[Yami no Matsuei] "The Silence After Coupling" (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for < lj user="10_kink_prompts">'s "well-shagged", featuring Muraki and Tsuzuki in a moment after some intense coupling.
Muraki's hawk-like shriek of release and ecstasy faded away into the shadowed corners of the room, the third time that night when Tsuzuki heard this cry and for him, hopefully, the last. The flames of the candles on the bedside table flickered as Muraki sighed and rolled over onto his pillows, the silk covers sighing.
"Had enough?" Tsuzuki asked, choosing the moment to turn over onto his side. The ache in his other end had already started to fade and the nicks in his arms and chest and back where Muraki's nails had cut into him had already started to fade.
"Of you? Never," Muraki murmured contentedly. "Enough for tonight? Yes, three rounds is enough, and I'm sure you had your fill from me." He reached over and laid a caressing hand on the shinigami's lean abdomen. "If my seed were fattening, you'd be starting to thicken here."
Tsuzuki pulled in his stomach muscles. "Knock it off, Muraki and let me sleep. You've worn me out."
Muraki chuckled and settled back down beside Tsuzuki. The other, shorter male stole a glance at his keeper, looking into the free-standing full length mirror which Muraki insisted on keeping by the bedside, the better to enjoy their love-making. At least he had backed down from his initial choice, of putting a mirror on the ceiling over the bed, like something out of a tacky love hotel. Muraki's pale form lay beside his, pallid against the dove-grey silk sheets, his long limbs sprawled elegantly, while Tsuzuki lay curled beside him, as if trying to look as small as possible next to his keeper.
"Worn you out, you say?" Muraki asked, at length, his good eye peering through his tousled fringe as he watched Tsuzuki, by way of the same mirror. "Given your nature, I dare to question that. It simply wouldn't do if someone whom you continually think of as a mere mortal were to 'wear out' someone like you," he observed. He reached out and ran a fingertip along Tsuzuki's spine, bringing a sigh to the shinigami's lips. "I think that you're gravely mistaken: You were the one who wore me out. I was the one atop you the whole time, drowning myself in your beauty. Are you relieved to have me off your back or your chest, depending on my approach?"
"For someone who claims to be as tuckered out from reaming me as you claim to be, you sure talk a lot," Tsuzuki growled, shifting on the mattress as if he could burrow into it and get out of Muraki's sight. Muraki withdrew his hand and laid it on his own lower chest. "You rendered me capable of speaking only in sighs and groans and screams of pleasure," he replied. "You caused the words from my heart to be blocked in my throat, and now that I have succeeded in recovering my voice once I found my release, those words have started to flow freely again. It won't be for long, though. A few more moments and I shall be asleep and you will be quit of my chatter."
"Can't come soon enough," Tsuzuki growled, taking the pillow on his side of the bed, and popping it over the side of his own head, to block out the chatter. He thought he heard an amused chuckle from Muraki, but the layers of feathers and fabric made it hard for him to be certain.
When Tsuzuki dared to pull back the pillow and see Muraki had fallen asleep, he found his keeper had, at last, dozed off, his head tilted so that his face had turned toward Tsuzuki's pillow, his pale-skinned features gone slack and peaceful. When he lay that quietly, looking that innocent and relaxed, he looked beautiful, even vulnerable. Even, dare Tsuzuki think it, young and fragile, as if some aspect of that delicate young kid from the old photos he had seen in his keeper's files might still linger within this dangerous man, hiding behind the cold bodied and cynical doctor he had grown into. Only then, when he saw Muraki like this, could Tsuzuki turn over and lay his arm across Muraki's chest before resting his head on the other's pillow. Only then would he give himself over to the peace and contentment that warmed the shadows of their bed...
Muraki's hawk-like shriek of release and ecstasy faded away into the shadowed corners of the room, the third time that night when Tsuzuki heard this cry and for him, hopefully, the last. The flames of the candles on the bedside table flickered as Muraki sighed and rolled over onto his pillows, the silk covers sighing.
"Had enough?" Tsuzuki asked, choosing the moment to turn over onto his side. The ache in his other end had already started to fade and the nicks in his arms and chest and back where Muraki's nails had cut into him had already started to fade.
"Of you? Never," Muraki murmured contentedly. "Enough for tonight? Yes, three rounds is enough, and I'm sure you had your fill from me." He reached over and laid a caressing hand on the shinigami's lean abdomen. "If my seed were fattening, you'd be starting to thicken here."
Tsuzuki pulled in his stomach muscles. "Knock it off, Muraki and let me sleep. You've worn me out."
Muraki chuckled and settled back down beside Tsuzuki. The other, shorter male stole a glance at his keeper, looking into the free-standing full length mirror which Muraki insisted on keeping by the bedside, the better to enjoy their love-making. At least he had backed down from his initial choice, of putting a mirror on the ceiling over the bed, like something out of a tacky love hotel. Muraki's pale form lay beside his, pallid against the dove-grey silk sheets, his long limbs sprawled elegantly, while Tsuzuki lay curled beside him, as if trying to look as small as possible next to his keeper.
"Worn you out, you say?" Muraki asked, at length, his good eye peering through his tousled fringe as he watched Tsuzuki, by way of the same mirror. "Given your nature, I dare to question that. It simply wouldn't do if someone whom you continually think of as a mere mortal were to 'wear out' someone like you," he observed. He reached out and ran a fingertip along Tsuzuki's spine, bringing a sigh to the shinigami's lips. "I think that you're gravely mistaken: You were the one who wore me out. I was the one atop you the whole time, drowning myself in your beauty. Are you relieved to have me off your back or your chest, depending on my approach?"
"For someone who claims to be as tuckered out from reaming me as you claim to be, you sure talk a lot," Tsuzuki growled, shifting on the mattress as if he could burrow into it and get out of Muraki's sight. Muraki withdrew his hand and laid it on his own lower chest. "You rendered me capable of speaking only in sighs and groans and screams of pleasure," he replied. "You caused the words from my heart to be blocked in my throat, and now that I have succeeded in recovering my voice once I found my release, those words have started to flow freely again. It won't be for long, though. A few more moments and I shall be asleep and you will be quit of my chatter."
"Can't come soon enough," Tsuzuki growled, taking the pillow on his side of the bed, and popping it over the side of his own head, to block out the chatter. He thought he heard an amused chuckle from Muraki, but the layers of feathers and fabric made it hard for him to be certain.
When Tsuzuki dared to pull back the pillow and see Muraki had fallen asleep, he found his keeper had, at last, dozed off, his head tilted so that his face had turned toward Tsuzuki's pillow, his pale-skinned features gone slack and peaceful. When he lay that quietly, looking that innocent and relaxed, he looked beautiful, even vulnerable. Even, dare Tsuzuki think it, young and fragile, as if some aspect of that delicate young kid from the old photos he had seen in his keeper's files might still linger within this dangerous man, hiding behind the cold bodied and cynical doctor he had grown into. Only then, when he saw Muraki like this, could Tsuzuki turn over and lay his arm across Muraki's chest before resting his head on the other's pillow. Only then would he give himself over to the peace and contentment that warmed the shadows of their bed...