[Yami no Matsuei] "Winner Takes Everything... " (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for "10_kink"'s "Prize" and for "kink_bingo"'s "negotiation". Alternate path for the King of Swords arc: what might have happened if Hisoka had not intervened after Tsuzuki lost his hand of poker.
"Tonight you will be mine, for this one night," Muraki purred, moving in and nuzzling the side of Tsuzuki's face, his hand on the shinigami's waist, fingertips sliding under the edge of the dealer's vest. Tsuzuki felt himself quiver and he closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the pale man, at least for the moment. But shutting out Muraki was as easy as shutting out daylight when you stand in direct sunlight. Just as the sunlight manages to shine through closed eyelids, Muraki's cold heat burned through Tsuzuki's hesitation.
He felt Muraki pull back just enough. "Hmmm, are you unwilling to be claimed? Were you hoping to be with someone else tonight?" Muraki asked.
"I'm sharing a cabin with Hisoka," Tsuzuki replied, wary now that Muraki might want to enact his claim, there in that very cabin.
Muraki chuckled, as if he had divined Hisoka's thoughts. "Don't worry, the boy doesn't have to know that I've claimed you for the night," he said. "I have every intention of bringing you back to the privacy of my cabin," he added as if to reassure him, then stepped back and drew Tsuzuki away from the wall, his hand behind the shinigami's waist. "Come, before anyone grows suspicious."
He lead Tsuzuki along the hallway, into the corridor with the VIP cabins, pausing before one door and unlocking it before guiding Tsuzuki inside.
They lay apart, Muraki couched on his back, Tsuzuki curled on his side, facing the wall against which the curtained bed stood. Muraki sat up, the lamplight silvering on his pale skin as he reached to the night stand at the bedside, unlatching the drawer and taking out a silver cigarette case.
"You're still thinking of the stories you've heard about the ghost woman on board this ship," Muraki said, opening the case with a soft click.
"It's the only reason I let you talk me into this," Tsuzuki muttering, wondering if, after the reaming Muraki had given him, he would be able to walk without looking sore or bow-legged.
"You are rather single-minded, almost to the point of monomania," Muraki noted, taking a lighter from the drawer, flicking it open and dipping the tip of his cigarette into the flame. Flicking the lighter shut, he took a long, methodical pull from the cigarette, breathing the smoke out between his parted lips in a wispy stream.
"Very well: there was a young woman named Eileen, who worked as a dealer on board this ship, a girl from Hong Kong who had been something of a street rat, until Kakyouin took her in and cleaned her up, before making her his daughter's companion. One day, she disappeared from the ship while the vessel was at sea: some say that she had gotten too close to some of the illegal activities on board the ship -- the rigged games and the back room deals that corrupt government officials made in secret. They say that she paid for knowing too much, by being tossed overboard by the criminals who found her out. It's said that her ghost still haunts the corridors of the ship, that her footsteps and moans can be heard, along with the sound of something heavy being dragged along the companionways.
"Like someone dragging a body?" Tsuzuki asked, turning over onto his back.
Muraki snorted gently, under his breath, a smirk crossing his face. "I'd normally consider that a rather morbid assumption, but that's part of your job, dealing with things most humans would shrink from even considering," Muraki replied, taking another pull from the cigarette. "But it's a perfect guess: it sounds exactly like a body being dragged."
"That's terrible," Tsuzuki murmured, sitting up, crossing his legs under himself and leaning one elbow on his knee, hand cupping his chin.
"You feel sorrow for people so easily," Muraki noted, looking at him, the smoke from his cigarette trailing over his face.
Tsuzuki rolled one shoulder. "Someone has to, I suppose, and in my line of work, you have to show compassion to the dead, to put them at ease, as they cross the line into the next life." Tsuzuki replied, folding his arms on his chest.
"Even Wakabayashi, that corrupt old fool?" Muraki asked, taking another pull from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out with a bit more force than usual.
"Especially someone like him: they probably need it the most, when you think about what they went through, dying so suddenly and so horribly," Tsuzuki replied, wanting to get out of the bed as quickly as he could, but not daring to make a move just yet, because Muraki's lean form blocked his way.
Muraki must have divined Tsuzuki's thoughts: he shifted, swinging his long legs over the edge of the mattress, giving Tsuzuki free passage. "If you ever want a repeat of this night, don't hesitate to knock on my door," he said.
"Don't fool yourself," Tsuzuki growled, reaching for his trousers. "Trust me, this was a one time deal."
"Till you change your mind and beat a path to my door," Muraki said, reaching for the robe that lay draped over a chair. "When, may I be so bold to ask, was the last time you spent a tender moment in another's arms, much less a time when you came away richer, rather than short the price of your companion?"
"Don't go there," Tsuzuki snapped, looking away and wishing he could get up the courage to belt the bastard, but Muraki spoke the truth. And he had to admit, it was a fair price for the information...
"Tonight you will be mine, for this one night," Muraki purred, moving in and nuzzling the side of Tsuzuki's face, his hand on the shinigami's waist, fingertips sliding under the edge of the dealer's vest. Tsuzuki felt himself quiver and he closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the pale man, at least for the moment. But shutting out Muraki was as easy as shutting out daylight when you stand in direct sunlight. Just as the sunlight manages to shine through closed eyelids, Muraki's cold heat burned through Tsuzuki's hesitation.
He felt Muraki pull back just enough. "Hmmm, are you unwilling to be claimed? Were you hoping to be with someone else tonight?" Muraki asked.
"I'm sharing a cabin with Hisoka," Tsuzuki replied, wary now that Muraki might want to enact his claim, there in that very cabin.
Muraki chuckled, as if he had divined Hisoka's thoughts. "Don't worry, the boy doesn't have to know that I've claimed you for the night," he said. "I have every intention of bringing you back to the privacy of my cabin," he added as if to reassure him, then stepped back and drew Tsuzuki away from the wall, his hand behind the shinigami's waist. "Come, before anyone grows suspicious."
He lead Tsuzuki along the hallway, into the corridor with the VIP cabins, pausing before one door and unlocking it before guiding Tsuzuki inside.
They lay apart, Muraki couched on his back, Tsuzuki curled on his side, facing the wall against which the curtained bed stood. Muraki sat up, the lamplight silvering on his pale skin as he reached to the night stand at the bedside, unlatching the drawer and taking out a silver cigarette case.
"You're still thinking of the stories you've heard about the ghost woman on board this ship," Muraki said, opening the case with a soft click.
"It's the only reason I let you talk me into this," Tsuzuki muttering, wondering if, after the reaming Muraki had given him, he would be able to walk without looking sore or bow-legged.
"You are rather single-minded, almost to the point of monomania," Muraki noted, taking a lighter from the drawer, flicking it open and dipping the tip of his cigarette into the flame. Flicking the lighter shut, he took a long, methodical pull from the cigarette, breathing the smoke out between his parted lips in a wispy stream.
"Very well: there was a young woman named Eileen, who worked as a dealer on board this ship, a girl from Hong Kong who had been something of a street rat, until Kakyouin took her in and cleaned her up, before making her his daughter's companion. One day, she disappeared from the ship while the vessel was at sea: some say that she had gotten too close to some of the illegal activities on board the ship -- the rigged games and the back room deals that corrupt government officials made in secret. They say that she paid for knowing too much, by being tossed overboard by the criminals who found her out. It's said that her ghost still haunts the corridors of the ship, that her footsteps and moans can be heard, along with the sound of something heavy being dragged along the companionways.
"Like someone dragging a body?" Tsuzuki asked, turning over onto his back.
Muraki snorted gently, under his breath, a smirk crossing his face. "I'd normally consider that a rather morbid assumption, but that's part of your job, dealing with things most humans would shrink from even considering," Muraki replied, taking another pull from the cigarette. "But it's a perfect guess: it sounds exactly like a body being dragged."
"That's terrible," Tsuzuki murmured, sitting up, crossing his legs under himself and leaning one elbow on his knee, hand cupping his chin.
"You feel sorrow for people so easily," Muraki noted, looking at him, the smoke from his cigarette trailing over his face.
Tsuzuki rolled one shoulder. "Someone has to, I suppose, and in my line of work, you have to show compassion to the dead, to put them at ease, as they cross the line into the next life." Tsuzuki replied, folding his arms on his chest.
"Even Wakabayashi, that corrupt old fool?" Muraki asked, taking another pull from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out with a bit more force than usual.
"Especially someone like him: they probably need it the most, when you think about what they went through, dying so suddenly and so horribly," Tsuzuki replied, wanting to get out of the bed as quickly as he could, but not daring to make a move just yet, because Muraki's lean form blocked his way.
Muraki must have divined Tsuzuki's thoughts: he shifted, swinging his long legs over the edge of the mattress, giving Tsuzuki free passage. "If you ever want a repeat of this night, don't hesitate to knock on my door," he said.
"Don't fool yourself," Tsuzuki growled, reaching for his trousers. "Trust me, this was a one time deal."
"Till you change your mind and beat a path to my door," Muraki said, reaching for the robe that lay draped over a chair. "When, may I be so bold to ask, was the last time you spent a tender moment in another's arms, much less a time when you came away richer, rather than short the price of your companion?"
"Don't go there," Tsuzuki snapped, looking away and wishing he could get up the courage to belt the bastard, but Muraki spoke the truth. And he had to admit, it was a fair price for the information...