fic: Insomnia (Jeneus/Murata R rating)
Title: Insomnia
Author: starrose17 (starrose_fanfic )
Pairing: Jeneus/Murata (am I the first one to write this pairing? XD), mentions of one sided Shinou/Daikenja (Dai wanting Shinou).
Rating: R (possibly NC17, I never know how to rate things ^^;;).Prompt: ‘Insomnia’ and Jeneus/Murata pairing for tsutsuji .
Beta: No beta, only spellchecked.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything to do with KKM, just a fangirl making no money.
Insomnia
Ever since the White Crows had returned, and Jeneus had appeared, Murata hadn’t had a single nights good sleep. His mind was constantly racing with memories long forgotten, trying to piece together pieces of the puzzle. What had happened to his White Crows? Who was Jeneus? How could he even exist? It felt like the answers were buried somewhere deep in his memories, like he knew all the answers but couldn’t quite reach them, and he couldn’t search through the thousands of years concentrating hard to find those answers without giving himself a painful migraine. His head had been throbbing for days, and going to sleep had proven impossible with millions of memories racing through his mind.
It didn’t help that Shinou kept on appearing randomly in his room to see if he was alright. He got that his old King was concerned but did he realise how irritating he was being? On the very rare occasion he’d find himself just drifting off to sleep, he’d sense that ghostly presence and a deep voice would ask, “Are you all right my Daikenja?”.
Murata had thrown his pillow at him one time and thrown his bedcovers completely over himself to block out his annoying King.
This night was no different, and after tossing and turning for hours and shooing Shinou out of his bedroom for a FIFTH time, Murata finally accepted he was not going to get any sleep. Getting out of bed and getting dressed, he headed through the corridors and out into the courtyard of the Shrine, nodding at the female guards polity as he headed out into the trees. Perhaps a midnight walk would clear his head a little. He wouldn’t go too far, just out into the trees a little way.
It was a full moon tonight, and it shone brightly through the trees, bathing even the darkest corner with a silvery glow. As he walked he took deep breaths, the cool air refreshing and invigorating his sleep-deprived brain. His mind wandered back to Shinou, and wondered what his reaction would be if he ever saw Jeneus. In Murata’s mind, Shinou is who he was before, blond and blue eyed, but to Shinou, even though Murata held his precious Daikenja’s soul, Murata was not who Shinou remembered. Long straight black hair, narrower piercing eyes, and of course, physically older, much more than Murata’s barely 16 year old self. What would Shinou do if he came across a man who in every physically aspect was the Daikenja he remembered? Would that change things between them?
Maybe I’d finally get some sleep, Murata smiled to himself, but the smile faded quickly.
He just wished he knew who Jeneus was, how he came to be, and what he was doing. Again that notion that the answers were just niggling at the back of his mind was driving him mad, and he shook his head a little to get rid of them. He needed to relax out here, not get worked up over thoughts of Jeneus and why he seemed to hate him so much. There was a lot more going on here that what had met the eye.
As Murata continued to walk, he came out near a steep bank in the hill, the trees dropping with the curvature of the ground, and could now look out over the tree tops towards Blood Pledge Castle. He sighed, smiling warmly to himself at thoughts of Yuuri getting half kicked out of bed by a sleeping Wolfram, and sat down on a fallen log beside him.
He closed his eyes, letting the breeze ruffle his hair and listening to nothing but the wind in the trees. He should do this more often when his memories got too much.
He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, but suddenly he felt like he wasn’t alone. Spending time in a Shrine with a certain blond ghost who could appear anywhere at any time made him very good at sensing a presence, and he opened his eyes, staring down at the trees.
“Aren’t you going to come out?” he asked the air, and a moment later there was a rustling to his left. He turned to look, but even Murata wasn’t prepared for who he saw standing there.
In a flash he jumped up from the log, stepping back away from the figure, a familiar dark hooded cloak covering the face of his visitor.
“Jeneus.” Murata whispered through clenched teeth, his calm relaxing moment over and his expression focused entirely on the man who had already made clear he wanted him dead.
The thin mouth that could be seen under the hood smiled coldly, before he raised his arms and removed his hood. Jeneus’ painted face came into the moonlight, and Murata couldn’t help but take another step backwards. He was alone here, and with no weapon to defend himself if Jeneus decided to attack him again.
Jeneus could obviously see this, and he smiled once again, “Nervous Daikenja?”
Murata wouldn’t rise to the bait, and he kept his mouth firmly closed. He darted his eyes to the sides, he didn’t trust anything this man said or did, his subordinates could be lurking in the trees.
“Are you real this time? Or is this just another illusion?” Murata asked cautiously.
For a moment Jeneus did nothing but stare at him, his black hair casting darker shadows over his face, before in a split second he moved, hand out stretched and wrapping around Murata’s neck, slamming him against a tree behind him. Murata’s hands flew to the hand clasping his neck, gasping in pain as Jeneus moved closer and lifted him up off the ground by his neck.
Murata’s legs scrambled at the tree behind him, trying unsuccessfully to find a foothold to release the pressure from around his neck, his hands digging into Jeneus’ as he choked and tried to gasp for air.
Jeneus’ eyes burned with a sudden fury, the strangled cries from Murata stirring him on and he tightened his hand even more around his neck. He leant in, teeth clenched, glaring right into Murata’s eyes as he struggled in his grasp.
“I have done nothing but dreamt of this day,” he growled venomously, Murata choking and trying to pry his hand from around his neck, “To witness your death, to watch as your life slips through my fingers. I want nothing more than to see you die at my feet….however…” he paused, Murata starting to go slightly blue from lack of air, before the hand around his neck loosened and was taken away, and he fell hard to the ground.
Jeneus stood back and stared at him with dark heated eyes, “…tonight is not the night.”
He watched as Murata coughed and gasped lungfuls of air, one hand rubbing at his neck, the other limp at his side as he leant back against the tree, eyes closed and letting the colour slowly return to his cheeks.
“What…what do you want with me then?” Murata rasped, peering up at him through one eye and he rubbed at the red marks on his throat.
“I am after a memory.” Jeneus replied.
But before Murata could inquire what memory, or even stand back up, Jeneus was on him again, pushing him roughly to the ground on his back, pinning him down by straddling his legs, one hand pushing down on his shoulder and the other now holding a knife to his throat.
Murata instantly stopped coughing, his eyes darting to the knife being pressed against his skin, and despite the situation couldn’t help but feel a surge of sadness at seeing the White Crow symbol on the knife handle. This was not what he had created this organisation for. The moment passed quickly though as he now glared up into Jeneus’ eyes, his breathing still shaky from nearly being strangled.
“I am alone here, and I am here out of curiosity.” Jeneus said quietly, Murata lying perfectly still beneath him but eyes scowling, “I want to know if you really do remember everything that Daikenja knew.” He spat the name like it was poison to speak.
“I know everything he did.” Murata replied, keeping his voice calm, “Some memories are more apparent than others, but yes, I do.”
Jeneus seemed to smirk; before he leant down so close their noses were almost touching. Murata tried to shrink away, but the sharp edge of the knife at this throat stilled his movements, and he could do nothing but look at up at him, eyes a little wider at the sudden closeness.
When Jeneus spoke again, his voice was deeper, and you could almost hear the amusement in his tone.
“Do you remember the nights you spent in the encampment when fighting Sousho? The nights that weren’t spent strategising attacks and talking with Shinou,” - Murata’s eyes went wide at Shinou’s name - “but the nights spent alone, while the others slept, and the only thing that was on your mind, was Shinou?”
Murata gritted his teeth, “Stop it.” He growled, squirming again under Jeneus’ weight with a fear in the back of his mind of where this conversation was going. But Jeneus simply pressed the knife harder against his neck, up against his jawline, and hard enough to break the skin. A small droplet of blood trickled down his neck into the cloth of his jacket, but it didn’t stop Murata struggling to get away, head turned away to the trees so he didn’t have to look him in the eyes.
“Do you remember,” Jeneus continued, pinning Murata’s squirming legs in place with his own, “What you used to do to those thoughts of Shinou at night?”
Murata’s head snapped back to glare fiercely at him, “That’s not me! I may remember it but it’s not me! Why are you even doing this?!”
That sickly smile returned to Jeneus’ lips, “If you do remember, then I’m sure you will remember this hand?”
In a split moment a thin silvery thread of light seemed to wrap itself around Murata’s arm’s and torso, snaking under his back and holding tight so he couldn’t move his arms, and holding the knife still threateningly at Murata’s throat, Jeneus moved his other hand off Murata’s shoulder and reached down to his groin instead.
Immediately Murata’s eyes were wider than they’d been all evening, and with a shout of both surprise and disgust, tried desperately to get away from him. Jeneus smirked again and dropped the knife, removing Murata’s glasses and throwing them to one side, placing the palm of his hand over Murata’s eyes and forcing his head back down on the grass, pressing down hard so he couldn’t move his head or see.
“Jeneus!” Murata yelled angrily, unable to do anything but squirm pathetically on the ground, his arms trapped by his sides and his legs trapped together between Jeneus’ legs. He could do nothing as he felt that hand, familiar from a distance past, work its way underneath the hem of his trousers. He tried to turn his head, but the hand over his eyes kept him from moving, and he gritted his teeth as he felt that other hand wrapped itself around his cock.
He tried to kick his legs, turn his whole body to the side, anything to get away from those fingers, but he couldn’t move at all.
“STOP IT!” he shouted, frightening some birds in the trees that flew away at the sudden noise.
His mind was filling with memories of that hand, touching a different body, Daikenja’s own body, the memories of an un-requited love for Shinou filling the lonely nights all that time ago. Daikenja had been so grateful for Shinou’s friendship he had never told him how he truly felt about him, not wanting to risk loosing him. The closest he had ever got was to touch himself, with nothing but thoughts of those blue eyes drifting through his mind those late nights.
But that was Daikenja, and this was Murata, and that known hand touching him was playing havoc with his mind. Only able to see blackness behind Jeneus’ palm, images were starting to flick across his mind, and he was starting to mix his own memories with Daikenja’s, starting to feel that hand as his own. No, as Daikenja’s own, it’s not his, it not him, and Jeneus, Jeneus is…Daikenja….Shinou…
Against his own will a moan escaped his lips, the memories of wanting Shinou, memories that weren’t his, but memories that felt like his own as Jeneus squeezed him and pumped him, making his mind start to re-live those nights alone, as if he really was Daikenja, as if he really was back in the past.
“Nghh…stop it…” he breathed.
He didn’t mean for it to come out as pleading as it sounded, but he was having trouble keeping his own mind. Even the way Jeneus was moving his hand was familiar, the way Daikenja used to touch himself. The same skin, the same motion, how he’d do long smooth motions for a moment then pump it fast, building the pressure, before going slow again almost torturing himself, those blue eyes and soft blond hair invading his vision.
At some point Murata had stopped struggling, too immersed in trying to keep his own mind and not letting himself fall to pleasure than to trying and escape. Unfortunately he was failing. Having never expected to ever have “Daikenja’s” hand touching him, to bring forth such strong memories and feelings, he’d never had to try and suppress them so much. He couldn’t concentrate; he kept falling into small bursts of pleasure. He gasped, wanting to throw his head back but Jeneus’ hand still preventing him from moving his head.
“Eurgh…”
Murata, Daikenja, Murata, Daikenja, everything was blurring into one and still those blue eyes watched him.
“Stop it…nggh…please…”
He raised his hips as much as he could to press himself against Jeneus. He couldn’t help himself, the memories were too strong, the pleasure was too much. He was lost. He was Daikenja, he was back at the military encampment. He was alone, it was dark, and he was lying back on his bedding on the floor, long hair tousled at his sides, eyes closed and his hands thrusting over his cock, wanting more than anything for them to be Shinou’s, but knowing this was the best he’d ever dare get.
“Shinou!” Murata gasped, his hips pushing more and more against Jeneus, thrusting upwards as much as he could, wanting more, needing more.
“Argh…nghh…Shin…”
Lost to the world, Murata couldn’t see Jeneus smiling in satisfaction down at his flushed face. He thrust downwards to meet Murata’s hips, and Murata let out long desperate groan. He was gasping, panting, almost becoming frantic at Jeneus’ motions.
Without loosing his pace, Jeneus leant forward, his lips barely an inch from Murata’s.
“The memory I want from you,” he whispered, answering Murata’s earlier question as Murata continued to thrash and moan underneath him, “Is to see you just like this, at my very mercy, and at your most vunerable.”
With that he pressed his lips hard to Murata’s, plunging his tongue in deep, drinking in the young Daikenja’s moans and gasps. He removed his hand over Murata’s eyes, which let him throw his head back in pleasure, eyes tightly closed, and Jeneus still dominating his mouth, sucking and biting his tongue. But with one final hard thrust down with his own hips and a few last hard pumps to Murata’s cock, Murata silently screamed into Jeneus’ mouth, faces and emotions and memories bursting all at once into a white light behind his eyes.
Jeneus leant back and watched as Murata came down from his high, lying there on the grass underneath him, breathing heavily, face flushed and eyes still closed.
Jeneus smirked, “Daikenja?”
Murata slowly opened his eyes, his pupils dilated and eyes slightly glazed, still lost in memories of the past.
Jeneus leant back down and tilted Murata’s chin to face him, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “The next time we meet,” he whispered, “I will kill you.” And with that he stood up, the silvery threads around Murata’s chest and arms disappearing into thin air, and covering his head with his hood, ran off into the trees.
Murata didn’t know how much time had passed before his mind cleared, before he realised where and who he was, and before he realised what had just happened.
He slowly sat up in the grass, his clothes still ruffled and opened, and blinked hazily. Automatically he looked around for his glasses, and saw them glinting in the moonlight by the base of a tree. Reaching for them and placing them back on his nose, he looked around at the trees, at the moonlight filtering through onto the ground, before finally looking down at himself and the white mess on his clothes.
He sighed to himself. Here he was thinking he’d experienced everything a person could possibly experience in 4000 years, but meeting an identical version of his first life, a sadistic, identical version of his first life, was not something even he had foreseen.
He sighed again, “You have some serious Shinou issues Daikenja.” He said to himself, before slowly standing up and taking a tissue out of his pocket to clean himself with. As he re-arranged his clothes and started on the walk back to the Shrine, he continued to wonder exactly who Jeneus was, and continued to wonder if he was going to ever get another decent nights sleep ever again.
The End
Author: starrose17 (starrose_fanfic )
Pairing: Jeneus/Murata (am I the first one to write this pairing? XD), mentions of one sided Shinou/Daikenja (Dai wanting Shinou).
Rating: R (possibly NC17, I never know how to rate things ^^;;).Prompt: ‘Insomnia’ and Jeneus/Murata pairing for tsutsuji .
Beta: No beta, only spellchecked.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything to do with KKM, just a fangirl making no money.
Insomnia
Ever since the White Crows had returned, and Jeneus had appeared, Murata hadn’t had a single nights good sleep. His mind was constantly racing with memories long forgotten, trying to piece together pieces of the puzzle. What had happened to his White Crows? Who was Jeneus? How could he even exist? It felt like the answers were buried somewhere deep in his memories, like he knew all the answers but couldn’t quite reach them, and he couldn’t search through the thousands of years concentrating hard to find those answers without giving himself a painful migraine. His head had been throbbing for days, and going to sleep had proven impossible with millions of memories racing through his mind.
It didn’t help that Shinou kept on appearing randomly in his room to see if he was alright. He got that his old King was concerned but did he realise how irritating he was being? On the very rare occasion he’d find himself just drifting off to sleep, he’d sense that ghostly presence and a deep voice would ask, “Are you all right my Daikenja?”.
Murata had thrown his pillow at him one time and thrown his bedcovers completely over himself to block out his annoying King.
This night was no different, and after tossing and turning for hours and shooing Shinou out of his bedroom for a FIFTH time, Murata finally accepted he was not going to get any sleep. Getting out of bed and getting dressed, he headed through the corridors and out into the courtyard of the Shrine, nodding at the female guards polity as he headed out into the trees. Perhaps a midnight walk would clear his head a little. He wouldn’t go too far, just out into the trees a little way.
It was a full moon tonight, and it shone brightly through the trees, bathing even the darkest corner with a silvery glow. As he walked he took deep breaths, the cool air refreshing and invigorating his sleep-deprived brain. His mind wandered back to Shinou, and wondered what his reaction would be if he ever saw Jeneus. In Murata’s mind, Shinou is who he was before, blond and blue eyed, but to Shinou, even though Murata held his precious Daikenja’s soul, Murata was not who Shinou remembered. Long straight black hair, narrower piercing eyes, and of course, physically older, much more than Murata’s barely 16 year old self. What would Shinou do if he came across a man who in every physically aspect was the Daikenja he remembered? Would that change things between them?
Maybe I’d finally get some sleep, Murata smiled to himself, but the smile faded quickly.
He just wished he knew who Jeneus was, how he came to be, and what he was doing. Again that notion that the answers were just niggling at the back of his mind was driving him mad, and he shook his head a little to get rid of them. He needed to relax out here, not get worked up over thoughts of Jeneus and why he seemed to hate him so much. There was a lot more going on here that what had met the eye.
As Murata continued to walk, he came out near a steep bank in the hill, the trees dropping with the curvature of the ground, and could now look out over the tree tops towards Blood Pledge Castle. He sighed, smiling warmly to himself at thoughts of Yuuri getting half kicked out of bed by a sleeping Wolfram, and sat down on a fallen log beside him.
He closed his eyes, letting the breeze ruffle his hair and listening to nothing but the wind in the trees. He should do this more often when his memories got too much.
He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, but suddenly he felt like he wasn’t alone. Spending time in a Shrine with a certain blond ghost who could appear anywhere at any time made him very good at sensing a presence, and he opened his eyes, staring down at the trees.
“Aren’t you going to come out?” he asked the air, and a moment later there was a rustling to his left. He turned to look, but even Murata wasn’t prepared for who he saw standing there.
In a flash he jumped up from the log, stepping back away from the figure, a familiar dark hooded cloak covering the face of his visitor.
“Jeneus.” Murata whispered through clenched teeth, his calm relaxing moment over and his expression focused entirely on the man who had already made clear he wanted him dead.
The thin mouth that could be seen under the hood smiled coldly, before he raised his arms and removed his hood. Jeneus’ painted face came into the moonlight, and Murata couldn’t help but take another step backwards. He was alone here, and with no weapon to defend himself if Jeneus decided to attack him again.
Jeneus could obviously see this, and he smiled once again, “Nervous Daikenja?”
Murata wouldn’t rise to the bait, and he kept his mouth firmly closed. He darted his eyes to the sides, he didn’t trust anything this man said or did, his subordinates could be lurking in the trees.
“Are you real this time? Or is this just another illusion?” Murata asked cautiously.
For a moment Jeneus did nothing but stare at him, his black hair casting darker shadows over his face, before in a split second he moved, hand out stretched and wrapping around Murata’s neck, slamming him against a tree behind him. Murata’s hands flew to the hand clasping his neck, gasping in pain as Jeneus moved closer and lifted him up off the ground by his neck.
Murata’s legs scrambled at the tree behind him, trying unsuccessfully to find a foothold to release the pressure from around his neck, his hands digging into Jeneus’ as he choked and tried to gasp for air.
Jeneus’ eyes burned with a sudden fury, the strangled cries from Murata stirring him on and he tightened his hand even more around his neck. He leant in, teeth clenched, glaring right into Murata’s eyes as he struggled in his grasp.
“I have done nothing but dreamt of this day,” he growled venomously, Murata choking and trying to pry his hand from around his neck, “To witness your death, to watch as your life slips through my fingers. I want nothing more than to see you die at my feet….however…” he paused, Murata starting to go slightly blue from lack of air, before the hand around his neck loosened and was taken away, and he fell hard to the ground.
Jeneus stood back and stared at him with dark heated eyes, “…tonight is not the night.”
He watched as Murata coughed and gasped lungfuls of air, one hand rubbing at his neck, the other limp at his side as he leant back against the tree, eyes closed and letting the colour slowly return to his cheeks.
“What…what do you want with me then?” Murata rasped, peering up at him through one eye and he rubbed at the red marks on his throat.
“I am after a memory.” Jeneus replied.
But before Murata could inquire what memory, or even stand back up, Jeneus was on him again, pushing him roughly to the ground on his back, pinning him down by straddling his legs, one hand pushing down on his shoulder and the other now holding a knife to his throat.
Murata instantly stopped coughing, his eyes darting to the knife being pressed against his skin, and despite the situation couldn’t help but feel a surge of sadness at seeing the White Crow symbol on the knife handle. This was not what he had created this organisation for. The moment passed quickly though as he now glared up into Jeneus’ eyes, his breathing still shaky from nearly being strangled.
“I am alone here, and I am here out of curiosity.” Jeneus said quietly, Murata lying perfectly still beneath him but eyes scowling, “I want to know if you really do remember everything that Daikenja knew.” He spat the name like it was poison to speak.
“I know everything he did.” Murata replied, keeping his voice calm, “Some memories are more apparent than others, but yes, I do.”
Jeneus seemed to smirk; before he leant down so close their noses were almost touching. Murata tried to shrink away, but the sharp edge of the knife at this throat stilled his movements, and he could do nothing but look at up at him, eyes a little wider at the sudden closeness.
When Jeneus spoke again, his voice was deeper, and you could almost hear the amusement in his tone.
“Do you remember the nights you spent in the encampment when fighting Sousho? The nights that weren’t spent strategising attacks and talking with Shinou,” - Murata’s eyes went wide at Shinou’s name - “but the nights spent alone, while the others slept, and the only thing that was on your mind, was Shinou?”
Murata gritted his teeth, “Stop it.” He growled, squirming again under Jeneus’ weight with a fear in the back of his mind of where this conversation was going. But Jeneus simply pressed the knife harder against his neck, up against his jawline, and hard enough to break the skin. A small droplet of blood trickled down his neck into the cloth of his jacket, but it didn’t stop Murata struggling to get away, head turned away to the trees so he didn’t have to look him in the eyes.
“Do you remember,” Jeneus continued, pinning Murata’s squirming legs in place with his own, “What you used to do to those thoughts of Shinou at night?”
Murata’s head snapped back to glare fiercely at him, “That’s not me! I may remember it but it’s not me! Why are you even doing this?!”
That sickly smile returned to Jeneus’ lips, “If you do remember, then I’m sure you will remember this hand?”
In a split moment a thin silvery thread of light seemed to wrap itself around Murata’s arm’s and torso, snaking under his back and holding tight so he couldn’t move his arms, and holding the knife still threateningly at Murata’s throat, Jeneus moved his other hand off Murata’s shoulder and reached down to his groin instead.
Immediately Murata’s eyes were wider than they’d been all evening, and with a shout of both surprise and disgust, tried desperately to get away from him. Jeneus smirked again and dropped the knife, removing Murata’s glasses and throwing them to one side, placing the palm of his hand over Murata’s eyes and forcing his head back down on the grass, pressing down hard so he couldn’t move his head or see.
“Jeneus!” Murata yelled angrily, unable to do anything but squirm pathetically on the ground, his arms trapped by his sides and his legs trapped together between Jeneus’ legs. He could do nothing as he felt that hand, familiar from a distance past, work its way underneath the hem of his trousers. He tried to turn his head, but the hand over his eyes kept him from moving, and he gritted his teeth as he felt that other hand wrapped itself around his cock.
He tried to kick his legs, turn his whole body to the side, anything to get away from those fingers, but he couldn’t move at all.
“STOP IT!” he shouted, frightening some birds in the trees that flew away at the sudden noise.
His mind was filling with memories of that hand, touching a different body, Daikenja’s own body, the memories of an un-requited love for Shinou filling the lonely nights all that time ago. Daikenja had been so grateful for Shinou’s friendship he had never told him how he truly felt about him, not wanting to risk loosing him. The closest he had ever got was to touch himself, with nothing but thoughts of those blue eyes drifting through his mind those late nights.
But that was Daikenja, and this was Murata, and that known hand touching him was playing havoc with his mind. Only able to see blackness behind Jeneus’ palm, images were starting to flick across his mind, and he was starting to mix his own memories with Daikenja’s, starting to feel that hand as his own. No, as Daikenja’s own, it’s not his, it not him, and Jeneus, Jeneus is…Daikenja….Shinou…
Against his own will a moan escaped his lips, the memories of wanting Shinou, memories that weren’t his, but memories that felt like his own as Jeneus squeezed him and pumped him, making his mind start to re-live those nights alone, as if he really was Daikenja, as if he really was back in the past.
“Nghh…stop it…” he breathed.
He didn’t mean for it to come out as pleading as it sounded, but he was having trouble keeping his own mind. Even the way Jeneus was moving his hand was familiar, the way Daikenja used to touch himself. The same skin, the same motion, how he’d do long smooth motions for a moment then pump it fast, building the pressure, before going slow again almost torturing himself, those blue eyes and soft blond hair invading his vision.
At some point Murata had stopped struggling, too immersed in trying to keep his own mind and not letting himself fall to pleasure than to trying and escape. Unfortunately he was failing. Having never expected to ever have “Daikenja’s” hand touching him, to bring forth such strong memories and feelings, he’d never had to try and suppress them so much. He couldn’t concentrate; he kept falling into small bursts of pleasure. He gasped, wanting to throw his head back but Jeneus’ hand still preventing him from moving his head.
“Eurgh…”
Murata, Daikenja, Murata, Daikenja, everything was blurring into one and still those blue eyes watched him.
“Stop it…nggh…please…”
He raised his hips as much as he could to press himself against Jeneus. He couldn’t help himself, the memories were too strong, the pleasure was too much. He was lost. He was Daikenja, he was back at the military encampment. He was alone, it was dark, and he was lying back on his bedding on the floor, long hair tousled at his sides, eyes closed and his hands thrusting over his cock, wanting more than anything for them to be Shinou’s, but knowing this was the best he’d ever dare get.
“Shinou!” Murata gasped, his hips pushing more and more against Jeneus, thrusting upwards as much as he could, wanting more, needing more.
“Argh…nghh…Shin…”
Lost to the world, Murata couldn’t see Jeneus smiling in satisfaction down at his flushed face. He thrust downwards to meet Murata’s hips, and Murata let out long desperate groan. He was gasping, panting, almost becoming frantic at Jeneus’ motions.
Without loosing his pace, Jeneus leant forward, his lips barely an inch from Murata’s.
“The memory I want from you,” he whispered, answering Murata’s earlier question as Murata continued to thrash and moan underneath him, “Is to see you just like this, at my very mercy, and at your most vunerable.”
With that he pressed his lips hard to Murata’s, plunging his tongue in deep, drinking in the young Daikenja’s moans and gasps. He removed his hand over Murata’s eyes, which let him throw his head back in pleasure, eyes tightly closed, and Jeneus still dominating his mouth, sucking and biting his tongue. But with one final hard thrust down with his own hips and a few last hard pumps to Murata’s cock, Murata silently screamed into Jeneus’ mouth, faces and emotions and memories bursting all at once into a white light behind his eyes.
Jeneus leant back and watched as Murata came down from his high, lying there on the grass underneath him, breathing heavily, face flushed and eyes still closed.
Jeneus smirked, “Daikenja?”
Murata slowly opened his eyes, his pupils dilated and eyes slightly glazed, still lost in memories of the past.
Jeneus leant back down and tilted Murata’s chin to face him, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “The next time we meet,” he whispered, “I will kill you.” And with that he stood up, the silvery threads around Murata’s chest and arms disappearing into thin air, and covering his head with his hood, ran off into the trees.
Murata didn’t know how much time had passed before his mind cleared, before he realised where and who he was, and before he realised what had just happened.
He slowly sat up in the grass, his clothes still ruffled and opened, and blinked hazily. Automatically he looked around for his glasses, and saw them glinting in the moonlight by the base of a tree. Reaching for them and placing them back on his nose, he looked around at the trees, at the moonlight filtering through onto the ground, before finally looking down at himself and the white mess on his clothes.
He sighed to himself. Here he was thinking he’d experienced everything a person could possibly experience in 4000 years, but meeting an identical version of his first life, a sadistic, identical version of his first life, was not something even he had foreseen.
He sighed again, “You have some serious Shinou issues Daikenja.” He said to himself, before slowly standing up and taking a tissue out of his pocket to clean himself with. As he re-arranged his clothes and started on the walk back to the Shrine, he continued to wonder exactly who Jeneus was, and continued to wonder if he was going to ever get another decent nights sleep ever again.
The End