Ardent

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Yami no Matsuei characters. They belong to Yoko Matsushita.
Notes: I know that it isn’t like Muraki to be so gentle but there is reasoning behind his methods. Tsuzuki will be making an appearance soon so please be patient for his arrival.

Chapter 5: Morning after

Hisoka woke to soft kisses trailing along his neck. Strands of silky silver hair tickled his cheek as he turned his head and was met by a steel gaze.

“Good morning, my love. Did you have pleasant dreams?” Muraki stroked the fair white arms of his bride.

“I-I don’t remember,” Hisoka’s breathing hitched up as Muraki’s hands trailed down to his hips and thighs, languidly stroking them.

“Mmmm,” Muraki kissed Hisoka, using one hand to keep the boy down while the other one brushed against his nether regions. Hisoka drew in a deep breath at this; despite the soreness of his hips and butt, this felt good.

Muraki began stroking the boy’s nether region, reveling in the downy softness of the golden curls that surrounded Hisoka’s cock. Hisoka arched his hips and back and sighed. Muraki chuckled and placed his fingers at Hisoka’s rosebud entrance and gently probed it.

“Please, I’m still sore,” Hisoka moaned, torn between wanting this and fear of the pain it may bring.

“Don’t fret, Angelface,” Muraki cooed. “You were born for this.”

Hisoka’s mind was too hazy to take in what he said. His legs were wrapped around Muraki’s waist and he was pinned down by Muraki’s strong arms. Muraki’s cock rubbed against Hisoka’s entrance, seeking the velvet warmth to hide in.

Hisoka threw his head back as Muraki began thrusting, letting himself get lost in satin and pleasure.

The paint brush stroked the canvas lovingly, always knowing what direction to take. Every little detail of Hisoka on the bed of roses was etched in Muraki’s mind. He was able to remember such things as how Hisoka’s eyes half lidded in lust and how his right leg was slightly bent. Muraki hadn’t bothered with making a sketch first. There was no need since he had a photographic memory.

Muraki left his Angelface at the breakfast table to make some inquiries before he began to paint his masterpiece. The lovemaking had been fantastic, both last night and this morning. Both times, Muraki felt like he was in heaven being buried to the hilt inside the lovely body. The way his cock was massaged by Hisoka’s inner flesh left him rapturous but sated at the same time. In one night he became addicted to Hisoka’s body. There was something special about Hisoka and Muraki decided it needed to be investigated. He already knew everything about Nagare and the Kurosaki lineage but he knew nothing of Hisoka’s mother, Rui. He asked Oriya to look into it. Oriya was not only his most trusted friend but he also had incredible connections that could find out information within hours of starting a search.

Dipping his brush into the paint, Muraki continued on with his painting, enjoying the relaxation of the slow pace.

Hisoka wondered around the castle aimlessly. He was bored and had nothing else to do. He was getting tired of walking, it also doesn’t help that he was so sore from Muraki’s ardent lovemaking. The castle was huge, just like his father’s but there was no fear of getting lost. Muraki’s servants always kept their eyes on him, making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid or get himself into trouble. Actually, Hisoka found it annoying. He wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. There were large French doors up ahead that had beautiful sketches carved into them. Hisoka gazed at them in appreciation before opening the doors. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight before him. Hundreds upon hundreds of books were everywhere. The walls were all lined up with shelves of books and there several tall bookcases packed with the written word. Hisoka felt giddy with excitement. This library rivaled his father’s own. The room itself was stunning, with dark, rich carpeting that covered wall to wall as well as a fireplace that gave the place a cozy feel despite its vastness. Hisoka walked to the first shelf on his right and pulled out a book. He looked at the cover and saw that it was poetry. Hisoka sighed in happiness, he loved poems but then again he loved every kind of writing. Hisoka sat down on a plush lounge chair and began reading.

One of the servants told Muraki that Hisoka was in the library for the past 4 hours. He went in to find that Hisoka had fallen asleep while reading. The book was lying on Hisoka’s chest and moved up and down along with his deep breathing. Muraki picked up the book and saw that it was a volume of Romantic poetry. He sat down on the couch and pulled the boy into his arms, rubbing his nose against the satiny cheek. Emerald eyes blinked open and then Hisoka jumped out of Muraki’s arms.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” Hisoka breathed out.

Muraki laughed. It was always a good that the boy still had some fear of him.

“It’s alright Angelface,” Muraki said. “I’m actually glad that you seem fond of reading.”

Hisoka’s cheeks tinged pink. “Really?”

“Mmmhmm,” Muraki purred, pulling Hisoka back into his arms. The boy sat limply in his lap. Muraki kissed the outer shell of his ear and whispered:

“I send you a cream-white rosebud // With a flush on its petal tips // For the love that is present and sweetest // Has a kiss of desire on the lips.” **

Muraki pulled Hisoka’s face in for a kiss. He hungrily devoured Hisoka’s pillowy lips, tasting the softness and plumpness of the sweet flesh. After pulling away, he saw that Hisoka’s face was flushed and lips kiss swollen. He felt his arousal growing and was tempted to take the boy there and now. No, the bedroom was a better place for what he wanted to do to his wheat haired angel.

“White roses really do suit you,” Muraki said as he stood up, carrying Hisoka bridal style.

The book had fallen to the ground, unnoticed.


**The poem was written by John Boyle O’Reilly.