Autumn Nights [Yami no Matsuei, Muraki/Oriya, R]- sorry it's late
Title: Autumn Nights.
Author: arizonaicerose
Disclaimer: I don’t own it nor do I imply that I do. I am only borrowing the Yami no Matsuei characters and world for my own fun.
Rated: R
Warnings: Sex between two guys, slightly angsty tone to it (sorry- it wrote itself like that)
Prompt: -sex outside - An evening stroll. The beauty of Kyoto. The moon. Autumn or snow
Word Count: 2262
Summary: “If you are going to leave.” Oriya keeps his dark eyes closed tightly as he tries to keep his courage. “Then at least give me a good memory.” The last words fall to a whisper as his eyes slowly open.
A/N: I’m so sorry this one is late! Life got a lil hetic for me and before I knew it I was scrambling to try to get this done. But then I decided to do better quality and have it a day or two late then rush to meet the deadline.
I hope you enjoy!
x-x-x-
“Like hate and love
World's apart
This fatal love was like poison right from the start
Like light and Dark
World's apart
This fatal love was like poison right from the start”
~ ‘October and April’ by- The Rasmus
x-x-x-
The outside air was crisp stinging exposed skin telling of the snow that would soon come. Autumn had come early to Kyoto, leaving the citizens rushing to prepare before the first snow started to fall. Normally the streets were busy, as people rushed along the various stores trying to hurry against Mother Nature. However at this hour the streets were silent, everyone buried deep within their warm comforters, preparing for yet another busy day.
Moonlight laminated their path as two sets off footsteps echoed into the lonely night. Breaths puffed in unison into the cold air as the two old friends silently walked along the beaten sidewalk- their path memorized like the back of their hands.
Muraki had suddenly appeared at the back door of Kou Kaku Rou- much to the delight of the women working there. Oriya, however, felt less overjoyed at the sight of his old friend. His appearance could only mean one of two things. Either he needed help with another task- one that would leave Oriya shuddering at helping with- or he had come to say his final ‘good-bye’ before leaving forever.
Silently the black haired man walked on as he tried to bite back the tears of what he was sure was going to happen. As every second ticked by the hope that his friend needed another human for what ever godforsaken experiment fluttered away. They never walked around the old neighborhood when such deeds were requested.
Oriya had felt his heart skip a beat in fear when Muraki, with that cold, frightening grin had asked him to come walk with him. And now, as the turned the corner walking around an old, crumbling family owned market, Oriya was positive that this was what he often feared.
Muraki was leaving.
Anger courses through Oriya’s veins as he follows silently behind the white clad man. He knows what will happen next, he can feel it in his bones. And every second he fears more. With every breath he only wants to turn and run back home and refuse to talk to Muraki ever again.
Dark eyes slid shut as he breaths in deeply, a deep soul soothing breath, only to breath out just as slowly, his lips pursing as he blew out the figurative stress that was suffocating him. Shoulders sag as he takes another breath, his feet never faltering as he walks on memory, eyes closed tightly.
When he finally opens them again, he feels his heart lighten slightly, though he still wants to scream at the man before him, and he only half wonders how their pace had changed drastically enough to have him stare at his old friend’s back.
The chipped and cracked sidewalk opens up to a run down playground that has defiantly seen better days. At that moment Oriya knows. He just knows what will happen next. And his tightly controlled emotions falter as he walks onto the soft sand to stand near the rusted metal frame.
He stares over the playground, remembering when they were younger. Muraki used to hang from the monkey bars, thin legs barely holding onto the bars as he swung back and forth. Oriya remembered watching him from the swing that he used to sit on while twirling and twisting the thick metal chain.
Oriya wants nothing more then to wake up from this nightmare, it’s slowly spiraling more and more out of control and he does not know how much more he can stand before he breaks. A small fraction of him holds onto the hope that perhaps, just maybe, Muraki really brought him here to relive old times.
However as the silence between the two of them grows he feels the fragile dream shatter, its pieces falling to the sandy ground before him. Shivering at the sudden chill in the air, Oriya feels as if his breath is ripped from him, leaving him naked and defenseless.
Muraki stands at the playground’s entrance mimicking a perfect statue, albeit an occasional breath that puffs into the chilled autumn night. Slowly he pushes up his glasses, only to have them slide back down his nose as soon as his fingers pull away.
Oriya wants him to break the silence, not to stand there staring. It’s his fault they’re standing out here in the cold. Anger courses his veins again as he stumbles to reign it back in, but fails as he feels it start to boil over at the thought of Muraki soiling the only place that had sweet memories of the two of them. How could he do this to him?!
“How!” Oriya cries out as he turns on heel, his eyes narrowing at his friend. “How can you do this to me!” He yells, his voice echoing in the rust and weed choked playground.
Muraki only stands still, watching intently at his long time friend- almost as if he was studying a new lab rat to see what the causes of the new venom was.
“I was always here for you! Always was and always will, and still you do this to me over and over. Why!” Tears are building in his eyes as he tries to understand just how Muraki ticks. He used to not care, but now he wants to know.
“Even when the other children refused to I was here,” his hand waves grandly behind him to gesture to the playground behind him. “I always was here for you day after day. Hour after hour.”
Tears burn at his eyes now, as he tries to keep from crying. He refuses to cry in front of Muraki, that is the one thing that he will not do.
“Even as you gave me those jobs to do, and when I watched you come back bloody to clean up; I still stayed beside you. I helped you, even if I hated myself for it, I wanted to stay with you so I helped you.”
Knees shake as Oriya feels his hands reach out, feet shuffling forward as collapses against the firm chest of his friend. Hands gently and messily fist the white trench coat as he tries to hold onto the last fragment of his dream; perhaps all is not lost.
“Why? Why do you have to do this to me? Just come back with me, we’ll drink and laugh this up.”
“I can’t.”
With those two words the last fragment of his dream flutters away in the breeze leaving Oriya feel naked and exposed to the world. “Why?”
Cold hands, colder then what the chilled weather should have caused, cover his warm ones and in a fluid movement tugs his flimsy grasp on the coat free before leading him backwards to the cold, rusted, metal frame of the swings.
“I was programmed this way. You know that.” Muraki’s voice is emotionless as he talks, almost as if the words are nothing more then that- not an extension of his emotions or what he wants to convey. Nothing more then just words.
“No,” he whispers more to himself then Muraki. “Not true, you’re the kid that loved to hang upside down. That used to sneak out of his house every night to play here under the full moon.”
But even as he says this he knows it’s no longer true. Muraki did change after that horrible day. And Oriya had followed- like an obedient puppy- hoping that he would change back into the boy he had met and fallen in love with at the playground. But that boy was never coming back, no amount of hoping or waiting would make him return.
Cold hands trace his face, cupping his chin to bring dark eyes up to meet silvery blue; Oriya knows what the fingers- the freezing cold hands- are telling him. Though there is no emotion radiating from the cold (almost lifeless eyes) but Oriya still cannot help to loose himself in them. He knows that this is Muraki’s way of saying good-bye. Tears sting at his eyes as he stares at his friend.
He cannot control himself as he latches onto Muraki’s neck, arms wrapping tightly around him. If it was true, if Muraki was really leaving, then Oriya does not want his last memories to be of anger. He wants to have good memories.
Leaning forward, faces inches from each other, he feels his breath hitch. Dark eyes close as he leans forward, head tilting sideways as he presses his lips against Muraki’s. It is a chaste kiss, a simple sweet gesture that makes his heart skip a beat for a second.
Suddenly he feels nails scrapping the back of his head, fingers tangling in his long tresses. A moan falls from his lips as Oriya tries to keep the connection. He’s afraid one second broken and he will wake up alone with a note by his door.
Fingers tangle in the white trench coat as he pulls back for a breath, the fingers in his hair reassure him that- no this is not a dream and yes he is still here.
“If you are going to leave.” Oriya keeps his dark eyes closed tightly as he tries to keep his courage. “Then at least give me a good memory.” The last words fall to a whisper as his eyes slowly open.
Muraki barely blinks, his body rigid and still- as if he’s lost in thought- before he leans closer. “Fine,” he whispers, “if it makes you feel better.”
Oriya can barely keep from laughing, this is not the Muraki he knows. But still he keeps silent knowing that this is better then nothing- even if it does not make complete sense to him right now.
Before he can react- or think anymore- Oriya feels hands at his waist, tugging at his kimono. Teeth worry at his lip as he feels his body acting on its own; his hands are tugging at Muraki’s shirt desperate to open the material.
Soon they are disrobed, shirts hanging off of elbows and pants pushed down to knees and Oriya is again clinging onto Muraki as if he were his only lifeline (in some ways he truly is). Fingers scratch at the wrinkled jacket as he rubs his body against Muraki, his head falling onto the cold metal bar at the sensations that flood him. He barely feels the cold as he focuses only on the man before him.
Chest to chest, lips travel along the porcelain flesh as the two men try to cover every inch that they can touch in feathery light kisses. Teeth bite harshly into Oriya’s neck, hard enough to make the man arch and moan deeply on the metal bar, before a tongue slides over the abused flesh, soothing it.
Reaching down Muraki wraps his hands around their erections; Oriya thrusts into the hand, moaning loudly (he fears a little too loud when he looks back on it later) as pleasure floods his veins. Already he can barely control himself as he wraps a leg around his friend and thrusts again, moaning as he feels his erection sandwiched between Muraki’s erection and his stomach.
As a rhythm is developed Oriya finds his lips, teeth and nails discovering every inch of Muraki’s body; his heart beating wildly as he feels Muraki return the affection. His back arches off of the metal pole as he feels fingers tweak a pert nipple and teeth skim along his shoulder.
Oriya cries out as he wraps a leg around Muraki, pulling the other man closer to his body, moaning as he hugs Muraki tightly, his emotions are swirling around him as he feels his end approaching.
Nails are scratching along his back, his kimono probably ruined as he thrusts, cries becoming louder as he grabs on tightly for Muraki, his head lying against the other man’s. Tears fall from his eyes as he cries out, his essence covering both of their bodies, his arms shaking as he hugs Muraki closer.
Moans are falling from the doctor as he pushes Oriya further onto the pole thrusting harshly. Oriya cries out as he feels his sensitized body react to each touch. With one last thrust Muraki comes, his arms hugging Oriya tightly one last time, his breath ragged as he tries to come back down from the heights that his friend has brought him.
Much too early they are cleaned and dressed again, Oriya feeling colder then what he could ever expect to during this weather. He knows now for sure that Muraki is leaving and he still hates the idea. But at least now, Oriya decides as he walks beside his friend back home, he has some good memories of the night.
The two are alone as they walk back, the streets completely silent except for an occasional train. Dark eyes glance up to the sky as silvery-blue follow.
“Promise me you won’t die at least.” Oriya whispers, afraid of ruining the peaceful silence by talking too loud.
“I cannot promise. But I will not die until I have had my revenge.” Muraki’s voice is as cold as the snow that begins to lightly fall around them.
Oriya snorts as he shakes his head, as if he really expected an different of an answer. Somehow back when he first met Muraki he knew that this man would be the death of him.
And somehow that is perfectly fine for Oriya; he is just happy to have known him for so long. And somehow he knows that Muraki will be fine in the end; nothing can kill the man after all.
x-x-x-
As Oriya stands in his little garden, his private sanctuary, he stares up at the large moon. Today he had played the last role he would ever play with Muraki, by handing over the card keys to the Shinigami. A smirk plays at his mouth as he turns away from the moon.
‘He’s still out there, Oriya muses silently as he grips the handle of his katana again, ready to practice a little more before retiring for the night. He’s still alive and most likely livid that he could not complete his revenge.
Oriya refuses to believe otherwise, his heart will shatter if he does not believe the story that he has created for himself.
Author: arizonaicerose
Disclaimer: I don’t own it nor do I imply that I do. I am only borrowing the Yami no Matsuei characters and world for my own fun.
Rated: R
Warnings: Sex between two guys, slightly angsty tone to it (sorry- it wrote itself like that)
Prompt: -sex outside - An evening stroll. The beauty of Kyoto. The moon. Autumn or snow
Word Count: 2262
Summary: “If you are going to leave.” Oriya keeps his dark eyes closed tightly as he tries to keep his courage. “Then at least give me a good memory.” The last words fall to a whisper as his eyes slowly open.
A/N: I’m so sorry this one is late! Life got a lil hetic for me and before I knew it I was scrambling to try to get this done. But then I decided to do better quality and have it a day or two late then rush to meet the deadline.
I hope you enjoy!
x-x-x-
“Like hate and love
World's apart
This fatal love was like poison right from the start
Like light and Dark
World's apart
This fatal love was like poison right from the start”
~ ‘October and April’ by- The Rasmus
x-x-x-
The outside air was crisp stinging exposed skin telling of the snow that would soon come. Autumn had come early to Kyoto, leaving the citizens rushing to prepare before the first snow started to fall. Normally the streets were busy, as people rushed along the various stores trying to hurry against Mother Nature. However at this hour the streets were silent, everyone buried deep within their warm comforters, preparing for yet another busy day.
Moonlight laminated their path as two sets off footsteps echoed into the lonely night. Breaths puffed in unison into the cold air as the two old friends silently walked along the beaten sidewalk- their path memorized like the back of their hands.
Muraki had suddenly appeared at the back door of Kou Kaku Rou- much to the delight of the women working there. Oriya, however, felt less overjoyed at the sight of his old friend. His appearance could only mean one of two things. Either he needed help with another task- one that would leave Oriya shuddering at helping with- or he had come to say his final ‘good-bye’ before leaving forever.
Silently the black haired man walked on as he tried to bite back the tears of what he was sure was going to happen. As every second ticked by the hope that his friend needed another human for what ever godforsaken experiment fluttered away. They never walked around the old neighborhood when such deeds were requested.
Oriya had felt his heart skip a beat in fear when Muraki, with that cold, frightening grin had asked him to come walk with him. And now, as the turned the corner walking around an old, crumbling family owned market, Oriya was positive that this was what he often feared.
Muraki was leaving.
Anger courses through Oriya’s veins as he follows silently behind the white clad man. He knows what will happen next, he can feel it in his bones. And every second he fears more. With every breath he only wants to turn and run back home and refuse to talk to Muraki ever again.
Dark eyes slid shut as he breaths in deeply, a deep soul soothing breath, only to breath out just as slowly, his lips pursing as he blew out the figurative stress that was suffocating him. Shoulders sag as he takes another breath, his feet never faltering as he walks on memory, eyes closed tightly.
When he finally opens them again, he feels his heart lighten slightly, though he still wants to scream at the man before him, and he only half wonders how their pace had changed drastically enough to have him stare at his old friend’s back.
The chipped and cracked sidewalk opens up to a run down playground that has defiantly seen better days. At that moment Oriya knows. He just knows what will happen next. And his tightly controlled emotions falter as he walks onto the soft sand to stand near the rusted metal frame.
He stares over the playground, remembering when they were younger. Muraki used to hang from the monkey bars, thin legs barely holding onto the bars as he swung back and forth. Oriya remembered watching him from the swing that he used to sit on while twirling and twisting the thick metal chain.
Oriya wants nothing more then to wake up from this nightmare, it’s slowly spiraling more and more out of control and he does not know how much more he can stand before he breaks. A small fraction of him holds onto the hope that perhaps, just maybe, Muraki really brought him here to relive old times.
However as the silence between the two of them grows he feels the fragile dream shatter, its pieces falling to the sandy ground before him. Shivering at the sudden chill in the air, Oriya feels as if his breath is ripped from him, leaving him naked and defenseless.
Muraki stands at the playground’s entrance mimicking a perfect statue, albeit an occasional breath that puffs into the chilled autumn night. Slowly he pushes up his glasses, only to have them slide back down his nose as soon as his fingers pull away.
Oriya wants him to break the silence, not to stand there staring. It’s his fault they’re standing out here in the cold. Anger courses his veins again as he stumbles to reign it back in, but fails as he feels it start to boil over at the thought of Muraki soiling the only place that had sweet memories of the two of them. How could he do this to him?!
“How!” Oriya cries out as he turns on heel, his eyes narrowing at his friend. “How can you do this to me!” He yells, his voice echoing in the rust and weed choked playground.
Muraki only stands still, watching intently at his long time friend- almost as if he was studying a new lab rat to see what the causes of the new venom was.
“I was always here for you! Always was and always will, and still you do this to me over and over. Why!” Tears are building in his eyes as he tries to understand just how Muraki ticks. He used to not care, but now he wants to know.
“Even when the other children refused to I was here,” his hand waves grandly behind him to gesture to the playground behind him. “I always was here for you day after day. Hour after hour.”
Tears burn at his eyes now, as he tries to keep from crying. He refuses to cry in front of Muraki, that is the one thing that he will not do.
“Even as you gave me those jobs to do, and when I watched you come back bloody to clean up; I still stayed beside you. I helped you, even if I hated myself for it, I wanted to stay with you so I helped you.”
Knees shake as Oriya feels his hands reach out, feet shuffling forward as collapses against the firm chest of his friend. Hands gently and messily fist the white trench coat as he tries to hold onto the last fragment of his dream; perhaps all is not lost.
“Why? Why do you have to do this to me? Just come back with me, we’ll drink and laugh this up.”
“I can’t.”
With those two words the last fragment of his dream flutters away in the breeze leaving Oriya feel naked and exposed to the world. “Why?”
Cold hands, colder then what the chilled weather should have caused, cover his warm ones and in a fluid movement tugs his flimsy grasp on the coat free before leading him backwards to the cold, rusted, metal frame of the swings.
“I was programmed this way. You know that.” Muraki’s voice is emotionless as he talks, almost as if the words are nothing more then that- not an extension of his emotions or what he wants to convey. Nothing more then just words.
“No,” he whispers more to himself then Muraki. “Not true, you’re the kid that loved to hang upside down. That used to sneak out of his house every night to play here under the full moon.”
But even as he says this he knows it’s no longer true. Muraki did change after that horrible day. And Oriya had followed- like an obedient puppy- hoping that he would change back into the boy he had met and fallen in love with at the playground. But that boy was never coming back, no amount of hoping or waiting would make him return.
Cold hands trace his face, cupping his chin to bring dark eyes up to meet silvery blue; Oriya knows what the fingers- the freezing cold hands- are telling him. Though there is no emotion radiating from the cold (almost lifeless eyes) but Oriya still cannot help to loose himself in them. He knows that this is Muraki’s way of saying good-bye. Tears sting at his eyes as he stares at his friend.
He cannot control himself as he latches onto Muraki’s neck, arms wrapping tightly around him. If it was true, if Muraki was really leaving, then Oriya does not want his last memories to be of anger. He wants to have good memories.
Leaning forward, faces inches from each other, he feels his breath hitch. Dark eyes close as he leans forward, head tilting sideways as he presses his lips against Muraki’s. It is a chaste kiss, a simple sweet gesture that makes his heart skip a beat for a second.
Suddenly he feels nails scrapping the back of his head, fingers tangling in his long tresses. A moan falls from his lips as Oriya tries to keep the connection. He’s afraid one second broken and he will wake up alone with a note by his door.
Fingers tangle in the white trench coat as he pulls back for a breath, the fingers in his hair reassure him that- no this is not a dream and yes he is still here.
“If you are going to leave.” Oriya keeps his dark eyes closed tightly as he tries to keep his courage. “Then at least give me a good memory.” The last words fall to a whisper as his eyes slowly open.
Muraki barely blinks, his body rigid and still- as if he’s lost in thought- before he leans closer. “Fine,” he whispers, “if it makes you feel better.”
Oriya can barely keep from laughing, this is not the Muraki he knows. But still he keeps silent knowing that this is better then nothing- even if it does not make complete sense to him right now.
Before he can react- or think anymore- Oriya feels hands at his waist, tugging at his kimono. Teeth worry at his lip as he feels his body acting on its own; his hands are tugging at Muraki’s shirt desperate to open the material.
Soon they are disrobed, shirts hanging off of elbows and pants pushed down to knees and Oriya is again clinging onto Muraki as if he were his only lifeline (in some ways he truly is). Fingers scratch at the wrinkled jacket as he rubs his body against Muraki, his head falling onto the cold metal bar at the sensations that flood him. He barely feels the cold as he focuses only on the man before him.
Chest to chest, lips travel along the porcelain flesh as the two men try to cover every inch that they can touch in feathery light kisses. Teeth bite harshly into Oriya’s neck, hard enough to make the man arch and moan deeply on the metal bar, before a tongue slides over the abused flesh, soothing it.
Reaching down Muraki wraps his hands around their erections; Oriya thrusts into the hand, moaning loudly (he fears a little too loud when he looks back on it later) as pleasure floods his veins. Already he can barely control himself as he wraps a leg around his friend and thrusts again, moaning as he feels his erection sandwiched between Muraki’s erection and his stomach.
As a rhythm is developed Oriya finds his lips, teeth and nails discovering every inch of Muraki’s body; his heart beating wildly as he feels Muraki return the affection. His back arches off of the metal pole as he feels fingers tweak a pert nipple and teeth skim along his shoulder.
Oriya cries out as he wraps a leg around Muraki, pulling the other man closer to his body, moaning as he hugs Muraki tightly, his emotions are swirling around him as he feels his end approaching.
Nails are scratching along his back, his kimono probably ruined as he thrusts, cries becoming louder as he grabs on tightly for Muraki, his head lying against the other man’s. Tears fall from his eyes as he cries out, his essence covering both of their bodies, his arms shaking as he hugs Muraki closer.
Moans are falling from the doctor as he pushes Oriya further onto the pole thrusting harshly. Oriya cries out as he feels his sensitized body react to each touch. With one last thrust Muraki comes, his arms hugging Oriya tightly one last time, his breath ragged as he tries to come back down from the heights that his friend has brought him.
Much too early they are cleaned and dressed again, Oriya feeling colder then what he could ever expect to during this weather. He knows now for sure that Muraki is leaving and he still hates the idea. But at least now, Oriya decides as he walks beside his friend back home, he has some good memories of the night.
The two are alone as they walk back, the streets completely silent except for an occasional train. Dark eyes glance up to the sky as silvery-blue follow.
“Promise me you won’t die at least.” Oriya whispers, afraid of ruining the peaceful silence by talking too loud.
“I cannot promise. But I will not die until I have had my revenge.” Muraki’s voice is as cold as the snow that begins to lightly fall around them.
Oriya snorts as he shakes his head, as if he really expected an different of an answer. Somehow back when he first met Muraki he knew that this man would be the death of him.
And somehow that is perfectly fine for Oriya; he is just happy to have known him for so long. And somehow he knows that Muraki will be fine in the end; nothing can kill the man after all.
x-x-x-
As Oriya stands in his little garden, his private sanctuary, he stares up at the large moon. Today he had played the last role he would ever play with Muraki, by handing over the card keys to the Shinigami. A smirk plays at his mouth as he turns away from the moon.
‘He’s still out there, Oriya muses silently as he grips the handle of his katana again, ready to practice a little more before retiring for the night. He’s still alive and most likely livid that he could not complete his revenge.
Oriya refuses to believe otherwise, his heart will shatter if he does not believe the story that he has created for himself.