeks I felt remorse for what I did. I'd remember you bleeding on the floor where I'd left you to die." His voice hardened. "Now I wish I'd stabbed you even more. I wish I'd marked you everywhere." He met Muraki's eyes. "Tell me the purpose of your alliance."
Muraki held Tsuzuki's wrist, guiding him to stroke his hip and waist. "When I felt the coldness of death pass over me, I knew that I wanted to live. I would give anything for a second chance at life." He leaned closer to whisper in Tsuzuki's ear. "There were too many things I wanted to do, too many things I wanted to experience. It promised to help me." He hissed as Tsuzuki found a sensitive spot. "It hurts a little there. The innervation of the scar tissue is abnormal. Some areas are numb, others are hypersensitive."
"Oh." Tsuzuki withdrew his hand, suddenly self-conscious. He was the one who inflicted these terrible scars. What on earth was he caressing them for? "What...what does the demon get in return? What is his goal?"
"Don't pull away." Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki's wrist, and lifted the gloved hand to his lips. Taking hold of one fingertip between his teeth, he pulled off the leather glove in one smooth motion and let it drop to the floor. "I need you to touch me."
"I need you to answer my question. What is the demon after?"
Muraki kissed Tsuzuki's palm, then let go. "He wants to experience what it is like to be human."
Tsuzuki stared. It couldn't be that simple. "Why?"
Muraki shrugged. "Why not?" He picked up the ice bucket and the two glasses. "It's getting late. Let's continue this interview in bed."
The sheer audacity of the statement left Tsuzuki stunned. "In bed? What are you--"
But Muraki had already glided past him to enter the bedroom. Tsuzuki had no choice but to follow.
Inside it was dark. Curtains filtered out most of the light from outside. Muraki flicked on a bedside lamp, casting the room in a soft golden glow. He placed the bucket and glasses on the night table.
"Muraki! You're not taking this seriously!"
Muraki lifted an eyebrow as he took off his robe and hung it on a nearby chair. "I'm not laughing, am I? I am being perfectly serious." He pulled down the blankets and stretched himself out on the double bed, completely uninhibited about his nudity. With one hand he began to stroke himself with slow lazy strokes.
Tsuzuki stood by the bed, eyes wide as saucers. This was insane. He should walk out...but he couldn't even look away. "What...how..." He cleared his throat. "Why?"
"You've strung me along all night, Tsuzuki-san. You tricked me with your fuda double. You attacked me with a sake bottle." Muraki's voice was husky and soft, both false and true eyes slitted in pleasure. "How much am I supposed to take, hmm? I am only human."
Tsuzuki watched the hypnotic movement of Muraki's hand as it rose and fell, his long fingers wrapped around himself. His cock lengthened and swelled in his grasp. A flush of arousal spread over the broad planes of his torso, replacing the pallor with a warm glow.
Tsuzuki felt his face flush. The back of his neck prickled with heat. His clothes were an annoying encumbrance weighing him down, holding him back...
Muraki closed his eyes, lips parted on a sigh. His hips began to thrust upward with athletic grace and barely-suppressed violence, pounding into an imaginary lover. A low groan sounded in his throat.
Tsuzuki imagined himself bending over Muraki to receive each thrust. A wave of longing, sharp and sweet, suffused his entire being.
He wanted Muraki. To possess him, to be possessed by him...all his conflicted emotions coalesced into a searing agony that cried for release. His loyalties and friendships, his over-burdened conscience... they splintered like dry wood, ready fuel for the fire raging within him.
Tsuzuki pulled at the buttons of his coat with clumsy fingers. He swore as his wrist was caught in his sleeve--it took two hard yanks to pull it free, along with the remaining glove. The vest and shirt were discarded with the coat on the floor. He was half out of his trousers when he clambered on the bed.
Muraki grabbed him, hauled him down into a frenzied kiss of lips and teeth. There was no finesse or gentleness; only a devouring hunger that demanded satiation. His tongue thrust into Tsuzuki's mouth to feed from him, its slick wetness a taunting reminder of a more intimate penetration to come. His mouth tasted of bitter tobacco mingled with sweet sake.
Tsuzuki gasped into the kiss. Muraki's unyielding body was like an incinerator, the heat radiating from him more than a match for Tsuzuki's own. The contact provided no relief; it only inflamed his senses further. He tore his mouth away to kiss the exposed white throat, his tongue lapping at the perspiration, caressing the prominence of the adam's apple with predatory intent.
Muraki growled and writhed beneath him. Tsuzuki felt the vibration of sound against his lips, like the purring of a large cat. He began to rock against Muraki's flesh with sinuous grace, creating a delicious friction as he aligned their trapped erections together. Sparks danced along his nerve- endings, rewarding and urging him on. Even the convulsive grip of Muraki's hands couldn't hold him still. Tsuzuki was barely aware of the sharp nails drawing blood as they dug into his waist.
"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki's voice was ragged, uneven. His chest rose and fell in panting gasps. "Not like this..." His hands moved down to Tsuzuki's hip, his powerful grip moulding skin to bone as he stilled the maddening thrusts. He wound his long legs around Tsuzuki's and rolled him so they lay side by side. "Let's make this last."
Tsuzuki twisted against him in an abortive attempt to break free. It only drew more blood from his wounded flesh. "Scratch me all you like, but pain means nothing to me."
"I'm aware of your high threshold for pain." Muraki eased his grip and reversed their positions with a neat twist of his torso. "But what about your threshold for pleasure, hmm?" He pressed Tsuzuki into the mattress as he leaned forward to kiss him again. His lips were gentle and delicate, a soothing contrast to his earlier savagery. His silver hair caressed Tsuzuki's face, a feather-light touch against his skin. "Have you ever wondered how much pleasure you can bear?"
Tsuzuki shivered in spite of himself. "No."
Muraki reached for the nightstand drawer. "We should test it tonight, ne?" His erection throbbed as it slid against Tsuzuki's thigh, its impatience a contrast to the seductive drawl of his voice.
Tsuzuki arched against him and grabbed his outstretched arm impatiently. "Don't bother. I don't need it."
Something flickered in Muraki's good eye. "Maybe so, but I want to prepare you anyway."
The lubricant was different from his dreams: a jar instead of a bottle. Muraki slid a generous amount over himself, masturbating as he lay on his side, eyes partially obscured by silver hair. The soft lighting smudged the angles and planes of his physique, giving him the illusion of vulnerability and softness. Tsuzuki watched in rapt silence, fascinated by the severe expression on Muraki's face. He seemed so focused on his task as he brought his flesh to heel, gripping the shaft to take the edge off his arousal. Tsuzuki wondered if his experience as a surgeon was responsible for his detached demeanour--perhaps he was well accustomed to dealing with the vagaries of human flesh.
Muraki took more lubricant in his fingers. Tsuzuki lifted his knees up, muscles trembling in anticipation. Soon Muraki would be inside him, filling him, satisfying some of the forbidden need at long last. The thought excited him, even as it filled him with trepidation. He didn't want to need anyone this much.
With a twisted smile, Muraki embraced him. His arm slid over Tsuzuki's hip, drifted over the lean curve of his buttock to slide within the cleft. His fingers circled the entrance to his body as if to taunt him. So near, and yet so far.
"Don't...don't play with me."
Muraki kissed his damp forehead. "I can't help it. You look so cute when you're helpless."
Tsuzuki quivered, aching with longing. "Damn you," he whispered.
"After you," Muraki replied softly, and slid inside with one deep stroke.
Tsuzuki cried out. He couldn't help it. This was better than the dreams. Muraki knew the nerves to stimulate; he slid over the sensitive prostate with a sureness Tsuzuki found breathtaking. The pleasure sizzled through him, sending jolts to his aching cock. He clutched Muraki's shoulders, desperate for a rock to cling to as the sensations sent his sanity reeling.
Muraki pulled him closer, nuzzling his cheek. He drove his fingers deeper still, exploring him, filling him. Preparing him. "I know you can take this," he whispered. "This is a taste of what's to come."
Tsuzuki shut his eyes. This was sex. Purely sex. This hunger was a relic of his demon blood that needed to be fed...that was all. This wasn't about love, and they both knew it. For all his references to the familiar symbols of romantic love, Muraki understood the baseness and cruelty of lust. And Muraki was an ideal partner to share this urge: he played the role of seducer so well, saving Tsuzuki the effort of searching for another to satisfy this need.
Best of all, there was no need to worry about destroying a friendship when the hunger burned itself out. Not that there was any danger of it happening at the moment.
Tsuzuki rested his forehead against Muraki's chest, lips parted as he gasped in time to the strokes. His body was adjusting to the sensations, nerve-endings no longer firing at every single touch. Now and then a sizzling jolt threatened his control, making him shudder, but for the most part it had settled to a slow burn that throbbed and ached inside him.
"It feels good, ne?" Muraki rubbed his jaw against the top of Tsuzuki's head.
Tsuzuki nodded. His skin was dewed with perspiration. He felt so hot, as if he were in the grip of a febrile illness. He pressed his mouth against Muraki's white skin, marking it with lips and teeth. He traced the scars with his nails, unconsciously reinforcing the marks he'd made in Kyoto.
Muraki shivered, and withdrew his fingers. "How could you imagine ending your life and denying yourself this?" He rolled Tsuzuki on his back and loomed over him from above, silver hair falling into his eyes. "Something this good should be experienced again and again, branded into one's neural circuits so it is never forgotten." He knelt between Tsuzuki's legs, and easily lifted his pelvis up onto his lap. With his hands he held up Tsuzuki's knees and opened him up.
Tsuzuki clutched the sheets, eyes narrowed to slits. He could feel the cock slowly impaling him, sliding into him...and it felt like a homecoming. He'd prepared himself for pain, for violence and force...so he was stunned at how easy it was. It was as if they were old lovers; despite the gulf separating them, their bodies merged together with the ease of long familiarity. Words were superfluous, an unnecessary distraction from this intimate and elemental form of communication. His muscles clung then relaxed around the unyielding hardness, a gentle rippling that elicited a low growl from Muraki's throat.
"Ahhh...Tsuzuki-san..."
Above him, he could see Muraki, head lifted high to expose his long throat, slanted eyes shut as if in prayer. Even partially in shadow, his expression was transformed, free of mockery or wicked amusement, as if he'd discovered a higher plane of existence, a private nirvana of his own.
But this wasn't what Tsuzuki wanted. He wanted Muraki to be closer to earth tonight.
He greedily took the rest of him in, welcoming the twinge of pain that came with it. There. That was it.
"Mmm." Muraki trembled as he shifted within the wet heat of Tsuzuki's body. "You're...very good." Slowly he began to stroke Tsuzuki's cock, rewarding and encouraging him.
Tsuzuki didn't waste his breath with words. He began to thrust his hips, eagerly matching the rhythm set by Muraki's hand. The cock inside him began to slide out as he lifted his hips, only to slide in as he fell back. Tsuzuki panted, cheeks flushed, violet eyes glittering as he focused on the dual stimulations inside and out...sweetly intoxicating yet maddening as well. He wanted more. He needed more. His hips jerked and shifted, his legs clamped around Muraki's torso, his arms outstretched as he clung to the sheets for support.
Muraki gazed down at him with hooded eyes, his body dewed with a thin film of sweat, the false eye glowing. "If only you could see yourself. The fire in your eyes...the hunger that is stronger than death..." He stroked the side of Tsuzuki's torso with possessive intent, sliding his palms along the ribcage to the upraised hips now resting on his thighs. "The worst crime you ever did was to end your own life. So much unfulfilled potential..." He lifted Tsuzuki's knees to open him up further, and began to thrust in earnest.
The escalation of erotic sensation made Tsuzuki gasp. This was what he wanted...and yet it was so much more than he could imagine. The building tension in his cock, the jolts of pleasure against his prostate, the hands bracing and supporting him, the muted gasps interspersing his own panting breaths...these myriad sensations tumbled through him, a cascade that flooded his entire being with heat.
He twisted beneath the onslaught, blindly seeking release or escape. Desperation unlocked his tongue. "Please..." His voice was choked, thick with passion. "I can't take much more..."
Muraki leaned forward, tilting Tsuzuki's hips at a higher angle to deepen the thrusts. "Don't... underestimate yourself." His hand returned to stroke Tsuzuki's erection, the rhythm faster, more urgent. "Your beautiful body...was made for this. This should be...your life's purpose."
Tsuzuki shook his head, even as a ripple of excitement went through him.
A purpose. For as long as he'd existed, he had always wanted a purpose...
He lifted his hands from the sheets to grab Muraki's shoulders and haul him closer. Solid muscle and bone shifted and flexed beneath his fingers. He flattened his palms against the satin smoothness of the skin, fingers splayed as he sought to absorb the strength and power of Muraki's physique through his fingertips.
Muraki stretched languidly, like a large cat enjoying a caress. He released Tsuzuki's erection, stopped his thrusts, and lowered himself over the lean frame of the other man. With his forearms supporting himself on the mattress, Muraki began to move again, this time a slow rocking of his hips. "We're good together, ne?" He buried his lips in the curve of Tsuzuki's neck, and his fingers tangled in the damp tendrils of his dark hair as it fell against the rumpled sheets. "A match made in heaven...or should that be hell?"
Tsuzuki clenched his teeth in frustration at the change in tempo. His cock ached as it remained trapped between them, dependant on the motion of Muraki's body for stimulation. He didn't have the patience to deal with this teasing; Muraki would try the patience of a saint, let alone a Shinigami. He began to taunt Muraki in ways of his own, clinging to him with each thrust out, relaxing as he slid in...doing his best to test the limits of Muraki's endurance. His nails dug deep scratches from shoulder blade to hip, weaving past the old scars to linger on the smooth curve of his buttocks. His teeth nipped spasmodically at the juncture of neck and shoulder, punishing his tormentor as best he could.
He felt Muraki's lips slant against his skin, a hidden smile he was not meant to see. His sharp teeth sank into Tsuzuki's flesh, a sudden stab of pain that struck through the haze of pleasure. The swirling of the tongue soon followed, replacing pain with pleasure. But it was a chilling reminder of Muraki's intent: he was marking Tsuzuki, as Tsuzuki had marked him--each carrying marks inflicted by the other.
Tsuzuki shivered at the thought. It didn't matter. His body would heal quickly enough. He focused on the slow steady fucking, the friction against his cock and the pleasure that flowed through his veins like thick honey. He pushed away the voice that taunted him that these exquisite sensations were just as transient and fleeting as the pain.
Without warning Muraki withdrew, his breathing reduced to shallow gasps, his erection slick and wet with lube and precome. Tsuzuki's body convulsed like a marionette with broken strings. A whimper of need left his throat. His nails curled deeper, drawing more blood from pale flesh.
"Hush. It's all right. You're doing so well." He manipulated Tsuzuki's quivering limbs, guiding him to his hands and knees. Kneeling behind him, he thrust into him anew.
"Yesss..." Tsuzuki wasn't aware of speaking; he was too relieved that Muraki was still with him. In him. In the unity of their mutual depravity. He lowered his head and groaned as Muraki fucked him in earnest, hard and fast and relentless. He was the one who possessed, drawing out the pleasure to breaking point for them both. All Tsuzuki could do was clutch the sheets to brace himself. His cock remained taut against his abdomen, forced to take vicarious pleasure from the fucking alone.
Muraki gripped his hips and cried out, a harsh guttural sound that seemed to echo in the room.
Tsuzuki gasped at the spasm of pleasure-pain that shot through him. But he couldn't come. He lowered his forehead against the rumpled sheets, still panting from the exertion. He ached and he throbbed...but there was no release to be had.
Muraki lay against his back, cheek resting against damp skin, his breath hot as it gusted against Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Tsuzuki-san," he murmured, "your stamina is truly amazing." Slowly he sat on the mattress, and guided Tsuzuki to rest on his back. He eyed the neglected erection, the moisture forming at its tip, his false eye glowing in his excitement. "You deserve to be worshipped. Let me do this for you." He licked his lips.
"No." Tsuzuki grabbed his hair and held him away. His arm trembled with the effort.
"Why not? Why deny yourself?" Muraki twisted his head. "This is what you need. Look." He encircled the erection with his fingers, and it jerked in his hand. "Your body cries out for this as well."
Tsuzuki inhaled sharply. His body wasn't crying. It was screaming. Muraki's touch was firm and strong, but this time it felt like agony. He was over- sensitised--not near enough to come, but too far gone to accept any stimulation, gentle or rough. "Don't...I can't..." His fingers clenched and tangled in silver strands.
"You can...and you will. To live is to feel. It's time to experience the life that you denied yourself." He began to lower his head.
Tsuzuki pushed at his forehead with the heel of his hand. "No!"
Blinding white light radiated out from his palm. Muraki's gaze became blank, both eyes wide in shock. Then he pitched forward, his head falling forward like a dead weight, the rest of his body slumping in a heap between Tsuzuki's legs.
Tsuzuki stared at his palm, stunned. He hadn't consciously intended to do that. He only used this to assist mortals in making their journey to Meifu, and to ease the discomfort and memory of bloodletting when he made fuda illusions of others. To use it for any other purpose was a misuse of his powers, and a breach of his obligations as a Shinigami.
He looked down at Muraki, silver head resting on his crotch. Disgusted, he roughly pushed him off. But his erection still throbbed, an agony that refused to subside.
How are you going to interrogate an unconscious man?
"You idiot," Tsuzuki muttered to himself. He resorted to rubbing himself against the rucked-up sheets, desperate to ease the terrible ache inside him. Free from the haze of desire, the familiar self-recriminations came all too easily. "You idiot. You stupid idiot..."
You could have at least waited until he'd sucked you off...
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat. His shoulders shook with the spasms it evoked. It went on and on, a crazy cacophony that echoed in the room, the hopeless sound of a man who had no idea what to do. The mattress shook with the referred convulsions, and even Muraki's lax body shook a little in sympathy. It only subsided when he ran out of wind, and was forced to take gulping breaths so he could breathe again. His groin still ached, but the pain had eased slightly.
Should he break the spell and wake Muraki up? He wasn't much use in his unconscious state. Impossible to interrogate him. Impossible to get a blowjob from him...but that was why he'd put Muraki to sleep in the first place.
Even now, his last dream featuring the doctor haunted him: Muraki drawing power as he'd swallowed him deep...the false eye glowing so bright. Tsuzuki trembled in revulsion. The concept of sex as a method of energy transference sounded too bizarre for words, but the dream was too vivid for him to dismiss. Muraki and his false eye...
The eye! This was his chance to see it properly!
Tsuzuki pushed Muraki on his back and straddled him. The false eye was drooped but slightly opened, still glowing a little. Carefully he brushed away the silver bangs and retracted the lid with his fingertips. He leaned forward, so close that he could feel Muraki's breath on his face.
The pupil was constricted to a pinpoint, making it easier to see the surrounding iris. Before there had been several characters, barely distinct and constantly changing. This time there were only four characters, each placed evenly around the rim of grey. Four characters he recognised all too easily.
He blinked and looked again. It couldn't be.
Definitely your memory is not what it was. Don't you recognise the signature?
"No!" He shook Muraki by the shoulders, making his head loll from side to side. "Don't play games like this!"
Wisps of silver hair fell over his face, but Muraki slept in blissful ignorance.
Tsuzuki lifted Muraki's head so it was nearer to the lamp. He found the bracket around the eye socket. With his fingertips he lifted the eyeball out a little, taking care not to tear the connecting nerves and blood supply. He looked again, waiting--hoping--for the characters to change. But this time, they remained fixed and legible. There was nothing ornate about them, no anagram to decipher.
Just a name. A simple name.
His name.
"You're lying," he growled, still bending over Muraki. "Even in sleep, you're still lying." He lifted his head and caught sight of the white kitten watching him from the bedside table. "This is another ruse, another trick designed to distract me, isn't it?"
The kitten meowed plaintively.
"It's not going to work." Tsuzuki returned his narrowed gaze to Muraki's supine body. "I'm not the same person I was in Kyoto. I know your methods now." His eyes fell on the scars adorning the side of his torso. "It can't be me."
Admire your handiwork...the proof of your possession.
Tsuzuki shook his head in furious denial, but the surge of arousal reawakened the hunger. He still wanted Muraki.
How vulnerable he looked...and how appealing.
He wondered how a masculine man could possess such androgynous features. He eyed the graceful line of his exposed throat, the beautiful pale skin marked only by the bites and kisses he'd inflicted earlier, the firm narrow lips, the slanted eyes and pencil-thin curve of his brow, the patrician nose and chin, all framed by feathery silver hair.
Tsuzuki lowered himself over the other man, sighing as his cock slid against solid abdominal muscles. Muraki's skin was cooling and a little sticky with sweat, but his body was still warm to touch. Tsuzuki began to rock against him. Tenderly he nuzzled one of the studs and bit at the earlobe.
But he secretly wanted more. He closed his eyes and imagined bending Muraki to his will, possessing him, mastering him. The mere thought sent a frisson of excitement through his veins...more intense than the thrill he felt when he summoned one of his shikigami.
For as long as he could remember, he'd been drawn to beings with great power. It was how he'd found his shikigami in the first place. He adored them, respected them, envied them. He loved to watch them in action, carrying out his will with unrestrained energy and enthusiasm, unburdened by guilt or shame or conscience. And he knew that the arrangement suited them: for all their willfulness, they rejoiced in any opportunity to use their powers for constructive purpose. To be summoned was to be needed.
Tsuzuki knew it was an incredible honour to have such power at his command. Combined with his own Shinigami powers and fuda magic, he had never wanted for anything more...until tonight. Being with Muraki tonight awakened something he thought he'd put to sleep long ago. It slithered under his skin, awake and alive and eager to feed.
He slid his hands under Muraki's back and neck, holding him tighter.
He could take Muraki right now. Why not? It would be a fitting revenge for what he had done to Hisoka. Muraki wasn't in a position to refuse or distract him. Maybe he would even understand.
There would be no resistance, and no response. Muraki would be as animated as a doll in his current state.
He's not a doll to be discarded once you're finished with him.
Tsuzuki stopped. He'd said that earlier to Muraki, hadn't he? The voice of his conscience...the conscience he could never live up to.
But it was right. And it applied to Muraki now as much as it did to Hisoka then.
Tsuzuki rolled off Muraki's body to lie against the sheets. There was no challenge in taking possession of a helpless doll. And ultimately it wouldn't solve anything. Bringing himself down to Muraki's level was not the answer.
He covered his face with his hands for several minutes, defeated and disgusted with himself.
Yami no Matsuei, Muraki had christened them. Descendants of darkness.
But there was a difference between them. One of them struggled for light. One of them still sought a way to avoid the darkness within...and was making a first-rate disaster of it.
Tsuzuki sighed. Well, at least he was acting true to form. Maintaining his disastrous track record.
He rose from the bed, and got dressed. One of his gloves was missing, but he was too exhausted to care. He grabbed the blankets and did his best to tuck Muraki in. When he had finished, he saw the kitten still watching him from the table.
"Haven't you got anything better to do?"
The kitten blinked at him.
"When he awakens, thank him for the sake."
The kitten yowled and flicked its tail.
Tsuzuki rested his hand on Muraki's forehead, and placed a time limit on the spell. In the morning it would wear off. He considered taking away the memory of the night's events...but decided against it. He had come out of the encounter marginally ahead, and he wanted Muraki to remember it.
The Gushoshin was still dozing by the elevator door. He pocketed the barrier fuda and picked it up in his arms. As his form began to disappear, he didn't turn around. He would be coming back to visit Muraki's apartment soon enough.
The full moon was only seven days away.
It was the banging at the door that woke Tsuzuki up. With his head buried beneath the blankets, he'd managed to block out most of the sunlight, but even with the pillow over his ears he could still hear the frantic squawking outside his room.
"Tsuzuki-san! Open up, you lazy idiot! Tsuzuki-san!"
Tsuzuki winced and clutched the pillow even tighter. What had he done wrong now? Did he really want to know?
"Tsuzuki-san! What have you done with my younger brother? Let us in!"
Tsuzuki pushed the blankets off his head and opened bleary eyes. "What?" he muttered. "I haven't done anything with your--"
A soft snore interrupted him. Tsuzuki turned his head. On another pillow, the younger Gushoshin slept, its beak open slightly, the hat covering its eyes.
"Tsuzuki-saaaaaaan!" the voice shrieked outside. "I'm going to break the door down!"
Tsuzuki sat up, his hair sticking up at odd angles on his head. "He's all right. I'm coming to the door." He grabbed the Gushoshin and gave it a shake. "Wake up. Wake up!"
The bird spirit's head remained drooped on its chest.
"Ahh! You're still under the spell."
Tsuzuki cradled it in one arm and placed his free hand over the Gushoshin's forehead. This was how he reversed the sleep spells he cast on others. Hopefully it would reverse Muraki's spell as well. He focused his powers as he sought out the centers of the bird's mind. Much to his relief, the strands of Muraki's spell blew away like stray cobwebs in a brisk breeze.
The Gushoshin opened his eyes. "Tsuzuki-san..."
Tsuzuki smiled down at him. "Are you okay?"
"Muraki!" The bird spirit began flapping its arms. "He's here! He tried to grab me!"
"No, he's not. We're back in Meifu now." Tsuzuki patted his head. "It's okay, Gushoshin."
"But he's here! I saw him! We have to tell everyone!"
"No. You were just having a bad dream." Tsuzuki placed his hand over its eyes, and allowed the white light to envelope its face. "Don't worry about it anymore."
The bird spirit's eyes became glazed as Tsuzuki blocked out the memory of their encounter with Muraki. A few seconds, and it was done.
Tsuzuki removed his hand. "Gushoshin?" He studied its face closely. "Are you awake now?"
The bird blinked up at him. "Tsuzuki-san...where am I?"
The door opened with a crash of splintering wood. The other Gushoshin swooped inside with the speed of an attacking eagle, followed by Watari, 003, and an almost indifferent-looking Hisoka.
"Where's my brother!" the Gushoshin squawked. "Tsuzuki-san, if you've harmed a single feather on my brother's head, I'm going to--"
"Tsuzuki!" Watari waved, a big grin on his face, as if breaking down a door was a perfectly normal way of entering private premises. "How are you feeling? We thought we'd drop by--"
"Especially since it's 11 a.m. and you still haven't shown up for work," Hisoka muttered.
The bird spirit goggled in horror. "Brother! What has Tsuzuki-san done to you? What has he..." He slapped his hands over his eyes. "Nooooo! Oh, brother, how could you do? And with this idiot, of all people?"
"Brother..." The younger Gushoshin blinked. "Where am I? What's going on?" He let out a loud burp.
"He smells of sake! You got him drunk, didn't you? I thought so. It was the only way you could have your evil way with him!" He flew up to Tsuzuki and began hitting his head with his little feathered fists. "Let go of him now, you pervert!"
"Arrgh! What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?" Tsuzuki let go of the other bird spirit to shield himself from the blows. "We didn't do anything! How could you think... Hisoka! Watari! You believe me, don't you?"
"Well," Watari scratched his head and stroked his chin. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this...ahhh...situation." He looked hopefully at his owl. "Any ideas, 003?"
003 nuzzled his hair and hooted sweetly in reply.
Hisoka shoved his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and looked away. "You should wear pyjamas to bed like normal people."
Tsuzuki looked down at himself, still fending off the Gushoshin's blows. He was topless...and there was the possibility that he was nude beneath the sheets. He remembered scrubbing himself in the shower after his night with Muraki, trying to wash away the memory of what they'd done together...
Exhausted, he'd left his clothes on the bathroom floor and fallen into bed stark naked. Damn.
Tsuzuki grabbed his pillow and began hitting the Gushoshin in retaliation. "It's not what you think! How can you imagine me taking advantage of your brother? Look at him! He's a bird!"
"Are you insulting my brother now? Why, you..." He began thumping his entire body on Tsuzuki's head. "Apologise! Apologise now!"
"Owww! I haven't...I haven't done anything! Dammit, Gushoshin, if you'd only listen--"
"I know what you're trying to do. You want to compromise my brother because of the library ban! You want to blackmail us!"
Hisoka shook his head and sighed. "We should go back to work. Chief Konoe is going to be asking about our whereabouts if we're away too long."
"Wait!" Watari cried, pointing at the younger Gushoshin. "Look, Gushoshin Elder. Tsuzuki may look disreputable, but your brother is still dressed. Only his hat is removed. We arrived in the nick of time! Your brother's reputation is still unsullied."
Everyone looked. The younger bird spirit, dressed in its smock, stared back at them all. "Where am I?" he asked again.
The elder one hugged him, sobbing. "It's all right, brother. You're safe now. We don't hold you responsible."
"Responsible for what?" the younger bird asked, bewildered.
"I'm telling you nothing happened!" Tsuzuki pulled at his hair in frustration.
"Only because we thwarted your twisted plans!" the elder bird squawked back. He carried off his confused brother out of the apartment.
Tsuzuki buried his face in his hands. So now they all thought he had a bestiality kink. What was the point in arguing? He could hardly tell them the truth.
"Don't worry, Tsuzuki. I understand. These things can't be helped." Watari winked at him. "Sometimes I look at 003 and I feel so happy that I want to-- "
Tsuzuki glared at him. "This isn't funny, Watari. "
Watari laughed and slapped his shoulder. "So you enjoyed your afternoon in Nagasaki a little too much, huh?"
Tsuzuki flushed. "Not exactly." He looked at his watch. "Hisoka is right. We all better get back to the Shoukanka before Chief Konoe has a temper tantrum."
"Bring along the kasutera and mizuyokan for lunch. I'm sure the sweets will sweeten his temper as well."
"Kasutera? Mizuyokan?"
"The cakes I asked you to buy, remember?"
Tsuzuki groaned. He'd left them behind in Muraki's apartment. "Forgive me, Watari. I don't have them with me."
"You don't?" Watari's cheerful face fell. "Where are they? Did you lose them?"
"No. Don't worry, I'll get them for you tomorrow."
"But I gave you the money to buy them! I was looking forward to eating them!" For a moment, Watari looked as if he were about to cry. "It was going to be the highlight of my day!"
He squeezed Watari's shoulder in reassurance. "They can still be the highlight of your day. Tomorrow."
Watari nodded unhappily. "Okay, kasutera and mizuyokan tomorrow. You promise?"
"I promise." Tsuzuki looked past his shoulder to Hisoka. The green eyes were cool, with an unreadable expression in their depths.
Hisoka sensed something. Maybe it was only a wisp of a thought, but Tsuzuki had the uneasy feeling that Hisoka knew.
Tsuzuki smiled brightly at them both. "Give me time to change. I'll meet you in the Shoukanka in a few minutes, okay?"
Hisoka shrugged, his mask of studied indifference in place. "Fine. See you then."