27-Feb-2004

Title: Degrees of Separation
Chapter: 5
Authors: bonnejeanne and Laekin
Series: Chaotic Alliance
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Archived at: Currently at Love and Gundams and will also be at Katcom: http://katcom.squidkitty.org/
Pairings: Muraki x Watari, Tatsumi x Watari, Muraki x Oriya
Genre: Drama, Dark Angst, Psychological mindgames.
Rating for this Chapter: NC-17
CMA: Not intended for under-age readers.
Spoilers: None in this section.
Disclaimer: These characters are not ours. We seek no money from this endeavor, just having a bit of fun in the sandbox.
Feedback: positive feedback welcome
bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and/or seregill@aol.com.

Warnings and Author's Notes by Laekin:
Greetings! Well bonnejeanne and I ride again!!!! This time in the Yami no Matsuei universe. The following fic was collaborated on between us with Bonnejeanne handling Muraki, Tatsumi and a special guest star to be revealed later. I am responsible for Watari and Oriya.

Like "The Doll" this is a very dark fiction. It is psychologically complex, it deals with difficult situations as well as complex issues and it will not be to everybody's tastes. We ask, respectfully, that if you do not feel you can see Muraki as a three-dimensional character who is tragic in his own way, you pass over this fic. No need to explain why, we understand! Some may find the content, the emotions and the implications disturbing. If you are one of those who can be disturbed by such things, you've been warned. Any after effects are not our responsibility.

Bonne's Note: Muraki Friendly Fic, so skip if that's not your thing, no hard feelings.

Degrees of Separation: Part Five

When Watari walked into the room, he noticed that once again, it was dark except for the ambient light from the window and the doorway he'd just entered, and a banked row of glowing embers in the fireplace. He did not at first see the doctor. He took several steps further into the room and then suddenly felt something behind him. Large hands settled on his shoulders, holding him in his place.

"Wait," Muraki's low voice said softly against his ear. The hands left his shoulders and he felt his hair being gathered and lifted, and then confined. Then a light kiss on his now-exposed neck.

As Muraki came up behind him, in the dark room, Watari's muscles twitched in reaction, perhaps the barest whiff of the flight instinct touched his skin before it was quickly drown out by the rush of blood through his veins. Taking slow, but deep breaths, Watari's head gently lolled to the side as Muraki gathered his hair and then those warm, sensual, wicked lips were touching his vulnerable neck.

"Tell me," Muraki said, his lips moving against Watari's skin. "Do you still have questions? Is your fertile mind still processing data, or are you thinking about what we will do together?"

The young scientist licked his own lips in response and as Muraki's mouth continued to move against his skin, he lay his head back until it rested lightly on one broad shoulder. As his hand reached up to stroke through that silky soft silver hair, Watari's mouth curled upwards.

"I can not help but think about what we will do together, Kazutaka-san... but you know as well as I that an active mind... a questing mind, is rarely still from processing data."

Catching his lower lip between his teeth in a pensive gesture, Watari opened his eyes and looked up at the dark ceiling. His free hand dropped back and stroked up across Muraki's flank, feeling the powerful muscle through the fabric of the robe.

"Do you think you can command my full focus?" The question was not asked in a challenging or even a falsely flirtatious tone but rather a genuine consideration.

Watari's question was answered by a low chuckle that ticked his neck. "I have been working towards that end, but no. Not yet. However if what you are processing are questions that are even marginally linked, that's something. I thought that I would amuse you with a game, but perhaps you find them too simple for your tastes." Muraki's hands lifted, and they were holding the white silk sash of his robe, doubled. Sliding Watari's glasses from his face, the doctor lifted the length of silk and placed it over Watari's eyes and then pulled it around, shifting the blond's head from his shoulder to tie the knot, blindfolding the shinigami. He tested it to make sure it was secure without being too tight. Then he began to undress Watari, one piece of clothing at a time.

Watari took a deep breath before answering softly, "What games would it please you to play, Sensei? Even a game as humble as checkers can stimulate the mind when played by masters." He saw the silk a moment before he felt it settle across his eyes, amused at how careful Muraki was to take off the simple wire rimmed glasses, and wondered where his spectacles might ultimately end up.

The young shinigami's breaths were coming a little quicker, subtle indicators of growing anticipation. Though warmly dressed, he had relatively few articles of clothing on; Muraki only had to maneuver the sweater, jeans and socks off the scientist's body to leave Watari standing nude, save for the blindfold over his eyes.

The doctor chuckled when his discovered that the scientist had nothing on under his jeans.

"Simple game," he said. "You may ask any question you wish. I will answer with some portion of the truth. For the rest... I do what I wish. You chided me for not taking care of you last night. I won't make that mistake a second time."

The shinigami did not answer immediately. In fact he was quite thoughtful about what Muraki proposed. He opened his mouth once, perhaps to attempt to place a condition on the game, but at that moment, the doctor's arms pulled his back against the powerful, well-toned body and any words disintegrated into a soft hiss of appreciation.

Slowly Muraki moved his hands around Watari's naked torso, pulling him back against the doctor's body. Watari could feel that the robe had been discarded, they were both in the same state of undress. And something heated and pressing upwards met him as he was gathered in those strong arms.

Muraki was so unbelievably warm against his back, it helped the chase away the cold that Watari sometimes felt he'd never escape and his thoughts scattered for a brief moment as he simply leaned back and moved very gently against Muraki, grinning slightly.

But as quickly as thoughts scattered, they came back, and he considered the offer. Again, he began to remind himself that there was little Muraki could do to him physically which would be permanent...

~But what about mentally? -You took this risk, cast your dice on this gamble, a little late to get squeamish now-~

Watari chuckled, a light breathless sound, and he nodded. "I accept."

While he could, his hands came up and slender fingers stroked along the strong forearms which encased him.

A warm tongue licked along the side of his neck. The doctor's hands moved over Watari's chest and stomach, up and down. "You might not have noticed that this room has beams across the ceiling. Heavy ones, very sturdy. The former master of the property had a few things installed here to facilitate his trysts with his mistress. Everything has been kept in good repair. Oriya is anal to a fault." Muraki slid his hands along Watari's bare sides and then up the length of his arms catching his wrists in a firm grip that was starting to seem almost inevitable. He guided Watari forward a few steps, until the shinigami could feel the bed next to him. "Climb up." Muraki instructed. "On your knees in the middle. Good."

Perhaps he should have noted the heavy beams across the ceiling and it was a possible that part of his mind had registered their presence and easily dismissed them as just being part of the architecture, so skillfully were they blended in to the rest of the room. Watari shivered as Muraki's hands trailed along his sides and it seemed to sink in to him what he was about to get in to. As the doctor's hands closed around his wrists, with the same inevitability with which the madman penetrated and commanded his thoughts, Watari chuckled softly and his body seemed to become even more pliant than it had been.

Even though he seemed relaxed, he was still cautious about being led across the room, it was hard being blindfolded, harder than he imagined. Feeling the bed beside his thighs, he'd been moving to lay down on its surface, with the instructions had come. A pale eyebrow lifted behind the cover of the silk and Watari's head cocked at a curious angle but, with one last stroke of his fingers across Muraki's broad shoulder to help steady himself, he crawled up onto the bed.

Watari felt his arms lifted above his head, and something padded closed around each one, fastening them together. Then he felt a pull, and head a soft rattle of heavy chain. The pull came again, and with his arms at full extension above his head, he had to rise a little on his knees, until his bare bottom was above his calves, above the surface of the bed. His knees took some of the weight, his wrists the rest.

As his wrists were being bound, Watari's head fell back as he instinctively looked up, though he couldn't see anything through the fabric covering his eyes. Testing these new cuffs, the young shinigami's breath came a little faster as he found they had zero give. Then, he heard the chain and felt the pull. It took the independent shinigami by surprise and he drew back on the chains but their pull was inexorable and soon he found himself in the vulnerable and not all together comfortable position.

Poised there, Watari cocked his head to the other side, *listening* for Muraki's position. Panting just a little, the scientist started to ask when he could begin with the questions but then he realized that he would be asking a question if he did so. An enigmatic little smile danced over his lips and he was silent, discreetly testing for the most comfortable way to settle his weight between his knees and his wrists.

He could feel Muraki moving around him, feel him by the shift of weight on the bed, feel him by the presence of body heat, feel him by the aura of his energy which became more distinct the longer he had to do without his eyes.

But without the crutch of sight, the hot, wet flicker of a tongue across his nipple still took him by surprise. The spidering of fingers along the inner surface of his thighs, taut with the half-extension, still seemed to come from nowhere. "Don't hold back," Muraki murmured softly, teething on the nub of flesh in his mouth.

While at one time disconcerting, because he was extremely vulnerable now, perhaps even more so than at the other times when he'd been with Muraki, that very vulnerability also produced its own sense of excitement. Here was something that even with his quick mind, he couldn't completely control. Without the use of his eyes, he couldn't anticipate when Muraki's mouth, tongue, lips or hands would touch him, couldn't prepare to react a certain way. His slightly strained muscles twitched as Muraki's touch caught him by surprise, pleasurable surprise time and again and soon the slender thighs under those spidering fingers were trembling with more than just the strain of the chains.

Letting his head drop back, Watari pulled restlessly back on the chains, while at the same time bowing his chest out towards the sharp teeth working his tender flesh. His breath was coming now in a stuttered sort of pattern, producing a high almost keening cry that was nearly soundless due to the angle of his throat.

Muraki chuckled, the sound muffled by Watari's flesh. The doctor did not leave the other side of his chest neglected for very long, and when both nipples were peaked and tight, he licked and kissed the exposed length of throat, his hands sliding now around Watari's hips, squeezing and kneading the curves of flesh like a very large cat. "What a pretty sound," he said, rubbing his own erection against the shinigami's groin.

The wonderful sensation raised by Muraki's warm mouth on his nibbles had the shinigami alternating between that soft sound and sort of purring deep in his throat. The mortal man felt the vibration as he trailed his lips along the vulnerable neck.

Watari rocked gently back into the deep massage of those strong fingers and on one of those arcs, as he came forward and bumped into the doctor's erection, the soft purr turned into a deep, throaty, masculine moan. The young blond's cock was already full, turgid and heated by the blood trapped within its length. Those rocking hips thrust forward, aligning and rubbing, heat against heat. The scientist's fingers curled upwards, catching what they could of the chain as he bent his spine to help maintain contact with Muraki's body.

The young shinigami wanted to laugh at himself as he responded with a wantonness that could almost be shameful, but that low moan overrode the other sound.

Watari couldn't have helped his responses if he'd tried. Though he was bound in a rather compromised position, there was something invigorating about the fact that the only thing he could do was respond. No matter how hard he tried to think forward, he couldn't control the pace, or pitch of the sex from his restrained position. Muraki carried responsibility for it at that moment and for this time, Watari couldn't shoulder responsibility for anything. It felt... soothing.

"Beautiful," Muraki murmured. He let Watari rock against him, and began lavishing oral attention on the shinigami's neck and sensitive earlobes, treating them as he had Watari's tender nipples. He let the escalation continue, pleased by the full and almost frantic responsiveness of his lover.

Then he began to slow it down, withdrawing his mouth, moving back slowly until he was out of reach, until Watari was suspended, his cock aching, his body at a fever pitch, hanging from the chain, momentarily abandoned.

When Muraki drew back, the cold returned. Watari's logical brain knew what Muraki was doing but he still groaned with open frustration as his body twisted at the end of the chains, searching to reconnect to the warm, solid form of his lover. The twists and squirms became more and more active as Watari's slender, lithe body tested the limits of the chains and his own flexibility, the moonlight and the glow from the embers picking up the faint sheen of perspiration on the nearly translucent flesh.

Hands returned from nowhere, stilling him, soothing his frantic movement, running over his skin slowly. "Easy, Yutaka-san," the doctor's voice sounded warm. "I would not want you to feel cheated. Have you decided to forego your questions?"

The hands brought back the warmth, not only the physical but also the low level mental buzz of pleasure overriding everything else. Gradually Watari's body calmed, save for where his thighs trembled with the strain of the position. Stroking his tongue across his lips, the young shinigami chuckled.

"I'd almost forgotten." He considered his questions... there were so many. Licking his lips again, he took a breath and asked one that he'd asked once before, but hadn't received an answer to.

"Did you come here... where it's safe... to try to fix the doll?"

Muraki moved up close behind Watari, he could feel the heat from the man's body. "You know as well as I that the doll can never really be 'fixed'. For some people, broken things have no value. For others... even the damage can make a thing more special, because it becomes unique." The answer given, he began to lick and nibble along Watari's spine from the nape of his neck slowly down along his back.

The young scientist took slow deep breaths, calming himself in the moments while Muraki's hands still soothed him but the doctor's touch was not trying to completely engulf him in flames either. He listened to the answer, tasted it in his own mind and slowly his head fell forward between his tethered arms.

"Mmmm... yeeess..." Watari cooed softly as he enjoyed the touch of Muraki's tongue along the sensitive skin of his back. Then he was arching again and another question was asked. "How long... has Saki had your hands?"

The immediate answer was given by sharp teeth closing over the skin of Watari's back, just where his spine began to curve out to his hips. The bite was sudden, and it hurt, but the skin was not broken, and a warm tongue followed it immediately, soothing the pinched skin.

The bite stung but it startled more than anything, causing the blond to yelp and try to jump forward in the bindings that held him, but he didn't get very far and just as quick as it had come the pinch was lessening, soothing as the doctor's warm tongue worked over his flesh. Yet the bite had caused Watari's heart to speed up and it felt like a trapped bird in his throat as he swallowed a couple of times to force it back into its proper position.

Muraki's hands returned to Watari's hips, kneading them again, and pulling them apart... then releasing, apart... then releasing...

"It was one of the prices of the pact. Not stated as such... just an... extra expense," the deep voice answered from behind and close to the bed's surface. The next time Watari's curves were separated, a clever tongue flickered teasingly against his opening.

The words were sinking into his thoughts when Muraki's hands and mouth moved lower and at the first flicker of that nimble tongue, Watari lost track of his next question and could only whimper in response to the guilty pleasure he was experiencing in that moment.

It was an act of extreme will that helped him push out the breathless words a minute later. "Pact... pact... mmm... pact with whom?"

"The one who took my eye." The next thing Watari felt was not a tongue, but a slippery finger, applying a still more slippery substance. Slowly, methodically, efficiently...

The slow preparation was a torment all its own and one that soon had the scientist trying to twist back against the invading fingers, even as he cried softly for the loss of that clever tongue. His thighs and his lower back were trembling now and Watari could feel the strain in his arms and shoulders, yet most of his focus was centering on his lower body where Muraki's fingers were playing their deft game within his body.

A question... a question... he needed to ask a question. Watari's head fell back and his eyes closed behind the blindfold as his breaths came in soft pants.

"What... mmm... please... Kazutaka-san... what was ... mmm what was the name?" The last four words were pushed out in one quick breath that ended on a low, almost sobbing moan.

Muraki laughed softly as he worked his fingers and the lubricant deeper into Watari's tight passage. He seemed to consider.

"Demons have many names," he murmured. "And invoking them, outside your office in Hades, is not always such a sensible idea... still..." Watari felt warm mouth, tongue and teeth against his neck. "Argonathes... was one of them..."

Watari's mind latched onto the name almost immediately and as that last stray coherent thought raced off to the back of his mind to contemplate what it had just learned, the shinigami seemed to relax in the hold of those chains. Slowly laying his head to the side, giving Muraki's mouth access to his neck, his lips twitched upwards and he changed up the questions.

"Did you know... mmm... that even though I recognize that you could just as easily tear my throat out... or... hmmm... yesss... break my neck... it still feels deliciously arousing when you kiss or touch my throat?"

The mouth against his skin smiled. "Yes... yes, I did..."

Muraki gave the aforementioned area a lot of attention, but it was his hands that continued to delve, long past the time when it was needed to coat the area with something to allow the entry that was going to come... would certainly soon follow those long, strong dexterous fingers...

There came a point where the action of those skillful fingers went from purely pleasurable to adding in a hint of pain. It was caused, not by the physical action of the fingers in his body, but by having his nerves drawn up to such a fever pitch and being held on the edge of release.

Soon, the young shinigami was once again twisting against the chains, trying to thrust back against Muraki's fingers, the questions momentarily forgotten as Watari sought some sort of relief from the intense bundle of sensations the doctor had so carefully inflicted upon his body. Teeth set hard against his full lower lip, a tear escaped closed lids as Watari could no longer hold back the pleading noise... nearly a begging noise which echoed in his throat.

A warm tongue circled his ear gently. "Shh... I know you want it," Muraki said softly. "And you will get it, I promise. But there are things I need to show you about yourself... perhaps you know them already but I want to know them, I want to see and feel and hear them..."

Then fingers withdrew and something else replaced it, but that something else was cool rather than hot, egg-shaped, not as large as Muraki's cock would have been. The coolness warmed very quickly with the heat of Watari's passage. It entered, slid up until it settled snugly against the bundle of nerves that gave a little pulse from the slight pressure.

Then Muraki moved up behind the shinigami, on his knees to match their bodies together, and encircled Watari's waist with his arm, holding him firmly.

Then the little intruder in Watari's body began to vibrate.

Had Muraki played this particular card at any other time in the game, Watari would have taken it with his usual cerebral aplomb. However, the doctor had carefully, methodically even, stripped away the scientist's carefully maintained logical walls, leaving Watari very keyed in to his body as well as his emotions, without the shield of that genius intellect to keep both in perspective. Though he had willingly stepped into this game and given up control, there was a part of Watari which railed against being unable to manipulate his environment, an illogical part which had its own way of fighting against chaos.

The combination of anticipating Muraki's heat but instead being penetrated by a... thing... even if that thing brought intense pleasure, infuriated the already tense shinigami. Luckily the doctor had that strong arm around the slender body but even in that hold, Watari exhibited a hell of a lot of strength as he lunged forward and then seemed to rear back, trying to get his legs under him to jump against the holding cuffs. The pleasure wrought on his body, while physically exciting, added to his agitation because it just teased him with his own helplessness... his own damn helplessness and what was worse... it teased him with a touch devoid of warmth, or the contact he had come to need from Muraki.

Watari almost seemed to seek some sort of pain to help offset the vulnerability he loathed to admit to, but he didn't have quite that much play due to the arm around him, however... Muraki got his howl... got his scream... the doctor could decide for himself, if it was a scream of pleasure...

or agonizing pain.

The moment Muraki felt the shinigami's reaction, a second arm joined the first, holding Watari tightly against the doctor, letting him feel the heat he wanted, heavy and firm, pressed against his rear curves. The strength of those arms held Watari, held him as he bucked and thrashed, screaming his defiance, his desperate need, his anger. Muraki's head could be felt alongside Watari's, lips pressed against his temple, his cheek. "Yutaka... Yutaka... hate me, if your spirit drives you to..."

The vibration inside Watari's body increased slowly, sending sensations directly through the shinigami's prostate, rocking against it as well, moving with the violent motions of his struggle.

Watari's struggles slowly... slowly seemed to abate as the heat and the strength of his lover penetrated his overwrought mind. Gradually, he felt the anger and the pain drift back and away, replaced by the physical pleasure of the item in his body and -Enma help him- the arms around him.

He was vulnerable, but for once... not completely alone.

Breath by panted breath he began to relax and yet at the same time, thrum with the pleasure of the action against his prostate. Watari shook his head slowly from side to side, a small whimper escaping him as a shift of his hips brought the device up against the bundle of nerves in a way that sent a whole new set of sensations through him.

Still panting, he turned his head slightly till he could rest it briefly against Muraki's. "I... if I could hate you..." he paused and licked his lips. "I should... shouldn't I? But I can't."

Muraki nuzzled the side of Watari's face, the caress tender and gentle. Watari could feel the pounding of the doctor's heart against his back, even through the sensations the vibrator was sending against his nerves. Still holding Watari securely, one of the doctor's hands slid down to encircle the shinigami's cock, and he began to stroke it as the vibrations continued to increase in strength.

The journey had not been an easy one and there was no guarantee that it would be easy the next time either, but for this moment in time, Watari embraced the idea Muraki had suggested earlier and he didn't hold back. It took him a moment to pick up the rhythm between the dual sensations of the doctor's skillful fingers on his aching flesh and the naughty little vibrator at work in his passage but Watari caught on quickly and began to move fluidly between the two.

His head slowly fell back and his lips parted, the tip of a nimble pink tongue touching his top lip as soft sounds of pleasure, gradually growing and deepening to low growls of excitement, need and want echoed from deep within his chest. Soon Watari's body was moving with and within Muraki's hold, sliding against the doctor's bare torso with a writhing motion, completely responsive to the dual sensations Muraki controlled.

Muraki's mouth fastened on Watari's neck, no longer tender, but hot, and hungry. "Tell me what you want," he said against Watari's ear. "Tell me and I will give it to you..."

At that moment, it didn't even occur to Watari to feel so much as a twinge of shame or guilt as he readily supplied, "You... Kazutaka... I want you." The words groaned out between quick breaths, the doctor's name given to him so that Muraki would know, Watari wasn't fantasizing about being with someone else.

 A hand slipped down between their bodies and the vibrator was slipped out and discarded. Then the same hand rose to Watari's bound wrists, and they were unhooked from the chain, though still bound together. Muraki helped his lover lean forward, arms in front of him, not able to take his weight yet, a pillow pushed under his cheek. Then Watari felt what he had asked for. Muraki's thick, heavy erection pushing into him, stretching him, filling him completely. All the way in, then sliding back, then thrusting in again...

Watari could feel his arms start to tingle the minute they were released from their overhead position and was grateful for Muraki's assistance, else he would have ended up faceplanting rather gracelessly into the mattress. Though, at that moment, he probably would not have cared. He turned his cheek on the pillow, resting his blind-folded head there, his torso moving rapidly with quick, almost desperate breaths of air which came into his lungs only to be expelled in a low, throaty cry of exaltation as he felt Muraki's length penetrate him to the hilt, filling him... connecting him.

As the doctor set up the rhythm, Watari was quick to pick it up, not needing the false starts of the previous two encounters to match his thrusts back, and the clamping of his internal muscles around Muraki's cock as they moved together with strong, deep thrusts. Already driven towards the edge, the young shinigami's immortal body was shuddering with the need to release but the feeling of the madman fucking him was too good to give up... not just yet.

However the madman wasn't taking 'not yet' for an answer. His hips snapped, sending each thrust against the pulsing sensitive spot inside. Relentless, powerful, raw, he drove into Watari's yielding, dancing body, demanding his due.

While normally Watari believed his will to be equal to Enma's himself, on this night there was no way he could deny Muraki what he sought. It seemed as if every muscle in the shinigami's body drew taut in the fight to keep from tipping over the edge but in the end it was a fruitless battle that just intensified the climax's fallout when it came. There was one moment where the scientist was perfectly still, lips parted and pressed against the pillow, then his cry of total and complete release echoed within the darkened room of the small guest cottage as he came almost violently against Muraki's hand and beneath the doctor's thrusting body, internal muscles grasping the other man's erection in spasmodic clenches.

His reward was the sensation, melding into his climax, of his lover's cock pulsing and releasing its warm wet load within him.

Muraki continued to thrust, easing the pace and power, as they both carried through the wave of sensations. Slowly, he moved back, but before Watari could feel abandoned, he was being turned over and pulled into those strong arms, against Muraki's body, the doctor's lungs working to replenish air just as Watari's were doing. He was held, cradled, stroked with fingers still moist with his own seed. A relaxed, sated stillness fell across the two lying across the middle of the bed.

Completely spent, in a way he could not remember ever having felt before, Watari's long limbs folded up against Muraki's hold like a pliant doll. His forehead rested against Muraki's collarbone, moist lips laying very lightly, almost by accident, against his lover's skin, and the doctor could probably feel the quick intakes of air passing through the shinigami's open mouth. Pulling his still numb but slightly tingly arms up, Watari rested his palms very lightly against Muraki's chest. The touch was not meant to push the doctor away but rather it was a good place for bound hands to be, in Watari's mind.

Held in the arms of a brutal murderer, Watari didn't so much as move to guard or conceal himself.

After resting for a little while, the murderer began gently massaging Watari's arms back to life.

Lips brushed Watari's ear. "...beautiful..."

His breath returning, Watari left his lips resting against Muraki's collarbone so it was easy for the doctor to feel the smile and the soft... genuine chuckle that came from the scientist, but other than that, Watari seemed loath to break the comfortable quiet which had fallen between them. Against Muraki's chest, the shinigami's fingers began to flex and work, helping the other man's deft hands as the pins and needles sensation eased and his muscles just felt wonderfully limp and totally relaxed.

Only then did Watari begin to gently rub his face against Muraki's shoulder until he managed to get the blindfold up over his nose and eyes far enough that by leaning back, he could look to his lover's face.

Muraki chuckled, the sound a little hoarse, and he reached up and finished the job of pulling the silk off Watari's head. "I think I like blindfolding you."

Blinking a couple of times, though the moonlight really wasn't that intense, Watari settled his head down on Muraki's shoulder, where he could rest it but still see the other man's face. His lips twitched in a gentle expression as Muraki chuckled and the doctor's words drew a soft laugh of his own.

"You do?" Watari asked and there was no hiding the hoarseness of his voice, but it didn't appear to disturb him.

"I do."

Muraki brushed strands of blond hair back from Watari's face. "The temptation to keep you, bound and blindfolded, is remarkably strong. The knowledge that it would take a great deal more effort to do so only enhances the appeal." The doctor's lips curved in a smile that could only be described as a bit mad.

The young shinigami chuckled softly and closed his eyes, turning towards the light touch of fingers brushing back his hair.

"Yes, I would have to at least make it worth your while to attempt such."

The slender body shifted a little as if to accent this but after he shifted he settled back down against Muraki's powerful form, apparently content to stay right where he was, despite the rather arch statement from the doctor.

"Besides, wouldn't you eventually grow tired of having me to play with at will?"

Muraki stroked Watari's lovely gold hair, his expression neutral, as if considering.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "The more I play with you, the more fascinating you become." His lips curved again, eyes drifting from the silky hair he was stroking to his own hand, studying its movement with what almost looked like curiosity, then back to Watari's face.

Though Muraki's face was still blurry, Watari was able to track the way the other man's eyes moved and the handsome features moved into an expression he recognized as curiosity. Taking his eyes off Muraki's face, the young shinigami focused instead on the broad chest he rested against, he could see clearly the way muscle played beneath pale, smooth skin and after a moment he reached with his fingers to touch and stroke along the powerful lines of muscle and bone.

His mind was once again busily processing, though it seemed content to focus on Muraki and on Watari himself as he considered what had happened between them just now. Chewing his lower lip in a pensive manner, the scientist tasted different words, different conversational gambits but all of them were summarily discarded and with a breath he relaxed even more against Muraki, almost seeming to mold against the larger man.

"Why did you think I wanted to hate you?"

The doctor smiled, shrugging slightly, but not enough to discomfit his guest. "You were angry," he said. The smile curved a little more. "You don't like pleasure devices?"

Bound wrists held together, the blond's fingers moved till he was lightly tracing a circle around one mauve nipple with his index finger. Gold brows furrowed and Watari waggled his head from side to side.

"It... surprised me. I expected something different and it surprised me. It's not that I don't like surprises... after all some of the greatest discoveries come from unexpected sources." The shinigami's voice trailed off and then the corner of his lips quirked upwards. "But sometimes too many surprises, in a short amount of time can become... frustrating, because you can't catch your breath long enough to put them into logical context."

Muraki nodded, tracing lightly over Watari's mouth with a fingertip as he was being traced by Watari's hands. "It was magnificent. A very pleasing surprise, for me. I'm already pondering how to bring you to that state again. I don't doubt it will be harder next time. But so very worth it. I felt your rage and your scream all the way to the pit of my soul."

Watari wrinkled his nose almost primly. "I dislike such displays. They are pointless as they don't often succeed in any helpful way." The scientist chuckled then, lips nipping at Muraki's fingertip, trying to capture it between his teeth, amber eyes once again focused on the other man's face, though his fingers continued their sensual play with his lover's nipples. "Why does it not surprise me that getting me to loose my temper, so to speak, amuses you? Would you enjoy it as much were I not helpless when it happened? When I could direct my rage instead of throw myself on it?"

Muraki laughed, the sound low and rich. "You misunderstand. Amuse is not the correct word, except in the broadest sense. It did not amuse me. It excited me. It aroused me. It captured me..." He slid his hand around Watari's throat and tilted the blond's head up, bending to take a deep, pornographic kiss.

Watari's lips parted almost immediately to receive that kiss and as Muraki raised the stakes with the depth and thoroughness of the exchange, Watari could feel his recently sated body beginning to respond, humming once again with excitement and growing arousal. He matched Muraki's kiss, raw thrust for raw thrust, twining his tongue with the doctor's and even, at one point, pushing Muraki's tongue aside so he could delve deep into his lover's mouth, tickling at his teeth and gums before Muraki drew back and the kiss ended.

Lifting his head after they were both breathing more deeply, Muraki stroked Watari's neck possessively. "Would I enjoy it as much if you were not helpless? Possibly, but in a different way. However, I suspect you are not really all that helpless, even in these bonds. Playing with you is like playing with a tiger. It may wear a collar but that means far less to the tiger than to the man. I begin to suspect you capable of savaging me, if I fail to confuse, and amuse, you. That of course only increases the attraction."

Stroking his tongue across his slightly swollen lips in an effort to catch the last bits of taste, Watari felt his lips curve up in a smile that was just kept from being malicious by welcoming seductiveness. "Interesting. It would appear, perhaps, that we both have a tiger by the tail, for I don't like to contemplate what might happen to me should I fail to amuse and interest you... yet I can never truly place it out of my mind lest I risk complacency and then you strike. So why is it that despite the danger, there is still... safety in your arms?"

"Perhaps, having looked deeper than others, you have begun to understand the logic of my madness," Muraki murmured, turning Watari's head so he could once again kiss and lick along the line of his jugular, a place the doctor returned to over and over as if drawn by the pulse of blood under the skin.

As he did so, the hand not occupied at Watari's throat began to wander down the shinigami's body to his lap, sliding through his nest of curls to palm Watari's balls, rocking them gently.

Head lolling back, exposing the slender line of his throat for the teasing touches of lips, breath and tongue, Muraki felt Watari's soft chuckle as a vibration against his mouth, "Or perhaps I'm learning to embrace my damnation."

The last words had a low hiss tacked on to it as that wandering hand moved to touch him. Above the vulnerable, sensitive organs, the blond's cock was nearly back to half mast and it gave a twitch as if to remind the doctor's hand of its presence. Slender legs began to move restlessly against Muraki's form, a slow, sensual squirm.

Watari could feel the mouth against his throat smile as the doctor noted his responses. "That would be delicious," he said, peeling back his lips to let his teeth press against the skin. "Your damnation is so very eager to embrace... you..."

The hand cupping Watari's balls closed a little to give them a gentle squeeze, and then a harder one, massaging the firm ovals and pulling down on them, then letting them return. Squeeze... pull...release...

Another throaty chuckle vibrated against the doctor's strong teeth and then Watari groaned softly as the mortal man began to delicately torment his balls. Turning his head, the young shinigami slowly became aware that for the first time while engaged in such play, his teeth were in striking distance. Breathing, with rapidly deepening breaths, Watari waited until Muraki's hand went for that slightly harder squeeze, the one that was just edgy enough to make the shinigami catch his breath, and then he darted forward and brazenly bit down on the fleshy muscle between the doctor's neck and shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to let Muraki *feel* it.

The hand around Watari's sac tightened fractionally more than before, but not enough to hurt. As Watari bit down on Muraki's neck, the doctor tilted his head back as if coaxing him to bite harder. Squeeze.... pull.... release...

The doctor's hand soon caused the scientist's lower body to move in a slightly circular motion, as if Watari couldn't figure out whether he wanted to try to escape or beg for more of Muraki's touch.

Releasing the bit of flesh he had nipped, Watari amused himself, kissing and licking the abused flesh as if in gentle apology, tasting Muraki's skin and moving along till he could feel the beat of the carotid against his tongue. Then he turned, moving up the more sensitive skin of the throat, picking his spot before once again biting down on Muraki's throat, sucking hard against the flesh trapped between his teeth.

Watari felt the muscles under his mouth react, tensing then relaxing against and into the sting. Muraki's hand continued to squeeze and stroke his balls, then the grip shifted a little, allowing the two extended middle fingers of the hand to probe beneath the sac, finding Watari's opening. Most of his lover's seed had slowly seeped out through the action of gravity, but Muraki made use of it, coating his fingers and pushing the thick stuff back inside. Deftly, he felt within for the sensitive spot, finding it.

Though he was intently focused on nibbling and drawing a bruise up on Muraki's neck, Watari felt those fingers begin to move and a minute tension broke out in his lower limbs as he anticipated their touch. Uncertain of Muraki's intentions, when the two crafty digits pressed into his body, the shinigami broke the seal of his lips, still holding Muraki's throat with his teeth, but now he sucked in a deep breath of air as the mortal man's touch set him wiggling and squirming against Muraki's hold.

As he turned slightly towards the doctor, Muraki's abdomen was bumped by a now fully erect cock, a small smear of precum left against his pale skin.

A smile stretched Muraki's lips as he felt the movement. He played with Watari a little more, nudging the prostate and stroking his fingertips over the slight hummock within. When the squirming increased, he slowly pulled his hand out and away. The next thing Watari felt was a slow tumble as the doctor used both hands to shift the shinigami's position, turning him and laying him on his back on the bed, the top of his head pointed towards the footboard. He rose over Watari, spreading the shinigami's legs wide apart, bending them at the knees, and then settling himself between them, leaning on one arm over his captive. Looking into Watari's eyes, he began to press his cock, now quite erect, against the opening. His eyes studied Watari's face for every nuance of expression as he began to enter the blond, slowly... so very slowly, exquisitely slowly.

Watari wasn't certain what to expect as he felt himself tumbled back against the firm mattress with it's soft comforter cover. Releasing Muraki's neck as the doctor moved up and over him, the young blond allowed himself to be positioned, one eyebrow lifting in a curious expression. To this point, Watari had found great pleasure in Muraki's bed, even despite his reservations and his attempts to rationalize his enjoyment to himself, but as the doctor moved between his legs, blanketing his body and holding him captive in such a way, the shinigami reached another level.

As his eyes closed, an expression of impassioned bliss broke out on his features, there was no denying that what Muraki was doing, so... wonderfully slowly... was something that Watari seriously and openly enjoyed. Not a response drawn strictly from the physical but a whole package deal and in a silent gesture to show Muraki that what he was doing was intensely appreciated, Watari stretched his still bound hands up and over his head, settling them almost off the foot of the bed as if they were bound by an unseen rope coming from under the bed. Fingers hooking into the edge of the mattress, the scientist stretched his body beneath his lover's powerful form, a pleasured growl coming from deep in his throat with each slow glide of Muraki's cock into his body.

The doctor's smile curved wider, feeling the shinigami's stretch against his own body and feeling it in the tightening of muscles around his cock. The visual image that Watari gave him by lifting his arms was also intensely pleasing. Continuing to move deeper, Muraki finally seated himself fully, pressing his body flat against the cradle of Watari's pelvic bone. Muraki leaned lower on his arm, letting a bit of his weight down on Watari's chest and stomach, bending to lick his upper and then lower lip and then kiss him deeply. The hand not supporting his weight stroked along Watari's thigh, petting him.

Leaning back a little, breaking the deep kiss, Muraki slid his hand under Watari's knee, lifting his leg higher, until it rested on his shoulder. The shift allowed Muraki to settle even deeper inside, deeper that Watari had even felt before.

The growl softened to a low groan as Muraki moved to settled against the welcoming cradle of Watari's sprawled body. Turning his head to the side, the blond's eyes drifted shut on an expression of exquisite pleasure as he felt Muraki's weight against him and Watari turned back so that he met the touch of his lover's tongue and mouth, almost greedily reaching for the deeper kiss that followed and exhaling a content sigh down Muraki's throat. Though the need to bring his hands up and touch Muraki was intense, Watari gripped the mattress hard enough to pull at the neatly tucked sheets, the tension made by the way his body was drawn taut between the hold of his hands and the position of his legs helped the scientist press his aching length up against Muraki's trim belly.

Then Muraki jerked his hips back suddenly, all but the head of his cock emerging from Watari's tight passage, and the doctor slammed his hips forward, impaling his lover completely with a hard, powerful thrust.

The sudden movement of the madman's lower body, back almost to the edge and then the power of the thrust forward caused the shinigami to toss his head back and this time there was no mistaking the cry from his throat was one of intense pleasure.

Muraki followed the deep thrust with the commencement of movement, as he began fucking his captive lover, the strokes long and deep, the tempo slow at first, but gradually increasing. Every second or third thrust, he twisted his hips slightly, giving Watari's prostate a variation in the stimulation it was receiving.

Though it was tricky being on his back, Watari used the leverage from his grip on to the bed and the one foot still pressed against the mattress to help him establish a rhythm to match Muraki's. Arching into the doctor's thrusts, but letting his lover set the twisting motion, choosing to match it with firm, milking clenchings of his internal muscles, holding Muraki's cock captive almost as the doctor's body held his captive.

But the stimulation on his already sensitive body soon had the shinigami wriggling as pleasure built and teased him.

"Sensei!" he moaned deeply, perhaps begging for something, or perhaps just vocalizing the ecstasy he was experiencing.

Muraki's rhythm increased, piling the sensations on both their bodies, nudging them closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. Reaching around Watari's slender thigh, the madman's hand captured the shinigami's weeping cock and began masturbating it in time with their dance, layering on yet another aspect to the pleasurable assault.

Watari gritted his teeth and whimpered in denial of what his body was demanding. He was enjoying himself too much to let it end. From the pleasure of Muraki's slow, deep penetration, to the feel of his lover's heavy body holding him captive, trapping him between Muraki and the bed, to the way Muraki's touch and tempo controlled his responses and even though his hands were free, the way their games had taught him to keep his hands in the position they were in... all of it was woven together into an experience that Watari not only knew he wouldn't forget but which he also eagerly embraced.

He was able to hold out for a few passes of that skilled hand, thrusts of Muraki's body, but then Watari was arching up under his lover at a nearly back breaking angle as his climax overcame him, his deep shout echoing off the walls.

As Watari arched up, his seed spurting up to splatter on Muraki's belly, the doctor's hand slipped from Watari's cock to moved under his back, supporting him as he rode out his climax. As Watari began to slide down, the doctor closed his eyes for a moment, and then reared back, grabbed Watari's ankles and brought them together and up into the air, almost bending the shinigami double, as he suddenly speeded his thrusts, using Watari's tight, now pulsing passage to achieve his own release, fucking him for purely his own enjoyment, now that the blond was coming down from his. Ten or twelve rapid, sharp thrusts, the last slamming in and staying as he filled his lover with thick hot fluid.

Perhaps he should have felt... used, but even as Muraki's hands closed on his ankles pulling him into the vulnerable position and the doctor settled in to pleasuring himself on his body, Watari moaned, a sound of encouragement, though the rapid thrusts were on the knife's edge of painful on his hyper sensitive body.

Wrenching back and out, Muraki lowered Watari's legs back to the bed and crawled over his body like a lizard, tongue flickering against Watari's cheek.

As he felt Muraki arch and lock to him, the sign of his climax, the young shinigami bit down against his lower lip, slender body trembling with the strain of the awkward position. Then he felt his legs being lowered and Watari let them collapse down against the bed, using his hands still gripping the foot of the bed to help him wriggle sensually beneath Muraki, turning his head as his lover came into range to nip at the doctor's strong jawline.

"Can I release my hands?" Watari whispered against a pale ear as it came close. Though not an entirely submissive question, Muraki had just given him an incredible experience and this was a little way in which Watari consciously sought to please the doctor. Though there was enough of the shinigami's mischief to let Muraki know it wasn't something he should expect to be given readily.

Muraki chuckled, his voice a little hoarse from the recent activity. He reached a long arm up and captured the leather cuffs, pulling Watari's wrists down between them. His hand moved deftly and the cuffs opened, sliding off the shinigami's wrists entirely. The cuffs were dropped on the bed. Leaning over Watari, Muraki watched his face. "So you begin to play by your own rules now," he said, his tone gently chiding. "Interesting."

Flexing his hands a couple of times, Watari let his arms stretch straight out to the sides to get blood moving once again, then curled them inwards, the fingers of one hand tracing patterns along Muraki's straining biceps while the other tickled across the doctor's washboard stomach.

Laying back, the young shinigami returned the madman's study, amber eyes moving over Muraki's pale, handsome features with an intensity that was nearly a physical caress. Swollen lips curved upwards and gold eyebrows bounced, "If I played by everybody else's rules all the time, I wouldn't be here."

Muraki smiled. "Play by any rules you wish. I was never very big on rules, actually," he admitted, stretching as he settled on his side.

Choosing to remain stretched out on his back, Watari let his arm fall back to his side, turning his head to look over at Muraki sprawled out on his side.

"Really? I never would have guessed." There was a warm sort of twinkle in Watari's amber eyes which took away any possible sting the words themselves might have carried with them. He was slowly catching his breath, one slender hand laying on his naked stomach rising and falling.

"Though, I wonder... are you applying any rules to our game?"

Muraki smiled. There was something about that smile that said, yes, he was, but he wasn't going to say what they were.

 That smile drew a lifted eyebrow out of the shinigami, but Watari didn't say anything. The dance he engaged in with Muraki was complex and Watari knew that too many references to it would change the landscape of their interactions so he held his tongue.

After a moment, Muraki rolled over and got up, going into the dark bathroom. Watari heard water running. Once again, the doctor returned with a warm, wet cloth, sat on the bed beside the shinigami, and began to clean him, washing his stomach, his cock and balls, and then turning him over as if he were a child, began carefully cleaning between his legs. The warm, wet cloth was soothing.

Watching, neck arched, as Muraki left the bed and headed to the bathroom, the young shinigami enjoyed the way the stillness of the night seemed to wrap around the room. It was dark, warm and comfortable in its own way, despite the knowledge that a very deadly predator shared the darkness with him. When Muraki returned with the warm cloth and began to wipe him clean, Watari made an appreciative noise and he moved pliantly under the doctor's instructing hands, rolling onto his stomach and cocking one knee up to give Muraki access.

Another small noise escaped his throat at the cloth's path. Like any shinigami, Watari healed quickly but the sex he and Muraki had engaged in, in close succession, had been extremely intense, deliciously intense and there was no denying the soothing touch of the cloth was enjoyed.

Muraki rubbed the wet cloth over Watari's skin, longer than it took to clean him. The movement was hypnotic and soothing. In time, the cloth was placed on the beside table but Muraki's hands continued to move over Watari's skin, slowly.

Suddenly the shinigami had a flash, as if it were an intuition. An image formed in his mind of a small boy, with grey eyes and silver hair, holding the doll with the gold curls and eyes. Cradling the doll, fingers tracing over the beautiful face, lovingly... pouring love into the inanimate object because his heart was full, but he was always alone.

The image matched, almost seamlessly, with the images which had assaulted Watari when he'd first opened the box and seen the doll. The need to love trapped, timeless, in the careful but ultimately doomed attempt to fix the crack.

~Careful, but ultimately doomed... am I attempting to break the pattern? Do I even know what I'm attempting to do anymore?~

Still, it had been the emotion, still held in that inanimate object, which had overwhelmed the normally logical and infinitely practical shinigami that morning in his lab, and he held his breath, feeling Muraki's touch not just on his skin but sliding along his mind and emotions as well.

Shifting, slowly and very carefully, Watari rolled to his side till he could see Muraki's face, half illuminated by the moonlight, yet still half concealed in the shadows. He knew that in his current position the moonlight fully exposed his own features, his preternaturally bright gold eyes, but he didn't bother to work his expression into one of his many masks. Instead, he allowed Muraki to see the intensity with which the scientist now studied his lover.

"It's too bad you put aside my other gift," Muraki said, another of his eternal smiles curving his lips.

There was a moment, a blink, and then Watari chuckled, lifting his head and bracing one elbow on the bed so he could cradle his cheek in his upturned palm.

"I actually didn't remember I wore it in my hair till I went to take a shower that morning. It's in the box, back at Meifu." Watari rocked his head on his palm slightly, obviously pondering his next words but then he laughed softly and dropped his head forward, letting his long hair fall across one shoulder. "I will give you this, I had reached to put it back on but it wiggled at me and suddenly I had this image of it tied in my hair, blowing Tatsumi-san a raspberry. It probably would have taken me a month to peel myself off the wall after the shadows got done with me."

Something flickered to life in Muraki's eyes, something that almost made Watari regret saying the shadow-master's name aloud. It wasn't any recognizable emotion such as jealousy or possessive anger. Rather, it was a sharp, cool interest.

"If you left it in the box, you will have destroyed it. Pity."

As if struck with cold water, the humorous warmth washed out of Watari's eyes, leaving a certain wariness behind. His voice was calm, low and steady as he said, "What did you honestly expect me to do with it, Sensei? After opening the box, seeing the doll... reacting... I could barely look upon either without feeling my neatly ordered world turn upside down. You want the truth? Yes, for days after our encounter I tried to put it, you, and the gifts out of my mind but with the doll, you sealed away my ability to do any of those things."

"And now? What will you do? If I keep you safe until morning... what will you do then?" Muraki asked, his tone one of mild inquiry, as if it didn't really matter.

For a long, long minute Watari couldn't take his eyes off Muraki's face but slowly his gaze slid past the doctor and towards the moonlit window, seeing the bright cold light of the moon as a diffused fuzziness. Shifting his arm, he lay it down so he could stretched out with his chin on his forearm, staring.

"Wake-up... if you've left me as you have in the past I will take a shower and get dressed. I will probably spend some time at the local festival, pick up a few trinkets to take back with me, and then I will return to Meifu, where I will continue this dance with the barbed wire, seeing if I can find a way through the trap I've walked into while... doing my job."

One eyebrow quirked upwards and as his words trailed off, he could just as easily been speaking to himself as to Muraki, already his mind was beginning to churn and a very slight shiver ran down the length of his spine. Of course, that could have been a result of the cool night air brushing over his skin.

Large hands closed on his body, pulling him up and over until he was sitting on the doctor's lap like an overgrown child. Bending his head, Muraki began to lick and then suckle one tender nipple as his hands held Watari on his lap.

Watari blinked but as Muraki drew him towards the doctor, the young shinigami collected his long limbs so that he settled on the doctor's vulnerable lap without risking an elbow or a knee going in a bad direction. His lover's large body was warm and Watari turned instinctively towards that heat and his lips curled into a smile that was part sad, part darkly amused as he felt Muraki's lips on his chest, drawing a heat of a different sort up through his veins.

One arm curled across the back of Muraki's shoulders, hand curling up to cradle the back of the doctor's skull, long fingers carding through mused silver-hair.

The doctor suckled one nipple, then the other. He nuzzled and nipped along Watari's sensitive throat. His hands moved over Watari's skin.

He kept it up until he could feel the shinigami's energy begin to heat, until he could feel the quickening of the pulse.

Watari let his head roll back against the support of Muraki's shoulder, a soft sound of encouragement coming from the same throat the doctor's skillful lips worked along.

~How can it feel soooo good??~

The thought drew a soft moan from the shinigami but with the way his body was responding to the doctor's touch, heating... heart beating faster... the little noise could easily have been taken for excitement.

When Muraki was satisfied that he had the better part of Watari's attention focused on his body and the sensations it was feeling, he shifted himself, the shinigami still on his lap, so that he could reach something on the bed. The next thing Watari felt was the glide of the silk sash along his bare skin. Muraki trailed the length along his chest, shoulders, and finally, around his neck. He circled Watari's throat with the white silk, bringing the ends together and them wrapping them around one hand.

Once again becoming aroused, the feather light touch of the silk was like a caress to Watari's sensitive skin and he gasped softly as it tickled its way along his body. As Muraki moved, the shinigami's hand dropped from behind his head to rest on the shifting shoulders, fingers obviously enjoying the play of powerful muscles as Muraki moved them both and then trailed the sash along Watari's body.

Feeling the silk come up along his neck, he expected it to continue till he was once again blindfolded but once again, he learned that he should let go of his expectations when it came to Muraki. The fabric, so soft, so delicate and yet so incredibly strong, felt strange as it settled around his throat and he felt the madman bunch the ends in one single, powerful hand. Watari sat, perfectly still on his lover's lap, his head and neck tilted at a bit of an angle and his breath still coming in quick draws. The only other movement was his tongue, which slipped out to stroke across his lips.

As if oblivious to Watari's utter stillness, the doctor leaned close and kissed the hollow of his neck, just under the edge of the silk. Then he kissed the corner of Watari's mouth, then his temple. His lips lingered there. It came to Watari suddenly that the spot where the doctor's lips rested was the same place where the doll's face was cracked.

Muraki's other hand moved and returned and the tube of lubricant was placed in one of Watari's hands.

"Get yourself ready."

Watari was not unaware of the precariousness of his position and he was also extremely unnerved by the subtle shift in the doctor's attitude. It caused a shiver of fear to run down his spine and Watari almost shifted and ported to safety but something held him back.

Perhaps it was the gentle kisses, or more likely it was the knowledge that unless he risked it, he would never find his way through the wire. He'd be forever trapped, unhurt perhaps, but unable to move.

The silk was warm now from its intimate contact with his body and Watari was keenly aware of its soft menace. The touch of Muraki's lips to his temple, to that point where the doll was cracked, balanced out the touch of the silk against Watari's slender throat but his breath still came quickly.

Eyes closed, he carefully flipped open the top of the tube and smeared some of the lubricant across his fingers. He was not in the easiest position to perform this act and the shinigami stretched a little in the hold of the scarf, perhaps a minor buck against the command to prepare himself but his fingers reached down between his legs and carefully worked the slippery substance around and just within the tight ring of muscle that guarded his passage.

"Now prepare me," Muraki said, watching the blond. The slightest of smiles seemed to hover at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes almost glowed with something that could have been intense appreciation.

His hands still holding the tube of lube, Watari leaned his head back looking up into Muraki's face as he pulled against the scarf around his own neck. A gracefully winged eyebrow arched upwards and for a split second, something brightened those gold eyes, something that seemed to make them tawny, like a cat's eyes.

But then he was neatly smearing a glob of the slippery substance on the tips of his fingers and in the center of his palm. Setting the tube aside, Watari reached one arm around Muraki's waist to help balance himself, then he reached into the doctor's lap and very gently wrapped his long, slender fingers around the mortal man's cock, carefully working the lube slowly from the velvet-like tip, down along the shaft and then back up.

Nimble fingers worked in almost naughty patterns across Muraki's erection, partly giving the man a handjob while at the same time spreading the slippery substance all over the sensitive skin.

The already turgid flesh in his hand rewarded his attentions by finishing its transformation to its fully erect state, pulsing against his palm and fingers. Muraki's eyelids lowered as Watari stroked him, the expression easily readable as enjoyment.

His hand continued to hold the sash around Watari's throat, tight enough to be felt, and enough play around the back of his fist to easily tighten further. His other hand circled Watari's waist, helping him balance, keeping him secure.

"Do you want it, Yutaka-san?"

Muraki had drawn more than just emotions to the surface that night. He'd drawn instincts and a darkness long dormant to the surface as well.

Watching the doctor's handsome features closely, Watari tilted his head slightly to the side within the hold of the scarf and his lips twitched. He'd allowed Muraki to lead him down paths he hadn't visited in decades. He'd allowed Muraki to hold him, fuck him, bind him and fascinate him. It was time to explore that fascination in this sexual sense and it was the doctor himself who provided the idea.

Leaning up, the young shinigami pressed his lips, gossamer light, against Muraki's mouth, but between one second, when warm lips met warm lips, and the next suddenly the warmth of Watari's mouth, of his very body was gone. The fingers which had been wrapped around the scarf suddenly grasped air but in the split second it took Muraki's body to register these changes, a sharp crack of air sounded just beside his ear and the warm body was back.

Pouncing, with perhaps more strength than his slender form looked like it could provide, it was Watari's turn to carefully but aggressively tumble Muraki to the bed, straddling the doctor's waist. The scarf was whipped off the shinigami's slender throat and collared around Muraki's neck, all in one smooth, lightening fast motion. Unlike Tsuzuki, who had always attacked blindly, and in anger, Watari's actions were ruthlessly precise and thought out.

Laying his torso out across Muraki's body, the scientist leaned down, the scarf wrapped around one slender hand and tightened to the exact same tension that had been around his own neck. Tickling the tip of his tongue against the shell of Muraki's ear, Watari growled softly.

"Yes, all of it."

He then sat up, his arm stretched to keep hold of the sash, but Muraki could now see his fine-boned face as Watari's eyes traveled an extremely heated path along the powerful body laid out beneath him. Studying every inch of the pale torso and slender waist he now straddled.

Something flashed from Muraki's eyes the instant Watari's physical presence suddenly went from *here* to *there*. His body almost seemed to fall with Watari's push, there was no sudden tensing, no aborted reaction, though the muscles were anything but relaxed.

Looking up, the doctor's eyes continued to glow with a strange light. His mouth curved wider... and wider... and a low laugh emerged from his lips, gaining strength and volume until it filled the room, the upper octaves acquiring a tone that seemed to match the mad light in those grey eyes.

The laugh died and Muraki continued to smile.

"Then take what you wish," he said, his voice all but dripping with invitation, lust, and something else harder to place.

Watari looked down at Muraki's face for a long minute, then leaned forward crushing his lips down on the doctor's mouth in a kiss that was just shy of almost brutal. Reaching down with his other hand, he caught Muraki's cock, steadying it as he kissed the mortal man till Watari himself had to come up for air. One hand still wrapped around the scarf, holding it taut, the other holding Muraki's cock steady, Watari scooted back until he could guide the blunt head of his lover's erection against his entrance. Proceeding carefully, so as not to hurt himself or Muraki, Watari exhaled and pressed back, his neck arching, head back, lips parted in a soft gasp as the head of the doctor's cock pierced his body. Catching a breath, the scientist stroked his tongue across his lips and pushed back, taking another inch, drew forward just a hair, then thrust back again, working himself until he was able to take Muraki into his body to the hilt. The physical exertion caused the shinigami's body to break out in a fine sweat, which glistened in the moonlight spilling across his slender torso where it arched over Muraki's body.

Muraki's hands, palms down on the bed's surface, dug their fingers into the covering and mattress, as the large man arched his back, thrusting up to push just that little bit extra into Watari's tight but yielding body. His lips skinned back, revealing perfect white teeth. His eyes seemed fastened to Watari's eyes, never leaving them, only lidding for moments as the hot sheath of Watari's body squeezed him, pleasuring the madman. His back relaxed, and then he arched and shoved upwards again.

Eyes never leaving his lover's handsome, psychotic features, Watari's thighs corded as he rode the bucks of the powerful body beneath him. The motion pushed a low moan past his lips as Muraki's cock brushed against his prostrate. Though not as well aimed as when the doctor had total control of the angle of the thrusting, the heavy erection still managed to hit that sweet spot as it moved within the shinigami's body.

Content to ride Muraki for a couple of those passionate movements only for a short time, soon Watari began to move in counter to the doctor's upwards presses. Posting forward, then coming back to meet Muraki in mid thrust so that he took the doctor's cock as deeply as possible, Watari had to be careful not to let his hand tighten too much on the sash he held, even as he began to move with more and more passion above the larger man.

As Watari could feel the tension rising, he leaned forward at one point till he could whisper against the side of Muraki's face, "Would you like me to tighten my grip..s?" The s, hissed out so that Muraki knew Watari meant both grips, the grip of his hand in the sash and the grip of his body around the doctor's cock.

"Uhn...yes... if..unh....you wish..."

It was a delicate balance, a very delicate balance very carefully executed. Watari did tighten his grip on the sash but not nearly to a point which could be called dangerously tight. Just a little more pressure a little more definition of the silk cloth against heated skin, perhaps Muraki could feel the beat of his own pulse, accelerated by the actions of his body, beating against the fabric and back to vibrate on his own throat.

Below, as promised, Watari now rode Muraki, working his internal muscles to tighten, flexing around their erect captive, and the shinigami picked up the pace to a feverish intensity. He didn't keep them both in this suspension for long, just enough to *feel* it, before Watari reached and caught up his own cock, pumping his rigid flesh in his hand, once.. twice... then his sharp cry broke across the night air as he came heavily across Muraki's torso, those internal muscles no longer gripping with a steady rhythm but tightening spasmodically around the doctor.

As Watari's seed spilled across Muraki's chest, the doctor's arm suddenly shot up, with unnatural speed, and his large hand fastened around the front of Watari's throat like a striking snake. The grip was so sudden and so tight that Watari had no chance to react, either by tightening the silk sash in his own already-loosening grip, or by pulling away. As his orgasm flooded through him, his oxygen was cut off suddenly and precisely, leaving him gasping, shuddering, in the throes of a series of rippling waves of pleasure that seemed to intensify and extend somehow even as his body fought for air it was not able to receive. His heart pounded as if it were going to burst and the waves continued to hit over, and over, as if they would never stop, as if he were going to die right then, in the midst of that passionate flood.

With a heave, Muraki thrust upwards a final time, spilling his own fluid deep inside Watari's spasming body, and for a few seconds Watari felt the black spots before his eyes, mingled inextricably with that sensation of internal, hot wetness, the last throes of his own incredibly extended orgasm, and the struggle of his body to live... it was pleasure and pain mingled in a way he could never have imagined, and the pain and the brush of mortality's wings, however transient, tasted like the sweetest terror imaginable.

Caught by the strength of those fingers, the suddenness of the strike and his own shuddering, explosive orgasm, Watari felt like he couldn't move. All his instincts to flee the grip of the madman seemed to disappear beneath the crushing balance of pleasure unlike anything he'd ever experienced and pain that he could feel through his whole body.

From the physical grip on his slender throat where Muraki's hand nearly encircled his neck, to the burning agony in his lungs as they tried to draw air they were being denied, to the frantic hammering of his heart in his chest, balanced by the intense pleasure from the bundle of nerves caught against Muraki's erection and his own cock and balls.

And then the fingers around his throat released, Muraki's arm fell back, his body dropped against the bed, and the doctor laughed... the sound was ecstatic, triumphant, and somehow at the same time vulnerable and strangely young.

Loosening at first, Watari's hand tightened around the sash for a brief moment as death danced around him, always eager to claim back its children, but then Muraki's hand was gone and the sensations of pleasure and pain seemed to wash back into a warm glow of utter satedness. Releasing his hold on the scarf, Watari let himself fall forward, dropping like a damp, warm blanket across Muraki's larger body, gasping in deep lungfuls of air and chuckling nearly soundlessly into the mattress beside Muraki's right ear.

After a moment or two, that long arm rose again. This time, it encircled Watari's shoulders as Muraki shifted, turning onto his side and spilling Watari onto the bed, but the hold kept the shinigami close against the psychopath's chest. Gently, almost tenderly, Muraki stroked along Watari's back as the blond gulped deep breaths. Watari could feel Muraki's chest move in a soft chuckle of his own.

Muraki lay quietly, as both their bodies recovered. Then he turned Watari onto his back and leaned next to him. His hand slipped up to tilt the shinigami's chin up, and the doctor examined his throat. Fingertips brushed lightly where they had closed so mercilessly before. Muraki murmured something softly under his breath, too soft for Watari to hear, and for a few seconds, he felt a warm sensation around his neck. Then the sensation faded, taking a little, but not all, of the bruising.

Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, even though his hold on the sash was gone, his hold of Muraki was gone, Watari was relaxed again within the psychopath's hold, despite the fact that Muraki's hand had nearly throttled him only moments ago. Moving easily as the doctor's hand directed him, he stayed close to the warmth of his lover's body, issuing only a small grumble as he was pushed onto his back.

A shiver did run through his body as Muraki's fingertips touched his chin and he felt those strong digits moving across his bruised throat. Still in a bit of an impassioned fog, Watari couldn't catch the words Muraki spoke, though he strained to hear them, but the warmth that moved along his neck was welcomed with a soft sigh of something close to relief.

After the sensation had faded, Watari drew in a deep careful breath and he smiled, almost gently opening his eyes for the first time since his climax exploded over him. His voice was definitely hoarse, roughened by the night's play, the scream from earlier, the passionate cries and from the lingering bruises.

"My immortality will take care of the rest by morning, I figure."

"Fascinating," Muraki said, tracing Watari's features with his fingertips. "You play deep, Yutaka-san."

Swallowing to help get a little moisture across his dry and sorely used throat, Watari turned his face towards his lover's touch. Now it was his turn to be quiet, a thoughtful, pensive sort of quiet with drew a furrow between his brows, then a quirk of his lips.

"You don't play foolish games, Kazutaka-san. It would be... unwise of me not to engage you to the full extent of my ability."

Muraki laughed softly. "It is unwise of you to place a silken sash around my throat unless you intend to take my life."

"Can you say I wouldn't?" Watari asked the question in a genuinely curious tone, his fingers reaching up to lightly trace along Muraki's collarbones.

"Can you say you would? You aren't a life taker, shinigami or not," Muraki answered, combing several of the escaped strands of gold hair back with this fingers.

Watari shifted his head on the mattress so he could get a better look at Muraki's face. Curiosity was now evident in his amber eyes as well as his voice, "Do you really think I'm not? Even after I bargained with you for the death of a child, possibly its mother and the man who was a vessel for a demonic god?"

"For you it was a matter of logic," Muraki answered. "You might kill if your mind calculated the cost worth the gain. You might kill in cold blood. But never in the heat of passion."

"Do you not think that it would be more logical for me to kill you, than to do what I'm doing with you?" Watari asked, shifting to brace his head on an upturned palm so it was easier for him to see Muraki's eyes.

"It is your logic we are discussing, not mine," Muraki said, looking back easily. "And the answer is, evidently not. Evidently you hope to gain something greater than mere physical safety."

The young shinigami's eyes were somehow gentle, yet at the same time calculatingly intense as they moved slowly across Muraki's features.

"Mmm...yes, wrapping that sash around your neck was a calculated risk, but one I felt necessary." Watari's eyes dropped down to Muraki's pale throat. "Your reaction could have been disastrous... and killing me would only have been part of that."

Muraki chuckled. "The only part of concern to you, at least until you revived."

Stretching his arm back out till he could lay with his head cradled by his own elbow, Watari's eyes never left Muraki's face.

"No, because that part would have been fleeting. More disastrous would have been to have you toss me away like a broken doll you'd grown annoyed with and thus given up my attempt... 'not to look away'."

Something seemed to flicker in the doctor's grey eyes. "I have never thrown away a broken doll. I've only given away... one." Muraki's eyes flickered again. "Broken people... are another story. So... are you a person, or are you my doll?"

Silence fell in the room for a long minute, broke by the soft rustle of bare skin across the comforter as Watari sat back up and leaned forward until his lips brushed lightly against the corner of Muraki's mouth. His voice was whisper soft as he spoke, warm breath playing across the doctor's lips.

"Neither. I am dead, neither animate, nor inanimate in the purest sense of either word."

Muraki's face seemed to shift and the smile that never seemed far from his mouth relaxed away. His human eye seemed to focus with an expression of interest, even curiosity. The artificial eye gleamed as cold as ever. "Yes..." he murmured, a wholly uncalculated sound. "However dolls are only inanimate to those who do not love them."

Now it was Watari's turn to look interested, curious, the genuine expressions making him appear achingly young. "And you did love your dolls. They didn't hurt you, did they, Kazutaka?"

Slowly, the doctor's smile returned. "No, I suppose not. That privilege was reserved for my mother, and my father, and my brother... are you trying to chart my pathology?"

Watari shook his head slightly and pressed a light kiss to the side of Muraki's mouth before leaning back out of the mortal man's personal space.

"No. I'm trying to understand that which I find... intriguing. Only you would be able to chart your own pathology."

Muraki chuckled. "I think one of the things I find most endearing about you is your streak of very nearly inhuman coldness. That aspect of you which is somehow above and beyond it all, to which human feeling and suffering, while regrettable, are also simply data, to be collected and analyzed."

Watari didn't move, he didn't so much as twitch, not even a facial muscle. His voice didn't even change from its low, slightly strained whisper and even his eyes were calm and direct.

"If I were to show you anything that hinted at pity, you would kill me, wait till I revived, kill me again, let me revive and then... you'd get vicious."

"Probably," Muraki replied, just as easily. "Either that, or find a way to twist it around your soul until you no longer knew whether what you were doing was because you chose to, or because I chose it for you."

One corner of Watari's mouth lifted, putting a lopsided grin on his face. "All the more reason, I need to be extraordinarily careful." His hand, which had been resting on Muraki's shoulder, slid down to press lightly over the strong, steady beating of the madman's heart.

Muraki was quiet, as if content to let Watari do as he wished. After a little while, he shifted, and then sat up. Getting to his feet, he walked around the bed to the other side, and then leaned over and slid his arms under Watari, picking him up.

Not being particularly petite, Watari wasn't a light burden, but the doctor managed it without appearing to do more than put a good portion of his strength into it.

As silence once again wrapped its gentle arms around them, Watari watched Muraki. He watched the doctor stand, expecting that the man might go for a warm cloth, since that seemed to be the pattern so he was caught a little unawares when Muraki's strong arms picked him up instead. By the time Watari thought to protest, to do so would have risked hurting them both, so he relaxed, trying to fold long limbs into as easy a position as possible for Muraki to maneuver him.

The doctor lifted the shinigami and carried him a few steps into the dark bathroom. Watari had never really seen this room, since he'd opted not to stay the night before. Muraki put Watari on his feet and turned on a small lamp, that gave a gentle light into the room.

The shinigami gained his feet, steadying himself for a moment with one hand on Muraki's shoulder as he looked around. The light was surprisingly soothing for Watari's eyes, already being diffused but then further blurred by his lack of spectacles. Still, he peered curiously about, practically having to be on top of things before he could see any sort of detail. The largest thing in the room was a old fashion tub, standing on metal lion's paws. The doctor turned on the warm water and began to fill the tub. A sachet hanging from the spigot scented the water as it ran into the tub. The scent from the sachet tickled Watari's nostrils but it was not unpleasant and he sniffed appreciatively at the steam that rose from the water.

Stepping into the tub, Muraki held his hand out to steady Watari so he could do the same. The old tub was large enough for the two of them to sit, one in front of the other, and still stretch their legs out almost to full extension.

Catching Muraki's movement out of the corner of his eye, Watari quirked an eyebrow at the extended hand, but took it and carefully stepped into the tub with his lover, letting Muraki settle himself then joining him in the warm, soothing, scented water, a low sigh of pleasure escaping him.

Settling into a comfortable and relaxed position, Muraki coaxed Watari to lay back against him, and for a while, they simply soaked in the warm water and rested.

Watari didn't need much coaxing. He waited until Muraki was settled, then carefully situated himself between the mortal man's legs. He did wait until invited before leaning his torso back against the pillow of Muraki's broad chest, but after a couple of breaths in which the surprisingly companionable quiet and the warm water worked their magic, the shinigami laid his head back to it rested on the curve of Muraki's shoulder.

After a time, Muraki stirred, picked up a bar of scented soap, and began gently, carefully, washing both his lover and himself.

Watari was drifting on a cloud of his own thoughts and the physical comfort of the bath, resting quietly maybe even dozing slightly when Muraki finally stirred and began to wash them both. Watari remained still, letting Muraki's hands move over his shoulders, chest... anywhere the doctor could reach. When he figured the mortal man had soaped up everything within range of those long arms, Watari held his hand out for the soap, intending to finish the job on their legs.

The soap was placed in his hand and Muraki relaxed as Watari took up the next part of the process.

Taking the soap, the water splashed quietly as he moved a little so he could reach them both. With the same careful attention, Watari soaped first one long, powerful leg then the other, helping to make sure both were rinsed before moving to wash his own. He then bent forward and even took care of feet and toes. His touch gentle but with enough firmness so he didn't risk tickling...though he chuckled softly at the idea of Muraki being ticklish. As he finished soaping up the doctor's right instep, Watari curbed the urge to find out!

Sliding his arms around Watari, Muraki pulled him back and held him against his chest for a little while. Watari could feel the doctor's lips brush his neck, and it felt as though he were mouthing silent words for a few moments. Watari felt a warm tingle around his neck, then it faded.

Setting the soap back in its place, Watari went willingly enough back into that hold, relaxing comfortably. He liked the feel of Muraki's lips against his neck so at first he didn't think anything of the movement of the doctor's mouth against his skin, except to note that it felt good. It wasn't until the last words were silently mouthed and the tingle circled his throat that the young shinigami shifted, asking in a low tone, "What did you do?"

The mouth against his neck smiled.

"Will you be angry if I prefer not to say?"

Letting his head loll to the side, Watari stared up at the ceiling, though it was hard to see that far. He gave a soft chuff of laughter and rocked his head from side to side.

"No. Highly concerned, upset at myself if I've allowed you to do something I'll regret later...but not *angry*."

Muraki laughed softly. "You've allowed me to do anything I wanted. It seems ridiculous to be upset about it later."

Watari closed his eyes and his soft laugh mixed and melded with Muraki's as he nodded against his lover's shoulder.

"Good point."

Lifting one arm, the young shinigami batted playfully at the water with the tips of his fingers, lightly splashing them both in the chest.

Muraki reached out with one foot and lifted the plug from the drain. Standing up, he pulled Watari to his feet. As the water drained, he stepped out and the took a large towel from a shelf rack and wrapped it around the shinigami, and then pulled one down for himself.

Watari dried himself off, neatly hanging the towel when he was done with it. He followed Muraki back out into the moonlit bedroom, standing there completely naked as the doctor turned down the bed, but something gave him cause to pause as he looked down at its inviting expanse.

A shadow crossed over his features.

The doctor tipped his head up, looking into his face. "Yes?"

The young shinigami's eyes were shuttered and though it was hard to read anything in his face, there was a lot going on in his mind. Without pulling his chin off Muraki's fingertips, he looked back down at the bed, remembering another bed... a smaller bed...but a cozy bed, in a cozy room. He remembered Tatsumi's arms, and Tatsumi's words and then he looked back at Muraki and gave his head a shake, whispering, "Nothing, just thinking."

Muraki smiled, a momentary glitter in his eyes. "You perhaps prefer to return to your own bed to sleep," he said softly. "Understandable. I've enjoyed your... company. I had thought to bring you a drink but," he shrugged.

Watari arched a gold eyebrow. "You have enjoyed bedding me... and I asked for my night of protection." His words were still whisper soft and after speaking them, he moved around Muraki and crawled up onto the large bed, settling his long limbs and reaching down towards the turned back bedclothes.

Muraki watched him for a moment. Then he left the room, and returned a few moments later with a cup. Sitting on the bed beside Watari, he held the cup for the shinigami to take.

Nesting the pillows up behind him so he could lean back, Watari settled against them and reached for the drink, trying not to look too eager but probably failing as he cradled the cup in both hands. His hair was once again loose, tumbling across his bare shoulders and sweeping around his features like a curtain, making him look young, until one looked into his eyes. They were anything but youthful.

Still, the smile he gave Muraki was genuine, if a tad weary, "Thank you."

Muraki leaned on his side, pulling his legs up onto the bed. He waited, giving Watari time to sip the liquid slowly. It tasted a little like an herbal tea sweetened with honey and was remarkably soothing.

After the first sip, Watari fought not to drink the rest down in a greedy manner but it felt sooo good against his throat, tasted so soothing that he couldn't help a little noise of appreciation, though his nose was buried in the cup, muffling the sound.

Lazily, Muraki reached over and arranged a curl of gold hair over Watari's shoulder.

Once the cup was empty, the doctor lifted it from Watari's hands. The warm liquid further relaxed the shinigami and he felt a deep lassitude and sleepiness weighing his eyelids down.

Licking the remains of the liquid from his lips, the young shinigami watched the cup as Muraki took it, then his eyes moved to the doctor's face. He felt an incredible weariness settle over him, though it was not entirely unpleasant, rather it the was the type of nearly pleasurable weight of sleepiness which meant one would rest without troublesome dreams.

Shifting on the bed, grabbing the pillows and pulling them down, hugging the edge the way a child might hug a stuffed animal, Watari yawned and regarded Muraki out of eyes mostly closed.

"I must be out of my mind."

Another yawn nearly interrupted the comment.

"Why? Sleeping for a second time in my presence?" Muraki said, his voice low and soothing. "Of all the things you've done, it's far from the craziest. Especially since you know I won't harm you."

Something about that low, almost hypnotic, deep voice saying the word 'sleep' seemed to push Watari further along in that direction. Another yawn and then he was curling up on his side in the classic fetal position, hugging the pillow and mumbling words almost smothered between the pillow and the fall of his hair.

"Mmm...no...not you...I'm doing that...well 'nough on my own."

A hand smoothed his hair. "Yes I suppose you are. It's the cross you must bear for being a chronic over-achiever," Muraki chuckled softly. "Sleep, Yutaka-san."

Watari's soft chuckle seemed to meld and then echo Muraki's own and he nestled deeper into the pillow, exhaustion finally claiming him and sending him spiraling down into a deep, deep sleep.

TBC

Degrees of Separation - Part 6

Love & Gundams