[Yami no Matsuei] "Demon on Angel" (R)
Author's Note: Written for comment_fic's "Yami no Matsuei, possessed!Tsuzuki/sub!Muraki, "I like this side of you, Tsuzuki-san." (aka, it's the end of the world as we know it and Hisoka feels like shit.)" Takes place at the end of the Devil's Trill arc
Tsuzuki had not been himself since the Minase case, and to Hisoka's senses, it was literally that. Someone else seemed to have hijacked the usually ebullient shinigami's head and he seemed cold and distant.
When Tsuzuki started disappearing at night from the apartment they had started sharing for hours at a time without a word of where he was going, Hisoka knew something had gone wrong and he started to follow Tsuzuki to see where he went. Usually Tsuzuki found a way to give him the slip, but at last one night, he traced Tsuzuki's spirit energy to a love hotel in a seedier part of Shinjuku. He'd suspected something like this, but he hadn't suspected the other imprint of spirit energy he had picked up.
He felt it almost before he fazed through the door, that darkness and that sense of sickness. But he didn't expect to see what he found there.
Several dozen candles of all sizes lit the room, ranged on every flat surface that wasn't the floor or the bed, the soft, shifting light warming the two figures on the bed. Tsuzuki, no longer his gentle self but the dark-winged creature Sagatanasu had transformed him into kneeling over a pale figure laying on its back, arms tied beneath it, thighs apart.
"Yes... show me your darkness, Mr. Tsuzuki... show me your true form..." Muraki's mellow voice purred. "I enjoy this side of you more than the face you show to the world, that kindly, simpering mask. You match me in strength when you unleash that side of you."
"Shut up, you pale worm," Tsuzuki snarled clamping a hand down over Muraki's mouth. The pale man sputtered but Hisoka could tell he had emitted a muffled laugh. The feelings of lust and anger and a dark, lubricid joy clogged the air in the room like smoke, leaving him feeling so nauseous, he had to leave, starting to phase into spirit form.
His movement must have caught Muraki's attention. Hoisting himself onto his elbow, he somehow managed to peer around the shinigami's hip.
"What are you staring at, you pale bastard?" Tsuzuki snarled, releasing the prone man's mouth.
"Look behind you. Did the boy follow you, or did you call him here for a possible threesome? I think I'd enjoy that," Muraki asked, his good eye shining with glee.
Tsuzuki turned to glare at Hisoka, ready to attack, his dark wings flaring. But Hisoka saw a flicker of the Tsuzuki that he knew in those burning violet eyes, the fear and the shame and the self-loathing fighting the fury and the demonic madness.
Tsuzuki had not been himself since the Minase case, and to Hisoka's senses, it was literally that. Someone else seemed to have hijacked the usually ebullient shinigami's head and he seemed cold and distant.
When Tsuzuki started disappearing at night from the apartment they had started sharing for hours at a time without a word of where he was going, Hisoka knew something had gone wrong and he started to follow Tsuzuki to see where he went. Usually Tsuzuki found a way to give him the slip, but at last one night, he traced Tsuzuki's spirit energy to a love hotel in a seedier part of Shinjuku. He'd suspected something like this, but he hadn't suspected the other imprint of spirit energy he had picked up.
He felt it almost before he fazed through the door, that darkness and that sense of sickness. But he didn't expect to see what he found there.
Several dozen candles of all sizes lit the room, ranged on every flat surface that wasn't the floor or the bed, the soft, shifting light warming the two figures on the bed. Tsuzuki, no longer his gentle self but the dark-winged creature Sagatanasu had transformed him into kneeling over a pale figure laying on its back, arms tied beneath it, thighs apart.
"Yes... show me your darkness, Mr. Tsuzuki... show me your true form..." Muraki's mellow voice purred. "I enjoy this side of you more than the face you show to the world, that kindly, simpering mask. You match me in strength when you unleash that side of you."
"Shut up, you pale worm," Tsuzuki snarled clamping a hand down over Muraki's mouth. The pale man sputtered but Hisoka could tell he had emitted a muffled laugh. The feelings of lust and anger and a dark, lubricid joy clogged the air in the room like smoke, leaving him feeling so nauseous, he had to leave, starting to phase into spirit form.
His movement must have caught Muraki's attention. Hoisting himself onto his elbow, he somehow managed to peer around the shinigami's hip.
"What are you staring at, you pale bastard?" Tsuzuki snarled, releasing the prone man's mouth.
"Look behind you. Did the boy follow you, or did you call him here for a possible threesome? I think I'd enjoy that," Muraki asked, his good eye shining with glee.
Tsuzuki turned to glare at Hisoka, ready to attack, his dark wings flaring. But Hisoka saw a flicker of the Tsuzuki that he knew in those burning violet eyes, the fear and the shame and the self-loathing fighting the fury and the demonic madness.