Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Summer Equinox ❯ Summer Equinox ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Summer Equinox

Anime: Yami no Matsuei

Paring: Muraki/Tsuzuki

Warnings: Yaoi (duh!), Lemon and all that goes with it, angst

 

A/N: I give up. This is the plot bunny that won't die, so I'll let it run as long as it will. So this is the third installment of the newly dubbed “Just One Night” series.

 

I am also opening an LJ just for my various fics: http://jailaheyn-fics.livejournal.com/. I will be up loading all of my older fics on here first (with the exception of this one, of course) in order to make way for more installments of Just One Night and another multi-chapter I'm working on for Haru Wo Daite Ita.

 

As always, enjoy!

 

 

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“Oriya-sama?”

 

“Yes, Mitsabi?” Oriya didn't bother to look up from the pond as his head hostess approached him, telephone headset in hand.

 

“This caller insists on speaking with you.”

 

He continued to watch the koi swim lazily around the pool. “Mitsabi, I've entrusted you to handle all of my calls. Take a message if they wish to speak with me that badly.” The older woman was once a prized member of the Kokakuro stable of beauties. Now in her mid-40s, she now worked as Oriya's second in command. She had been fielding his calls and taking care of the day to day business for the past four months. Ever since those three Shinigami came to his restaurant and left with the keys to his best friend's demise, Oriya hadn't the desire to deal with it.

 

“But this caller...”

 

“Take a message, damn it!” he snapped, this time turning to glare at the woman. The hostess, used to his recent occasional outbursts, quietly pressed a button on the headset, raising the speaker volume to maximum.

 

“That's a shame, Oriya. I would like to speak with you. Is that how to treat an old friend?” The caller's voice was unmistakable, deep and as sweet as poisoned honey. It was a voice Oriya longed to hear.

 

“Muraki!” Oriya lunged for the phone, snatching it from Mitsabi's hand. She quickly retreated to the building, bowing and smirking at her master's sudden burst of energy. “This had better not be some trick. Is this really you?”

 

“As real as one can get from the telephone.” Muraki boomed into Oriya's ear before the brunette turned the volume back down to normal. “You were quite mean to Mitsabi-chan. You didn't miss me that much, did you? Did you shed a tear or two for me?”

 

Any doubts Oriya had about the caller's identity disappeared with that sentence. Calming down considerably, he sat back down on the rocks surrounding the pond. There was so much he wanted to know, but knowing the doctor as well as he did, he knew that he always played things close to his chest. He would just have to wait until Muraki felt like opening up, a fact that always irritated him.

 

“Of course I missed you,” he said. “You're my friend and you made it very clear that you were never returning the last time I saw you. I assume from the fire in the laboratory, you were not successful in your revenge?”

 

“Well, I wasn't expecting my perfect doll to regain his senses after I broke him. I got a pile of ashes and a knife to the side for all of my efforts and nearly joined my brother in hell at the same time.”

 

Oriya wasn't all that surprised. This was Muraki's most elaborate scheme, one that could have only ended in its success or his death.

 

“So how are you still alive?”

 

Muraki's chuckle filled his ear. “To steal a phrase from an fallen angel, I wasn't meant to die. There are bigger things planned.”

 

“I don't believe that for a minute. You had some sort of Plan B, I know you did. What was it, and why couldn't you tell me of it?”

 

“So many questions. I will answer them for the simple price of your company and a fresh grilled red snapper. I've been dying for both lately.”

 

Groaning at the doctor's pun, Oriya wished for something large and heavy to beat him with. He was sure he could hurt him through the headset if he pounded it hard enough. “And you'll answer all of my questions?”

 

“I'll answer all that need to be answered...”

 

“Dammit, Muraki!” he snapped. Twice in less than half an hour, that had to be a new record. This wasn't the time for teasing like some damn Cheshire Cat.

 

“I'll be there shortly. I have to wrap up a few things here first. You do remember which private room I prefer? See you then.” A click signaled the end of the call before Oriya could form a response. He stared at the headset for a moment, both annoyed and relived. Muraki was alive.

 

“Mitsabi!” he called into the restaurant, knowing she was nearby, probably still snickering into her kimono. “Prepare the Ume room. We have a special quest arriving soon, and you know how much he hates to wait.”

 

 

 

 

Muraki slipped his cell back into his suit jacket pocket.

 

“I'm sorry, but we'll have to cut this short. I have dinner plans with an old friend. I hope you don't mind.”

 

Purple eyes glared at him for a moment before fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure hit him. Muraki smirked and brushed chocolate brown bangs from a flushed sweaty brow, drawing a low, loud groan.

 

“Is is getting too much for you?” he whispered, barely touching his lips to the exposed forehead. “I'd love to see if your endurance can last longer than this. Perhaps next time.”

 

Before him, Tsuzuki was kneeling on the same bed where Muraki first took him. Magical bindings around his ankles and wrists keep him in that position, knees apart, fully exposed. He was kept on the edge of release by a constant moving fullness deep within his passage. It was another spell, giving him the illusion of being taken while heightening his skin's sensitivity to touch.

 

“It's one of my favorite spells,” Muraki commented when the enchantment first took effect. “It was originally designed to transmit pain, but I think my modifications are far better suited for this situation. What do you think?” He ghosted his fingers up an exposed thigh, millimeters from touching actual skin.

 

Tsuzuki arched forward, crying out in surprise at how real that touch felt. “Why are you doing this?” he gasped. As much as he hated to admit it, he sought out Muraki to slake his thirst for the older man's touch once again. Not only had Muraki barely laid a finger on him, he also didn't remove any of his own clothes, leaving Tsuzuki the only one in the room nude.

 

“I adore the way you look when you're mindless with passion, but I'm usually too distracted with my own to fully enjoy it. This way I can observe you in all your beauty.”

 

That was nearly an hour ago, and now Tsuzuki was incoherent, gasping and moaning constantly as the phantom hardness twisted and slid inside of him. Muraki sat at the foot of the bed either watching him or occasionally drawing a hand over Tsuzuki's skin, reveling in his cries. No matter how much Tsuzuki pleaded, the silver haired man refused to touch him or even take him properly. Muraki even increased the speed of the illusion's thrusts during his phone call, causing Tsuzuki to pitch forward until his face was pressed against the mattress. His hips moved on their own, thrusting back while he used the soft blanket beneath him to muffle his moans. He couldn't let anyone know he was there, no matter who was on the other line.

 

“Such an indecent position, Asato, and so very tempting. You make me wish I set my dinner date for tomorrow so I could spend more time savoring this sight.”

 

Grabbing Tsuzuki by the waist, Muraki pulled the man back to a sitting position. Such a direct touch made Tsuzuki howl as it inflamed him to point of pain even after Muraki let him go.

 

As soon as he quieted down, Muraki panted into his ear. “Stay just like this. Touch yourself for me and let me see you bring yourself off.”

 

“But...” Tsuzuki whispered, his voice nearly hoarse. He wanted Muraki to touch him again. He wanted to feel those cold hands on his flesh. He craved the thought of being taken. It was those desires that kept him coming back into the arms of his sworn enemy several times now. Every time he was certain he had Muraki completely out of his system, the desire crept up and took over.

 

It was all addicting, intoxicating, and degrading. It was degrading to want something so wrong, to want to do anything to have it. His hands were released from their bindings and automatically moved to his groin. One hand began to frantically pump the length of his shaft while the other caressed the twin sacks below. He was so very close already...

 

Muraki continued his verbal seduction. “So lovely and wanton. Do you do this often? Are you thinking of me when you do? Are you thinking of me right now?” He traced the shell of Tsuzuki's ear with tongue, groaning his approval. “You won't last long, will you?”

 

Tsuzuki had been right at the edge for a while now, but there was something holding him back, keeping his orgasm at bay. He stroked himself faster, but to no avail.

 

Watching Tsuzuki bend and arch and writhe stirred Muraki even more than the tortured whimpers clawing up from his throat. The temptation to take his pretty doll was becoming too strong to resist.

 

And it would be rude to be late to dinner.

 

“You've been most entertaining tonight. Say my name and come for me.”

 

Almost at his command Tsuzuki whimpered his name, his voice breaking into a cry of satisfaction as the block that kept him from completing shattered. He threw his head back and continued pumping until the hot white rush of his essence subsided. All the while Muraki watched with his usual calm detachment, observing.

 

Along with the binding and sense enhancement spells, he also subtly casted something that would keep Tsuzuki aroused but unable to orgasm. He'd done this a few times before and it seemed obvious that Tsuzuki never made notice of it.

 

Perfect. He was well on his way to conditioning Tsuzuki. By conquering the body now slumped and heaving before him, the mind would easily follow. Muraki wanted Tsuzuki to become dependent upon his acceptance. It was simple enough to reveal the Shinigami's insecurities. Tonight was an experiment in exploiting them. He looked forward to seeing the reaction to not giving Tsuzuki the direct attention he craved this one night. What would he do to get that back? Just how desperate had he become in the past several months?

 

Once that was determined, it would be time to raise the stakes.

 

“The only thing missing to make this work of art perfect is my own release mingling with yours.”

 

Tsuzuki slowly turned his head away from the doctor's disgusting words. All of the enchantments were gone, leaving him drained, tired, but feeling a deep sense of loss. Muraki usually couldn't keep his pale hands off him. Part of him wondered what was different tonight, what had changed between them. Another part hoped that this was a sign that the doctor was nearly done with him. He didn't know if he had the strength to end this himself anymore. The guilt that followed these sessions became so unbearable at times, and it looked like it was becoming another one of those times.

 

“I...” He stammered around the choking knot in his throat. He would not cry, not in front of Muraki. The bastard didn't deserve the satisfaction that he warranted that much emotion.

 

In an unperturbed, almost bored voice, Muraki replied, “I know, you hate me. You despise me. I'm sick and disgusting. But you enjoy every last degrading minute of it, don't you, my fallen angel?” He leaned in to kiss his cheek tenderly. “Until next time.”

 

Tsuzuki managed to keep the tears from spilling until he was sure Muraki had long left the bedroom.

 

The bastard didn't deserve the satisfaction of knowing he was right either.

 

 

 

It took more than an hour before Tsuzuki made back to his own home. Even those he physically wasn't penetrated, he still felt like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet. He fumbled for the key to his apartment and was very surprised to find that his door was already unlocked.

 

I remembered to lock it before I left, didn't I? He thought. Surely he couldn't have been that absent-minded in his rush to get out the door earlier this evening.

 

Preparing a ofuda just in case this was some sort of trap, he pushed the door open and carefully stepped in. It was just as quiet as he left it. Nothing creepy behind the front door. Nothing strange in the kitchen, the living room or the balcony. He probably just forgot to lock his door, and he relaxed at the thought. Peeling off his coat and tie, he made his way into the bedroom. A shower could wait until the morning. He'd gotten used to carrying the dried rose scent that always followed Muraki that it didn't bother him anymore. He was too exhausted right now.

 

“Had a good time?” a voice called to him as he entered the bedroom. Spinning quickly, Tsuzuki's violet eyes met with Hisoka's accusing green ones. The boy was standing just behind the bedroom door, glaring at him with all the hate he could muster.

 

“Hi-Hisoka? What are you doing here? And what are you talking about? I just went out for a few drinks.” That was the excuse he usually gave whenever he went to answer the call of his desires. He didn't remember ever giving Hisoka a key to his apartment, so what was he doing here?

 

“Don't lie to me,” Hisoka replied quietly with barely concealed fury. “I know where you go. I've always known. You went to see him again, didn't you?”

 

Shock weakened Tsuzuki's knees and he slumped onto his bed. “Who are you talking about?”

 

“I'm talking about Muraki, dammit!” Stepping closer to Tsuzuki, he took a deep breath. “I remember that scent. It haunts my dreams. And here you are, wallowing in it! I thought that first time was it, I thought you weren't willing. I thought you would then feel the same pain I did, but you apparently didn't. You keep going back, and lying to me about it each time. I thought we were partners!”

 

“I'm sorry, Hisoka. I wish I could explain...”

 

“Explain what? How you betrayed me? How you betrayed the rest of JuOhChoOh? You're sleeping with the enemy, and who knows how much information you've probably told him.”

 

The accusation angered Tsuzuki enough to stand on steadier feet. “I've never betrayed you or anyone, not even once!” he barked.

 

Tatsumi interrupted the argument by stepping into the bedroom proper, with Watari close behind him. “We can't be too sure of that. You know what Muraki is capable of. He could have pulled anything he wanted from your mind while you were...intimate.” That last word was spoken between clenched teeth. “I'm sorry, but this is for your own good.”

 

That was all the warning Tsuzuki was given before his own shadow leaped up, wrapping itself around him and holding him immobile from below his nose to his feet. Unable to speak, he could only look at his friends various looks of disbelief, sadness, anger and betrayal. The betrayal in Hisoka's eyes hurt him the most. He deserved this and more for what he'd done.

 

Watari approached him with a prepared needle filled with a swirling green liquid. His voice was forced steadiness. “In order to keep Muraki for exerting any influence on you while you're in custody, we'll have to put you in a state of suspended animation. Please don't fight this.”

 

Lowering his head, he accepted the prick in his neck. It had been long enough. Time to pay for his crime.

 

-------

 

Tsuzuki sat straight up in his bed. His sheets were soaked with his own sweat and he looked frantically about his room for any shadows, needles, or acccusing green eyes. The dream was so real, driven by the same guilt that he felt after being with Muraki. Looking at the alarm, he noticed that he had three hours before he had to be awake for work. Sleep wouldn't come back so easily. Perhaps a shower was in order.

 

Rising from the tangled mess of sheets, he made the same promise that he always did during moments like these. He'd never tell anyone. He'd make sure that no one would ever find out. He'd like to promise that he'd never return to Muraki's bed again, but he knew by now that it was impossible.

 

He was addicted.