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Shall We Play?	By : DiamondMask Category: Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei > General Views: 4666 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Descendants of Darkness (Yami no Matsuei), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Title: Shall We Play?

Summary: See chapter one.

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

Warnings: See chapter one.

Chapter Three

Hisoka woke to
the sound of falling rain.

With a sleepy
sigh, he burrowed deeper into the nest of warm sheets wrapped around him, cuddling
his pillow with his eyes still shut. �Tsuzuki�� he murmured drowsily, reaching
out to touch the other shinigami. But when his fingers met nothing but air,
Hisoka opened his eyes.

The bed was
empty.

Propping
himself up on one elbow, Hisoka examined the vacant space with some puzzlement.
Tsuzuki was always there when he woke up, usually wrapped up in all the sheets
or wrapped around the teen. He reached out tentatively to graze his fingers
over the still warm hollow beside him, confused at the crimson colour of the
bedding. Their bed� their sheets were lavender.�

Now thoroughly
perplexed, the young shinigami let his gaze wander around the unfamiliar room,
finally settling on the cup of steaming tea beside the bed. He took a deep
sniff and felt a twinge of affection at the familiar smell of cinnamon. It was
the same way Tsuzuki smelled, sweet and spicy.�

But he frowned,
even the familiar scent not calming his unease. His eyes settled on the strange
antiques scattered around the bedroom, which had a simple and refined elegance.
The heavy velvet drapes allowed only a weak ray of sunlight to peek through and
it smiled upon him, bathing his face with a faint warmth. Where on earth was
he?

More
importantly, where was Tsuzuki?�

Hisoka
straightened on the bed and immediately regretted it. A sharp pain knifed up
his spine and he gasped, instinctively arching his back towards his stomach. He
released his breath, wincing as the ache became little needles that jabbed at
the lower half of his body, spreading from his buttocks.

Clutching one
arm around his belly, he almost fell out of the bed, barely managing to keep
his balance. Hisoka swore, the ache spreading to his wrists and legs. When he
glanced down at them, he was horrified to see dark welts etched in the pale
skin, leering up at him with twisted smiles.

�W-What
happened to me? Where am I?�

A muscle in his
cheek twitched as he struggled to remember the previous night. Had he been with
Tsuzuki, here in this strange place? No, the older shinigami would have been
here when he awoke.

Had he been with
someone else?

No, that was
impossible. He would never betray Tsuzuki.

His fingers
slid into his hair, clutching his head as trickles of memory began to seep into
the forefront of his consciousness. There had been someone� another man.
But who?

He remembered
only silver hair, that rippled like moonlight across disturbed waters.

Hisoka let out
a breath, sitting down with a muffled thump. There had been sex, he was sure of
it. The smell of it was hidden beneath the cinnamon aroma, but he knew it was
there. It taunted his nostrils, openly mocking his shame. And the feel of it
still lingered, still tingled across his flesh and burned his blood.

�But� Tsuzuki��

Tears gathered
in his eyes and his arms crept around his fragile form. �What did I do? Why?�
he whispered to himself, feeling lost as a small child. A drop of wetness fell
onto his arm and he sniffled. His breath coming in shorter, panicked gasps, he
searched desperately for his clothes and found them stacked in a neat pile on a
chair on the opposite side of the bed.

He pulled on
his jeans quickly before slipping the close-fitting green t-shirt over his
head, barely noticing the rich designer material of what was obviously a brand
new item. Shoving his feet into worn sneakers, he pushed himself up from the
bed, shuddering at the thought of what could have happened there.

But he banished
those thoughts firmly. The first thing he had to do was find the man he had
spent the night with, find out what exactly had happened and then get the hell
out to find Tsuzuki. He opened the door as quietly as he could, peering
cautiously out into the silent passage before stepping out of the bedroom.
Hisoka walked slowly through the apartment, quiet dread filling him with every
step.

The only noise
came from the kitchen.

Wetting his
lips, he pushed open the door and froze.

Oh God, no�

�Ah, Hisoka. I
trust you had a good nights sleep?�

Hisoka opened
his mouth but nothing came out. He could only stare helplessly at the man he
had slept with last night.

Muraki smiled,
an amused glint appearing in his eyes. He sipped indifferently at his tea,
draping one arm over the back of his chair as he took no notice of the teens
panic-stricken state. �I was right,� he remarked offhandedly, scrutinizing the
t-shirt that was clinging tightly to his body in all the right places. �That
colour does look particularly good on you. It goes well with your eyes.� The
older man was similarly dressed, in casual black slacks and a designer t-shirt
of the same colour that was as snug as it was expensive.�

Hisoka finally
found his voice. �What� what did you do to me?!�

The doctor
raised a brow, tilting his head back so that his hair swung freely and he
caught the last drop of tea on his outstretched tongue. �We played a game,
Hisoka. I won.� He paused, eyeing the boy thoughtfully. �Would you like a cup
of tea?�

�Screw the
goddamn tea! What the fuck did you do to me?!�

�My, my. I feel
positively ashamed. Was I so bad that you do not even remember me?� he pouted
slightly, then ruined the effect by smirking widely. �Why, Hisoka. I feel so
hurt.�

�What game are
you talking about?� he snapped, balling his hands into fists. �What happened
last night?�

Muraki folded
one leg neatly over the other, cupping his chin pensively in one hand. �Are you
quite sure you would not like a cup?� he asked, gesturing idly to the steaming
pot. �As I recall, cinnamon is your favourite flavour.�

His mouth
twisted. �What did I let you do to me?� he whispered.

The doctor rose
in one fluid motion. �Whatever I wanted,� he purred, licking his lips.

Bile rose in
his throat and he swallowed, nausea hitting his stomach. �Why?�

�Because, I
suppose, deep down part of you wanted it to happen. Otherwise I am as much in
the dark as you, my sweet.�

Hisoka backed
away until his back hit the wall. �No, you fucking liar! I would never
want you!�

He shrugged
nonchalantly. �Then I suppose it was because of your lovely partner.�

His blood ran
cold and it seemed like all the sun was sucked out of the room. �You have
Tsuzuki. The only reason I would� with you� because you have Tsuzuki.� his
voice cracked and he could only watch as the doctor came closer to him.

Muraki smiled,
placing his hands on either side of the boy and leaning close enough to feel
the warm breath escaping his soft lips. �Perhaps.�

�Tell me!� he
hissed, disgust flooding him at the others nearness. �What have you done with
him?�

His hands were
already gliding down the slim hips, tugging at the zipper of the tight jeans.
�He is safe.�

�Then get off
me!� he snapped, shoving the doctor violently away from him. �You sick bastard,
tell me where you have Tsuzuki!�

A colder look
entered his silver eyes and he smirked. �I will gladly tell you� for a price.�

Lip curling in
revulsion, Hisoka shook his head. �No, not again. You� you�� he clutched his
head, pain shooting through his temple. �� lied to me!�

Icy fingers
curled around his arms and Hisoka froze, emerald eyes locked onto silver.
Muraki leaned forward, flicking his tongue across lips parted in a gasp. A
searing heat swept over the teen at the contact and he allowed himself to be
kissed, disgust flooding him.�

A cool hand
brushed sandy hair away from his eyes and Muraki smiled, licking the sweet skin
of his cheek. �Perhaps I did lie. What of it? Do you think it really matters in
this place, to what we are doing?� He bent to suckle the sensitive spot just
below his throat, tongue lapping delicately. �Did you really think, Hisoka,
that I would allow you to escape me after one mere night?� he breathed. �Oh no,
my dear boy, I desire much more than that.��

A tear fell,
green eyes clouded with confusion. �Why am I letting you do this to me?� he
whispered, head bowing in defeat. �I hate you.�

�No, you only
think you do. But you truly want me.�

The spell I
cast last night is the reason you cannot resist me now, he thought privately.
And that, Hisoka, is exactly what I want.�

�Liar� you
fucking liar!� a surge of strength flowed into him and he shoved Muraki
desperately away from him. �I refuse to play your games anymore! I�ll find
Tsuzuki myself!�

But Muraki was
not about to let the teen get away from him and he caught him easily, looping
one arm around his waist. Hisoka screamed his frustration, struggling
frantically in his grip.

�LET ME GO, YOU
GODDAMN PERVERT! LET GO!�

Muraki pinned
him tightly against his chest and caressed his hair with one hand, entangling
cold fingers in the warm mop of sandy locks. �Not until I get what I want,� he
whispered cruelly, pushing Hisoka down so that he was pressed flat against the
surface of the kitchen table. The young shinigami struggled fiercely but the
doctor had the strength of a possessed man.

�Please, let me
go!� he pleaded, rage fading rapidly into blind panic.

With a swift
jerk, his jeans were yanked down his legs and Hisoka squirmed, hearing the
excited pants of the man behind him as Muraki quickly pulled down his own
pants. He wasted no time and before the boy could somehow throw him off, he
impaled him with a rough thrust, grasping his hair in one fist and pulling his
head back as he entered him.�

Hisoka screamed,
long and hard as something inside him tore, pain and pleasure blending into one
torrent of sensations. Muraki gave him no time to adjust to the stiff length
tearing him apart and his blood flowed freely, trickling down his thighs to
pool on the tiled floor.��

�I always get
what I want,� he growled in his ear, one hand slipping around the narrow hips
to grasp the awakening arousal. �And you want this too, Hisoka. Your body
speaks for you.��

Sobs choked his
throat as the doctor continued to pound into him, hard and fast. No, he was
lying, there was no way he could possibly want this! Tears poured down his face
as he felt himself responding to the brutal sex, his erection growing harder
with each thrust that threatened to break him.

Muraki closed
his eyes, relishing the feel of blood lubricating his pride and creating a
delicious friction that went up and down. The delightful sensation prompted him
to go faster and his hand continued to pump Hisoka forcefully. He moaned,
embracing the fire coursing through his blood.

�N-no� stop�
please��

But Muraki
ignored the breathless pleas, ignored the cries of pain. All that mattered was
the tight body he was penetrating over and over again, all that mattered was
his own pleasure.

Then as suddenly
as it had begun, it was over. Hisoka cried out once as the slick cock slammed
into his prostrate, his body going limp and his seed splattered onto the floor.
At the tightening of the muscles around his length, Muraki let out a snarl of
pure animalistic pleasure, burying himself to the hilt as he exploded. Moving
his hips furiously against the sagging body, he emptied himself completely and
pulled out with a gasp. �Hisoka��

The teen fell to
the floor but the doctor made no move to catch him and sank to his own knees,
his bloody cock wilted between his thighs.

Hisoka curled up
into a ball, pain shooting through every inch of him. Oh God, it hurt� it hurt
so much�

�T-Tsuzuki�
h-help me��

At the pitiful
moan, Muraki turned his attention to the pathetic heap lying in his kitchen. He
smiled, gathering the broken boy into his arms and placing a chaste kiss on his
cheek as he sat him on a chair. �You have performed beyond my expectations,
Hisoka.�

Hisoka raised
his head with all the effort he could summon and spat in his face. �Tell me�
tell me where Tsuzuki� is�� he whispered, green eyes burning with fury and
hatred.

Muraki only
smiled mysteriously, wiping the spit off his cheek with an elegant flick of his
wrist. �Do not fret, little kitten. You will find him soon enough.�

The young
shinigami sat motionless, blood stained jeans lying around his ankles. Muraki
paused, cupping his flushed cheek in one hand. �You may leave, if that is your
wish. Otherwise, you may want to clean yourself before returning to the
Ministry. The bathroom is back the way you came, third door to your left.�

But as the
doctor turned to leave, Hisoka spoke, in a voice filled with dangerous intent.

�I am going to
kill you. Maybe not here, maybe not now, but I swear I will. And I will make
you beg like a wretched dog before you pass into Hell!�

Muraki turned to
look at the teen, who sat with his head bowed. �Then I will await that day with
bated breath. But until then, Hisoka, know only this: I have a claim over you.
And not even Mr. Tsuzuki can remove the mark you now bear.�

�What do you
mean? What did you do to me?�

�You will see
soon enough,� he promised, walking away slowly from Hisoka. �Oh, and Hisoka?�

He looked up,
angry tears gathering in his radiant green eyes.

�Keep the
t-shirt. After all, I did purchase it for you. Think of it as� a parting gift.�

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

People must have
thought him mad. Running through the pouring rain like Satan himself pursued
him, clothes and hair all soaking wet.�

But in all honesty, Hisoka barely noticed
nor cared for that matter.

His only thought was of Tsuzuki.

With every step,
jagged pain lanced through him and he was bleeding quite badly. The dried blood
was sticking the denim of his jeans to his delicate skin and each movement was
agony. But he had to reach the Ministry, he had to know if Tsuzuki was there.

As he ran
through streets clogged with rain, he decided that he could not bear to tell
the shinigami what had happened last night. The truth would only hurt him more.
No, Tsuzuki could never find out.

But, he reflected
ruefully, he would have a difficult time explaining his dishevelled and bloody
appearance. However, it would be infinitely more difficult to stop Tsuzuki from
trying to kill Muraki. As much as the madman deserved to die, Tsuzuki would
only get hurt in the process. And Hisoka would never let that happen.

If anyone was to
kill Muraki, it would be him.

To be
continued

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Shall We Play?

Chapter Three