So Cold

Fic Title: So Cold

Fic Rating: R

Fandom: Yami no Matsuei

Pairing: Tatsumi X Muraki

Word Count: 2,698

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It was the creaking that had first woken him, crawling over the walls and ceiling, causing the old wooden cabin to groan as if under an unimaginable strain. He had watched as the sound scratched its way about the ceiling, as if someone was walking above them, passing back and forth. There was no second floor.

Tsuzuki swallowed, his eyes slowly sinking to the frosty window. Everything outside was painfully white, a biting wind throwing blinding snow across the barren land in thick heavy sheets. The house creaked and groaned as if something was walking across the walls, and he found himself fallowing the sound, his gaze drifting until it landed on the ceiling above him. He felt as if pushed into the too-soft mattress below him, and wished there was somewhere else to go in the tiny one room cabin that was there only refuge from the snow. Unable to stare at the empty space above his bed anymore, he looked sharply to the side, eyes falling to the small body curled into a ball beside him. Usually, there would have been three… but Tatsumi had been leaving at night, to search for help, as it was becoming apparent that none was coming on its own.

Tsuzuki’s eyes narrowed the smallest bit as he watched the back of Hisoka’s head, starring for a long collection of moments. He reached out with a shaking hand, running his fingers briefly through his hair, ignoring the boy’s sleepy wince. Drawing his hand back he could only stare and the single, platinum blonde strand that coiled around his fingers. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes tightly, trying not to imagine how it appeared as if the strand had fallen from the ceiling. He rose suddenly, footsteps clattering across the floor as he hurried to the table across the room, and fiddled with the dial on the radio. He couldn’t stand the silence (the creaking) anymore. At first there was nothing, then the gentle murmuring and crackling of static… and then a song began to bleed in segments from the speakers, until the static burned itself out and the words began to buzz through.


You're so cold
Keep your hand in mine
Wise men wonder while
Strong men die

The music rained down from the floorboard above them, strands of crackling sound falling with the dust Tsuzuki’s shoes cast upon them. Tatsumi looked up, specks of dust landing on his glasses, as he watched Tsuzuki’s shadow move across the floor.

“Is that the best you can do?” he looked back down, pushing his glasses up his nose, standing under the stripes of dim blue light. He should have been miles away, in the snow, seeking for a spot that would give his dying cell phone just a few moments of an unbroken signal… but instead he was hiding under the floor boards.

No. Not hiding. He was guarding someone… something.

“These really are quite ingenious…” the second male had ignored the question, instead tugging at his restraints, struggling with the awkward angel at which his arms were held above his head. A chilling smile touched his lips. “Just what did you make them out of?”

“Spider webs, among other things I won’t tell you.” Tatsumi regarded Muraki, his prey, his captured evil angel.

“Brilliant, I had been working with a similar concept you see…”

“Shut up,” Tatsumi hissed, the shadows all around him stirring uncomfortably.

Muraki could only smile, a cruel teasing sort of smile that gave Tatsumi the feeling that Muraki knew something he didn’t.

“No one is coming, and I’m sure you know it,” he chuckled softly, sharp silver eyes glittering like broken glass, “Honestly I don’t know why you waste your time down here with me…”

“You’re not going to get away,” Tatsumi stepped forward, his cobalt eyes hard and unyielding. “I’ll make sure of it. And once someone finds us in this place… you’ll be through. You won’t be able to hurt Tsuzuki anymore.” He finished solidly, proving to himself he was justified in all his lies. He knew Tsuzuki would be upset if he found out who was so damn close, he knew how those amethyst eyes would sharpen, and the door would fling open and the other two would be out into the snow…

So for now, Tatsumi kept it a secret… and they would thank him for it, yes they would… at a later date.

Muraki laughed, eyes full of sharp amusement, voice teasing and taunting and just daring Tatsumi to do something about it.

“But Tatsumi, I’m already hurting them, and you’re letting me.”

Muraki never winced, but in fact placidly closed his eyes as Tatsumi stepped up to him, wound his hands through his hair and pulled violently. The cold of Muraki’s body always bothered him, falling off him in sheets, as if he had never at any point in his life been warm. His hands were bound above his head in silver strings, his chest and legs bound to the cool cellar wall behind him with the same, and every time he moved, the threads would bite into him like razor wire. It amazed Tatsumi how still he could be, as not a drop of red had tarnished this white, dirty thing.

He pulled Muraki’s hair hard, watching his face for any signs of pain, but his expression remained placid, his lips parting the slightest bit as he breathed out. Tatsumi scowled, glaring at his shut eyes, stepping back and slapping Muraki hard across the face. The man’s head snapped to the side, his glasses falling from his face and shattering on the cold, damp stone floor. The shards fell with the dust, glimmering like tiny broken stars as they fell between the dim shafts of light.

“My, my…” Muraki slowly lifted his head; his eyes open into sharp silver slits, that same damn smile on his face as a light touch of pink whispered across his cheek. “Temper, temper Tatsumi…” he chuckled, the sound seeming to settle the dust.

The cerulean eyed male glared sharply, tilting his head down the smallest bit, a shaft of light catching his glasses and masking his eyes with an eerie white sheen.

“Stop it,” he hissed.

“Stop what?” Muraki said with his own personal version of innocents woven into his voice.

“Stop whatever it is you are doing to hurt them,” he growled, the shadows darkening between the thinning shafts of light.

“But Tatsumi, you’re the one keeping me here, wouldn’t that make it your fault?”

And as they always did, Muraki’s eyes shut as Tatsumi hit him, sending his head snapping to the side. Silver threads fell over his eyes as his lips curved into a deranged smile, and the softest of laughs left his lips.

“On second thought, I do know why you spend all your time down here with me…”

Tatsumi felt an uncomfortable biting in the center of his stomach, and hit Muraki again, harder, watching as his head snapped in the other direction.

“Shut you’re mouth.”

“I think you like wasting away the nights down here…”

And Tatsumi hit him harder.

“Because you know no one is coming…”

And harder.

“… and you’ll be left here alone…”

Harder.

“And you like taking it out on me.” Muraki smiled a cruel painful smile as a thread of red traced down from his lips, from under his hair. Tatsumi grabbed him by the collar of his white jacket, pulling him forward, watching as the restraints cut into his skin like butter. Dark dirty red crept along the threads, beading, and dripping down like syrup.

“Poor Tatsumi…” Muraki said, purred, watching his eyes. “You just cant-” but he stopped, inhaling as Tatsumi pulled him forward a little more.

“Cant what?” he said, standing so close now, that he knew what Muraki was going to say.

“… Can’t stop yourself.”

“… You’re right.”

You're so cold
Keep your hand in mine
Wise men wonder while
Strong men die

Tatsumi was only aware of the persistent tugging of Muraki’s lungs, pushing the air in and out if him faster then he would have liked. The cool air passed those pale lips in small puffs of silver, hanging in the air like ghosts before vanishing to nothing. Muraki’s head was tilted back, pulled back by Tatsumi’s hand to bare his white throat. He couldn’t laugh anymore… not when he was so short of breath. Had he been anyone else, he would have been cold, wearing only scraps of fabric and bloody spider-wire, but Muraki never got cold.

His lips parted and a long hiss drew from them on a swirl of silver air, as teeth sunk down into his throat. Tatsumi pressed the skin between his teeth, forcing white skin to become red, while his hands wove through Muraki’s tarnished silver hair, keeping his head tilted back, keeping his throat bared. Those eyes that were always shut to endure pain were creased, just faintly, eye brows knitted up and fingers grasping the nothing in the air.

Tatsumi lifted his head from the space between Muraki’s neck and shoulder, taking a moment to watch the throbbing red mark on his porcelain-pale skin. He waited, listening, but didn’t hear that fluttering, maddening laugh that would often come from Muraki’s lips. Something like, but not really, a smile, touched Tatsumi’s lips, and he licked almost gently at the bite.

Muraki shivered, fingers curling into fists as he pulled against the hands in his hair, hissing softly as the pain bit into his head. His chest rose and sunk with his shallow, rapid breaths, his eyes opening the smallest crack to watch what was happening to him.

Tatsumi slowly lowered himself, his warm mouth hovering Muraki’s chest, when suddenly he became aware of eyes on him. He paused, looking up, unable to stand that knowing, smug expression on Muraki’s face. He stood straight, stiff, and from his pocket pulled a long, black silken scarf. He was particularly careful of the other’s silver hair as he tied over his eyes.

“I don’t know why you bother,” Muraki said, as if perhaps they were sitting in a tea shop somewhere talking about something trivial.

“… Bother with what?”

“Being gentle… I know you don’t like it.”

Tatsumi drew his hand back to himself, slowly, as if they had been doused with cold water.

“Besides,” Muraki began again, a sharp sort of smile on his lips, “I much prefer when you’re not.”

Show me how it ends it's alright
Show me how defenseless you really are
satisfied and empty inside
That's alright, let's give this another try

When Tatsumi had reached down to tare the spider-wire binding Muraki’s legs, it stuck and clung to his fingers, stretching between his digits like webbing. Strips of ripped fabric fluttered to the floor like bloody white butterflies. As Tatsumi leaned close, lifting Muraki’s legs and leaving only his bindings to support him, he became very aware of the other’s ragged breathing in his ear.

“You’ve… never done it quite like this before, have you?” There was something like kindness in Tatsumi’s voice, something similar only a few shades darker.

“I don’t need your consideration,” Muraki hissed, glaring into the blackness tied across his eyes. “Just do it.”

Tatsumi remained still, one hand bracing Muraki’s legs over his shoulders, while the other undid the clasp of his own belt.

“Tatsumi…”

The black leather clattered to the floor like a dead snake skin.

“Tatsumi…” Muraki’s voice became the slightest bit more agitated as he struggled to keep his legs hooked over the other man’s shoulders, his body curved into an awkward ‘u’ as the restraints bit painfully into his arms, his wrists. He couldn’t help but pant, but hiss and squirm and shiver as the hot needles of pain made his arms shake.

Tatsumi carefully slid his dull brown pants down to his knees, and next his boxers, shivering a little as the cold licked up his bare skin.

“How can you stand it?” he asked in a too-soft voice.

“Stand what?” Muraki said through clenched teeth.

“The cold down here…”

“Stop it.”

“… Stop what?” The smile seeped into Tatsumi’s voice.

“Stop… teasing me.”

You're so cold, but you feel alive
Lay your hand on me one last time

“Is that like saying please?” and it was then that Muraki realized there was something commanding to such a soft voice.

“Nothing I do is ever like saying please,” he answered, head falling to the side; although it didn’t matter anyway… for all he could see was black. Tatsumi took a few moments to look at Muraki, all wound up in silver spider-wire, thin red lacerations over his white skin, striking eyes hidden behind black silk and sweat dampened hair. “… T… Tatsumi…”

“You just contradicted yourself,” Tatsumi whispered into his ear, pausing to lick along the shell. Muraki gave the smallest gasp and Tatsumi caught his parted lips in a soft and gentle kiss. Muraki tensed, pressing his eyes shut, his own nails biting into the palms of his hands. His heart beat relentlessly in his chest, his nerves burring at the contact that was all too stunning.

He hardly made a sound as Tatsumi pushed into him. Muraki pressed his eyes shut and grinded his teeth, and after a moment, slowly tilted his head back and gave a long, silky moan.

Tatsumi shivered, his nails biting into Muraki’s hips as he held onto him so tightly. His own breath was suddenly ragged, and he remained still long enough to draw in a few strained lungfuls of air. Then, straining against the tight muscle gripping him, he pulled himself out, just to the tip, and snapped his hips forward.

Muraki panted loud against Tatsumi’s ear, back arching like an elegant bow as the air rushed back and forth passed his lips. He needed to speak, to say something, but there was no god for him to cry out to and he was done pleading Tatsumi’s name.

“Shhhh…” Tatsumi purred, continuing to draw himself out of Muraki painfully slow before snapping his hips forward again, growling a little every time. “Do you want them to hear us?”

And the slow, cruel smile was back on Muraki’s face. Slowly his voice began to grow louder, moans bleeding past his lips, sharp cries each time Tatsumi pushed back inside him.

“Muraki, quiet…” Tatsumi hissed, panting as his thrusts became faster, more and more uneven. Muraki’s spine arched against the stone wall, his head tilting back as a loud pleasured cry poured from his lips.

Dust trickled down from the above floor boards.

Tatsumi watched with an odd sense of calm in his eyes, one that Muraki could not see, and could not feel in the tense rippling of his body. Not when his breath was becoming shorter, his thrusts more needy.

Muraki’s throat was becoming raw, his ears ringing with the sound of his own voice.

“Why… why aren’t they coming…?” he panted, his head falling against his chest, as if he meant to look Tatsumi in the eyes, but could not.

“… They’re not up there, anymore.” Tatsumi whispered, his voice a shaking breathless mess, before quite suddenly a bright searing white flashed over his eyes, and all his nerves began to burn.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

“Tsuzuki? Tsuzuki! There you are!” cheered Watari’s voice, as his eyes lit up and he dropped whatever it was he had been working on, to scamper down the hall and throw his arms around the other male. “Oh Tsuzuki! You’re back! And Hisoka too!” The green eyed boy stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest and gaze thrown to the floor.

Watari looked about them curiously, taking in their ratty states, and the absence of someone else he had expected to return.

“Where is Tatsumi?” Tsuzuki’s eyes became instantly dark. He pushed past Watari rather violently before storming down the hall, and disappearing through a doorway.

Watari looked at Hisoka curiously, a faint bit of hurt in his expression.

“Hisoka? What’s the matter?”

Hisoka looked up, sharp emerald eyes also holding flecks, shadows of hurt.

“Tatsumi was doing something he wasn’t supposed to…”

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