14-Mar-2002
Yami no Matsuei: After the Bargain
by bonne, von and cassiopeia
For this sequel, Cassiopeia is co-authoring and writing the POV of Hisoka.
Series: Yami no Matsuei
Title: After the Bargain
Author: bonnejeanne (bonnejeanne@yahoo.com), vonceia (vonceia@yahoo.com) and Cassiopeia (Cassiopeia@gundamwing.net)
Category: yaoi, angst
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Muraki x Oriya, Muraki + Tsuzuki
Spoilers: Series
WARNINGS: Lemon, Angst, Tsuzuki may appear a bit OOC at times
Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei characters and universe are the property of the copyright owners. Our stuff is ours. No money being made here.
As with all our fics, while our goal is to stay as in character as possible, any discrepancies are our mistakes.
Feedback: Any and all comments welcome, be they short or long.
After the Bargain: Part 6
Muraki slipped into the back entry way of the brothel. He dropped the basket by the door and made his way down the darkened halls, discarding it as one would an old coat. Beyond the maze of hand painted silk curtains, he could feel the presence of others and heard their cries of muted ecstasy.
Making his way to Mibu Oriya's room, Muraki sat in a high backed chair as his memory recalled violet eyes.
Even the doctor's keen ears did not detect the footsteps to the room, the door simply opened. Oriya had perfected the art of silent walking long ago and it had served him well on many occasions but had become something like second nature, employed even when not needed. It was a clue to his nature - obsessive/compulsive.
He stopped abruptly when he saw the worst of his obsessions seated in his chair, in his own room. Stopped and was still while he worked to keep his reactions from overcoming his manners. It wouldn't be a very good idea to fall to his knees with shock or scream 'I didn't know if you were alive or dead, if I'd ever see you again,' to the man who sat there. It would probably bore him.
So the brothel owner simply bowed and said, "I'll make tea."
Muraki's head inclined upwards at the sound of the quiet voice. As the other turned to make tea, he reached out and captured the man's arm. With a vise-like grip, he pulled Mibu back to him. "Don't bother," he said.
The brothel owner practically fell into Muraki's lap from the force of the pull. He endeavored to make it as soft a landing as possible, shifting with instinctive grace to give the least amount of impact to the doctor. Long dark hair falling back, he looked up at the silver-haired man calmly. "I see," he said, recognizing the mood. His heart was already beating more rapidly but the tone of that beloved voice and the look in those gray eyes caused it to jerk and flutter like a trapped bird. "As you wish, Sensei."
Muraki slid his hand underneath the long black hair and around the back of Oriya's neck. Long, pale fingers pulled the actor closer as Muraki moved to meet him. Looking into Oriya's eyes for a moment, Muraki tilted his head and kissed him. Just a brush or two against the other's lips at first, then licking Oriya's mouth and finally, Muraki pried Oriya's lips apart, sinking his tongue deep inside the liquid darkness.
Locking the other arm around Oriya's waist, Muraki flexed his hips upward as he felt the softness of the other's rear relieve the tension in his groin.
Oriya opened his mouth accepting the invasion without resistance. He sucked gently on the exploring tongue that so quickly took possession of him. Feeling the texture of the lap he was resting on it all became quite clear. Wherever Sensei had just been, it had left him in a state. In the most recent years, he knew, Sensei would have relieved that state with murder. In earlier days, he had sometimes done so using his former classmate's pliant body. The satisfaction of homicide had reduced their assignations to but a handful and then to less. Now however, for some reason, he was back. 'Why not murder?" Oriya thought, knowing it was a wrong thought but wondering nevertheless. Still, the sad truth was that he had no pride where Muraki Kazutaka was concerned. Carefully he placed an arm around the silver-haired man's broad shoulders.
After a short while, Muraki broke the kiss. His breathing was labored and he felt the flesh inside his pants throb with need. "Do you have duties to perform?" he asked, sliding his hand into the front of Oriya's kimono. His fingers instinctively sought the small bud of flesh on the performer's well formed pectoral and teased it to hardness.
Back arching slightly, Oriya thought how odd it was of him to ask. "No," he said, settling for a half lie. He had duties, of course he had, but nothing that an underling could not do, and they would when he did not return downstairs in an hour. His hand around Muraki's neck sought contact with the silky silver hair, combing through it with his fingers.
Muraki nodded and then unfastened the kimono. Pulling the material apart, the mad doctor moved it down over Oriya's shoulders baring him. Fanning his hands over the warm, bare skin, Muraki traced the contours of Oriya's body reacquainting himself and noting the differences between him and the Shinigami.
"Good," he said, licking his lips appreciatively. "Then you can... accommodate me."
Slanting his eyes at Sensei, Oriya watched his face. "Have I ever failed to do so?" he murmured. He shrugged one shoulder out of the kimono, slipping his arm out of the sleeve. His body was well-toned and beautiful - he kept it that way with healthful food and exercise.
The ghost of a smile played on Muraki's lips. "No," he answered simply. "Now stand and face me," Muraki instructed.
Suppressing a sigh, the brothel owner slipped to his feet and stood, the kimono falling off his other shoulder to pool on the floor. He wore nothing under it but a midnight blue fundoshi. A tiny gold ring glinted from his left nipple and a small tattoo of a white bird graced his right hip.
Muraki reached up and placed his hand on the bulge in Oriya's fundoshi. Stroking Oriya, he watched the man move under his manipulations. A vague sense of disappointment settled over the mad doctor as he felt caught between a familiar restlessness and a promise. His bargain would be harder than he'd first thought, but violet eyes kept him from giving up so early in the game.
Standing, Muraki felt his body's hunger rise. Scanning the small room, he found what he was looking for near the performer's bed. Releasing him abruptly, Muraki turned Oriya around and pushed him toward the bed. "Oil," he commanded as he began stripping his clothes off.
Oriya's eyes closed briefly but he obeyed the one-word order, taking a small bottle of scented massage oil from the wicker chest near the bed. His cock strained against the material of the fundoshi after Sensei's manipulations. Turning, he held out the bottle of oil and waited for the next instruction.
Muraki took the bottle as he folded his clothing over the back of the chair. Pouring a small amount in his hand, he reached down and coated his erect cock, enjoying the slick sensation along his skin. Moving closer to Oriya, he reached inside the fundoshi and coated him as well. Moving his hand lower, he caressed the actor's heavy sac, remembering what he was good for.
Closing his eyes again for but a moment, Oriya reached down to the tie of the fundoshi to remove the garment.
Muraki ignored the man's movements and turned him around. "Open," he said, pouring more oil and then setting it aside. Reaching down, he slid slippery fingers along the valley of Oriya's rear, parting him. Finding the puckered opening in the back, Muraki inserted them into Oriya's tight passage none too gently.
Biting his lip, Oriya bent over, bracing his hands on the bed to ease the sudden intrusion. He tried not to feel happy or hurt. It was always his choice to accept Sensei's demands or reject them, but as always he knew he would give whatever he wanted, the pleasure of giving seasoned with the bitterness of knowing it would never be enough.
Moving up closer behind Oriya, Muraki moved his fingers away and curled them around his aching erection. Guiding himself into Oriya, the pale doctor pushed forward, filling the body before him completely. Leaning his head back, he took in a much needed breath and settled his hands around Oriya's hips. Rocking back and almost out of Oriya, Muraki suddenly thrust into him again, feeling the impact of both of their bodies.
Concentrating on the sensations, he tried hard not to think.
The pain of being stretched was eased by the coating of oil, and a little by the knowledge that Sensei would not see his face. Shielded by the downhanging curtain of his hair, Oriya surrendered to the feeling of that substantial intrusion fucking him, those strong hands holding his hips steady. How was it that even when he was simply being used, Sensei gave him a feeling of fulfillment, so much sweeter for being so rare? Oriya knew he had never had that much of a heart to give, but it had been in the possession of his classmate since both were young. Unconsciously, he pushed back against the assault, bracing his body to wring the most out of each impact.
Muraki felt the force of the impact increase and for once, he welcomed it. Falling into a rhythm created by his need, he plunged into Oriya over and over again. Each stroke brought him closer to the edge to dance with the madness again. Gripping Oriya's hips tighter, he moved faster until he felt the essence of his body fill the tight passage.
The friction of Sensei's passage sent waves of pleasure along with a small amount of pain through Oriya's body and he rode it as long as he could, until he felt his lover tense and shudder. Reaching down with one hand to his aching shaft, he pumped himself rapidly and felt his own climax sweep through him, losing his essence on the floor below. His knees sagged a little but he kept from collapsing, easing forward a little to brace his knees at the edge of the bed.
Muraki felt Oriya's climax and held on to his hips. A short time later, he felt himself slip from the actor's body and took a step back. "Lie down," he said, feeling a small amount of satisfaction.
Oriya stood up first, unbending to his full height. Taking a deep breath he tossed his long hair back over his shoulders and climbed onto the bed as instructed. Looking up at his lover he could not help a slight catch of breath at the sight of the naked man who stood so close. Muraki was magnificent, quite beautiful. Leaning back, Oriya crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing a little, and wondering if Sensei would not leave as abruptly as he had arrived.
Muraki raked his fingers through his hair and then sat down on the bed. Stretching out next to Oriya, he slid his arms around the long-haired beauty's body enfolding him against his side. Leaning his head down, he kissed Oriya deeply. Somewhere in the midst of the kiss, he realized what he felt was missing and what he was unconsciously looking for. Tears, he thought suddenly. Tears in wide violet eyes.
The kiss awakened something in the actor that he'd thought himself too worn down to feel. His arms moved around Muraki and he tried to forget for the time being that his passion was probably hopeless. Not even noticing a track of warm liquid down one cheek, he sent a small entreaty to the non-existent or dead gods that just this once the silver deity in his arms would forget to leave until the morning.
Muraki's eyes opened as he released Oriya from the kiss. He looked into the darkness for a moment, then down to his lover. A small glint reflected off of the actor's cheek and Muraki reached up to touch it. Rubbing his fingers together, he sighed deeply as a part of his soul felt settled. Tilting Oriya's chin up, he looked down into his face for a long moment. Smoothing the dark hair back, he brushed the wetness from Oriya's face away with his hand. Not quite understanding the feelings he was having, he traced Oriya's lips with his thumb. Bending his head, he kissed him again and then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Slender fingers stroked Muraki's neck, massaging it gently. Oriya saw something flicker across his lover's face but didn't even try to guess what it might mean. Instead, he kissed Sensei's shoulder, kneading the knot of nerves and muscle at the base of his neck. Leaning down, he pulled a shawl over both of them, the light cover protecting them from any night draft. "You are tired," he murmured quietly.
Muraki's arms settled back around Oriya as he nodded. He was tired. "Hot tea in the morning," he murmured as he felt sleep steal over him.
"Hai," Oriya murmured, watching Sensei's eyes closed. Silently he continued the words he wanted to say. In the morning I will make you a hot bath in a cedar tub. I'll cook food and try to persuade you to eat it. I'll try not to ask you if you remember what you said to me when we were seventeen. Do you remember, I wonder? You told me I was beautiful. Will I ever be beautiful again? I think it's better to put on a hideous mask in the play than to wonder such a thing any more.
Leaning down he pressed one more light kiss to Muraki's skin and settled, watching the man in his arms to sleep.
The late afternoon sun streaked the sky with purple, red and orange. The garden was beautiful, of course. The tea was... hot. His companion was tending to the business of the house.
Apparently that business brought him out to the garden at an earlier hour than expected.
"Sensei," Oriya said, entering the garden. He paused several feet away, admiring the picture the silver-haired man made as he sat in the garden at sunset.
Muraki took a sip of the tea and then put the cup down. He nodded in acknowledgement of Oriya's presence and greeting, but chose not to speak. Pale gray eyes tracked the actor's every move.
"There is someone asking to see you," Oriya said. "He seems to be quite insistent, even when I told him I did not know who he was talking about." Oriya shrugged. He also watched Muraki closely for his reaction.
Muraki's head tilted as a spark of interest shone in his eyes. "Who?" he asked, simply.
The brothel owner nodded mentally to himself. "He will not give a name. He seems to think you will not need one." Shrugging negligently, he added, "He does have rather unusual eyes..."
Muraki stood. Many thoughts crossed through his mind, but he held everything in reservation. "I will see him," he said, moving close to Oriya. Reaching out, he touched the dark-haired man's face.
A sideways look was the only answer to his touch but as ever the man did not move away from it. "He is waiting in the front hallway. He would not come in." Turning, he led the way to that area and then stepped back. It was only a few steps to his office where he could look at the visitor one more time through his special window and beaded curtain.
Tsuzuki was waiting with his arms crossed, looking a little uncomfortable although the room was quite respectable.
Moving into the hallway, Muraki felt his pulse speed up a bit. "Unusual place to find you, Tsuzuki," he said.
A slight flush tinged the Shinigami's fair cheeks. "I think you know why I came here," he said. "Since you are here after all. I thought I would ask if you would care to take a walk with me?"
Muraki adjusted the glasses back up on his nose. He found it difficult to take his eyes from Tsuzuki. "Hai," he said, in answer to the question and walked towards the door. "You lead the way."
Tsuzuki came forward and opened the door, going out to the road under the trees, where he paused for the other man. His heart was beating a little more rapidly than usual but on the whole he thought he was doing pretty good.
"What can I do for you, Asato?" Muraki said, moving close to Tsuzuki.
Tsuzuki stood his ground, studying the doctor from under his eyelashes for a moment. "You have already done something for me," he said quietly. Then he smiled slightly and turned to walk along the grass at the edge of the road.
Muraki watched Tsuzuki move away and turned to follow. He slid his hands into the pockets of his coat. "And what was that?" he asked.
Tsuzuki's steps slowed so that they were walking side by side. He glanced at the vision in white pacing next to him.
"I remembered," he said.
"Ah," Muraki commented. "And you are here to check to see if I'm upholding my part of the bargain?"
"I hope you are," Tsuzuki said mildly. "But I did not come to check on you. I came..." He stopped walking and his cheeks darkened again. "I came to thank you."
Muraki paused. Looking at Tsuzuki, his eyes fastened on the touch of color at the Shinigami's cheeks. Reaching up, he brushed the back of his hand against Tsuzuki's face. "It was... my pleasure, Tsuzuki," he said, softly.
Tsuzuki was still under the light touch. But it wasn't the stillness of fear. "I... know," Tsuzuki said softly. His eyes flickered to look down for a moment and then back up. "I'm sure what you did was for selfish reasons. But it... helped. Somehow. You... you gave me a kind of freedom... I have never felt before. At first, I didn't think I could bear it. But... somehow it's made me stronger."
Muraki grinned. "Good for you," he said, "Unfortunate for me, however. You won't be so easy to capture the next time. But, I accept your thanks." He bowed a little towards the Shinigami.
As he straightened, Tsuzuki leaned towards him suddenly and his lips brushed against Muraki's. "You didn't capture me this last time," he said. "I agreed to be with you."
Muraki's arm moved around Tsuzuki's waist. He pulled the violet-eyed young man against him and kissed him deeply. After a short while, he released Tsuzuki from the kiss, feeling his body flush with heat. "Yes," he said, breathlessly. "You did."
The kiss was different somehow. Different from the first unwelcome but exciting kisses, different from the kisses in the church that had somehow felt familiar. There was only the slightest bit of holding back, but not from fear, not from passivity, it was simply the slight hesitance that was part of Tsuzuki sometimes. Afterwards, he simply stayed where he was, still in the man's embrace.
"You have become something different, Tsuzuki," Muraki said, "And yet, still the same." He stroked Tsuzuki's cheek, looking down into his eyes. "Perhaps, so have I." Leaning forward, he kissed Tsuzuki again. "If you should need your boundaries pushed again, Asato, I will gladly comply."
Tsuzuki's face turned a little into Muraki's touch. "I think we will come together again, Kazutaka," he said softly. Looking up, he met Muraki's eyes. "Perhaps... again and again. Like before... but without the blood and death. I know it gave you great power and I know that power becomes like a hunger you can't control... believe me that I know. But it was not enough to destroy both of us... not quite. And it was not enough to destroy something else. I never understood why you looked at me that way. I still don't. But I recognize at least a part of it now."
Muraki listened carefully, his pale eyes never leaving Tuszuki's face. "Hn," he said, then leaned down and kissed Tsuzuki's neck. "I think I understand some things as well, Asato," he said. Letting his hand stray downward, Muraki squeezed the curve of Tsuzuki's rear. "I look forward to our future."
Tsuzuki blushed a bit more at the touch on his rear. "Will you really enjoy it if I'm not running away? Wasn't it the chase that you found exciting?" he said, looking down and up again, the barest hint of a suspicious twinkle in his amethyst eyes.
Muraki tilted Tsuzuki's chin up with his long fingers. "The chase was exciting, that is true," he said, "But the surrender and the joining made it pale in comparison, Asato."
Tsuzuki gazed up into Muraki's eyes, his mouth open just a little. "Was I... able to give you something as well?" he asked softly.
Muraki grasped Tsuzuki's hand and placed it over the bulge in his pants. "More than you will ever know," he said.
Tsuzuki's fingers twitched and tightened reflexively, before quickly releasing the bulge that seemed to swell a little. His cheeks surpassed pink on the way to deep red. "Ah," he remarked, at a slight loss for words.
Muraki moistened his lips as he felt Tsuzuki's fingers move. "I look forward to receiving more from you," he said. "Soon, perhaps." Leaning down, Muraki took another kiss from the Shinigami, sliding his tongue inside Tsuzuki's mouth.
Accepting the kiss, Tsuzuki leaned his body tentatively along the taller man's. When their mouths parted, he took a deep breath, and leaned back, but the impression had been made, and would stay with him. "Yes..."
Taking another deep breath, he moved back again, just because he knew he needed to get a little further from the silver-haired man or things would escalate rapidly. "I think... that someone is waiting for you," he managed to say, and was proud that his voice was relatively steady.
Muraki smiled. He looked into the violet eyes for a long moment. "And someone is waiting for you as well," he said. Straightening up, Muraki returned his hands to his pockets. "Until next time," he said, turning to leave.
Before he could turn completely away, Tsuzuki stepped up to him quickly, placed his hands on Muraki's shoulders, and kissed him quite thoroughly. Then he stepped back. "At the church," he said simply. "On the next full moon." Then he smiled and turned to go the other direction.
"I'll bring the wine," Muraki called as he walked in the opposite direction.
~owari~