[anOTP] Fifty Shades of Violet [For Muraki]
Don't mock the title: he wanted to call it that, and Muraki found it amusing.
He knows where Muraki sleeps and where he has his office, and he usually passes either one at least once or twice during his long watches in the night. Sometimes, passing through the third floor hallway and reaching the end, he pauses before the door to Muraki's room, listening. During the day, it's often quiet, but some evenings and nights, he can hear things on the other side of that door: sometimes music that sounds as if it's playing on an old-school phonograph, and usually that is classical music; sometimes the sound of gasps and giggles and the odd moan of pleasure (or pain). The former makes him smile a bit, but that latter has him walking away quickly.
If only that was him in there, emitting those sounds of pleasure and pain.
Finally, late one night, he can no longer stand it. At the end of his watch, when he should be going to bed, he returns to Muraki's door, pausing before it, running a hand over it, then tapping on it.
The door opens and Muraki looks out, clad in a grey silk dressing gown, his lean chest half bare, his silver hair mussed. "Can I help you?" he asks, sleepily. But then the sleep leaves his good eye and a look of slightly feigned surprise crosses his face. "Mister Tsuzuki, what brings you to my door at this late hour?"
Tsuzuki steps through the door, pushing Muraki up against the wall beside the door. "I think it's pretty clear," he says. "You've been wanting me for a long time: maybe it's time that I stopped running from you."
"And so you have me up against a wall for a change, just as you reversed the tables in Kyoto," Muraki replies. Tsuzuki's grip falters and in that moment, Muraki slips loose, pushing Tsuzuki's back against the door.
"Perhaps we can finish what that young man interrupted on the Queen Camellia," he murmurs in Tsuzuki's ear, before running the tip of his tongue along its whorls, sending a shiver of ice and fire through the shinigami's nerves.
What started against the door ended on the four-poster in the bedroom beyond the sitting room, his pained and pleasured moan drowned out by Muraki's hawk-like screech of release. The pale man relaxes, shifting off him and laying back on the pillows. In the light of the candles on brackets above their heads, his pale skin seems glow with a light of its own. Tsuzuki turns his back to the other male, curling up, digesting what has just passed between them.
"Dare I ask, what compelled you to throw yourself into my arms like that?" Muraki asks, hitching himself a few inches higher on the pillows.
"I was lonely," Tsuzuki mutters, hoping this satisfies the monster's curiosity.
"Hmmm, the boy isn't keeping you company of night?" Muraki asks.
"That's none of your business," Tsuzuki growls, curling up tighter.
"Well, in lieu of that, shall we make an arrangement as a compromise?"
Tsuzuki uncurls, starting to drop his feet to the floor. "I should turn in for the night -- in my own room--"
Muraki reaches, stopping him, hands about the shinigami's slim throat. "Not so quickly," he says. "I would rather repeat this night, and more than once."
He nearly struggles against it, but he stops. He had enjoyed this embrace, despite the history they had. "Whut?" he grunts.
"You come to me as often as I require you. You don't come to me again: I will send for you, and those summons will be unmistakable. You will be free to refuse them, but you will be summoned again at a later time. If I want you on your knees, you kneel before me; if I wish to bind you, you let me tie you up. From time to time, you will let me feed from you: sometimes I will take but a taste, other times, I will sate myself on you. But don't worry: I'll see that you're fed well afterward.
"So, what shall it be?", the grip loosening.
Tsuzuki sighs. What did he have to lose? He couldn't die, and as weird as the encounter was, he would be entering it of his own free will. "All right.. yes..."
Muraki nuzzles the side of his head and releases him. "You chose well," he says, settling back on his pillows and turning his back on the shinigami. Freed, Tsuzuki rises and collects his scattered clothes before making his departure. Even still, he felt the other's good eye watching his every movement...
He knows where Muraki sleeps and where he has his office, and he usually passes either one at least once or twice during his long watches in the night. Sometimes, passing through the third floor hallway and reaching the end, he pauses before the door to Muraki's room, listening. During the day, it's often quiet, but some evenings and nights, he can hear things on the other side of that door: sometimes music that sounds as if it's playing on an old-school phonograph, and usually that is classical music; sometimes the sound of gasps and giggles and the odd moan of pleasure (or pain). The former makes him smile a bit, but that latter has him walking away quickly.
If only that was him in there, emitting those sounds of pleasure and pain.
Finally, late one night, he can no longer stand it. At the end of his watch, when he should be going to bed, he returns to Muraki's door, pausing before it, running a hand over it, then tapping on it.
The door opens and Muraki looks out, clad in a grey silk dressing gown, his lean chest half bare, his silver hair mussed. "Can I help you?" he asks, sleepily. But then the sleep leaves his good eye and a look of slightly feigned surprise crosses his face. "Mister Tsuzuki, what brings you to my door at this late hour?"
Tsuzuki steps through the door, pushing Muraki up against the wall beside the door. "I think it's pretty clear," he says. "You've been wanting me for a long time: maybe it's time that I stopped running from you."
"And so you have me up against a wall for a change, just as you reversed the tables in Kyoto," Muraki replies. Tsuzuki's grip falters and in that moment, Muraki slips loose, pushing Tsuzuki's back against the door.
"Perhaps we can finish what that young man interrupted on the Queen Camellia," he murmurs in Tsuzuki's ear, before running the tip of his tongue along its whorls, sending a shiver of ice and fire through the shinigami's nerves.
What started against the door ended on the four-poster in the bedroom beyond the sitting room, his pained and pleasured moan drowned out by Muraki's hawk-like screech of release. The pale man relaxes, shifting off him and laying back on the pillows. In the light of the candles on brackets above their heads, his pale skin seems glow with a light of its own. Tsuzuki turns his back to the other male, curling up, digesting what has just passed between them.
"Dare I ask, what compelled you to throw yourself into my arms like that?" Muraki asks, hitching himself a few inches higher on the pillows.
"I was lonely," Tsuzuki mutters, hoping this satisfies the monster's curiosity.
"Hmmm, the boy isn't keeping you company of night?" Muraki asks.
"That's none of your business," Tsuzuki growls, curling up tighter.
"Well, in lieu of that, shall we make an arrangement as a compromise?"
Tsuzuki uncurls, starting to drop his feet to the floor. "I should turn in for the night -- in my own room--"
Muraki reaches, stopping him, hands about the shinigami's slim throat. "Not so quickly," he says. "I would rather repeat this night, and more than once."
He nearly struggles against it, but he stops. He had enjoyed this embrace, despite the history they had. "Whut?" he grunts.
"You come to me as often as I require you. You don't come to me again: I will send for you, and those summons will be unmistakable. You will be free to refuse them, but you will be summoned again at a later time. If I want you on your knees, you kneel before me; if I wish to bind you, you let me tie you up. From time to time, you will let me feed from you: sometimes I will take but a taste, other times, I will sate myself on you. But don't worry: I'll see that you're fed well afterward.
"So, what shall it be?", the grip loosening.
Tsuzuki sighs. What did he have to lose? He couldn't die, and as weird as the encounter was, he would be entering it of his own free will. "All right.. yes..."
Muraki nuzzles the side of his head and releases him. "You chose well," he says, settling back on his pillows and turning his back on the shinigami. Freed, Tsuzuki rises and collects his scattered clothes before making his departure. Even still, he felt the other's good eye watching his every movement...