Hatred\'s Gentlemen

Clouds slithered around the blood moon, hiding the pale figure that approached its prey.

A bitter wind swept through the alley and scattered the paperwork of its lone occupant. Energy-laden symbols burned through the papers and rained ash on Tatsumi. He adjusted his glasses and froze when a hand grabbed his shoulder. Without warning he was pushed roughly against the alley wall. He struggled against his attacker, the effort draining him more so than normal. With every flex of muscle he felt his strength wane and when he pooled his energy for attack, his vision blackened. He felt his world fade and he sagged into his attacker’s arms like a rag doll.

“All too easy,” Muraki smirked. He kicked in a door of the nearest building and rested Tatsumi on a moldy mattress with springs sticking out of the fabric. He stepped away from the mattress and carefully removed his coat. Delicate fingers loosened the buttons of his shirt and he deftly unzipped his pants.

He moved back over Tatsumi and ripped away the man’s jacket, tearing at his shirt in the process. His fingernails clawed into skin and he took delight in the blood that beaded on Tatsumi’s skin. He pressed his lips onto Tatsumi’s chest and traced bloody patterns with his tongue. He pulled down the pants, exposing the man before he slapped his face.

Tatsumi jerked awake and swung out his arm, wincing as it was caught and shoved down onto the mattress. “You?!”

Muraki laughed and easily flipped the man onto his stomach. “Have you guessed why I’m able to overpower you?”

“Bastard!”

“I shall tell you, but only because I enjoy the taste of hatred,” Muraki said. “I have placed a little spell on you. Every time you struggle, you lose your strength. If you wish to regain your strength, you must cease to fight and give in to me.”

Tatsumi bucked against him and sagged onto the mattress, refusing to believe what the madman told him. In all his research, he’d never heard of such a spell. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know that you have been close to Tsuzuki,” he said, “and that you watch him sometimes from the shadows without his knowing.” He stabbed a finger into Tatsumi and grinned as he writhed, “It has been a while since you’ve been with him. However, I want to taste what he tasted, feel what he felt. I shall bide my time killing his body, but by doing this to you - I will kill his soul. He will understand the pain you felt when working with him. And you will understand his pain full circle, instead of running away and hiding in the shadows.”

Muraki thrust forward and frowned at the tightened muscle. He grabbed onto the other man’s hips and pushed, relishing the man’s cries. His energy latched onto the anguish and he felt skin tear. Blood seeped onto his skin and he felt revitalized with every plunge. Hatred rose from his form and manifested in a dark fire of energy that embraced their pain.

Tatsumi screamed and clutched the mattress, willing himself not to fight Muraki. The more he fought, the more he would be his puppet. He hated Muraki for doing this, he hated being helpless, and he hated Tsuzuki for allowing him to leave.

Muraki smiled darkly as he felt Tatsumi’s muscles still. The combined hatred was intoxicating. “That’s it.” He reached his hand around Tatsumi’s hips and grabbed a handful of flesh, massaging it within his palm, until he squeezed. For several minutes he stayed within Tatsumi, twisting every so often within him and holding fast to his release.

He heard Tatsumi moan and leaned forward to whisper, “If you release your hatred for him. I will let you feel more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Surrender your hatred to me. I’ve wanted it for so long. Give it to me, shadow master.”

Tatsumi growled and pressed back into him, primal energy taking control. “I hate him. I hate you. I hate them all!”

“There’s a good boy,” Muraki said, coaxing him along. With every roll of his hips he met Tatsumi’s shadowed aura of rage, which grinded against his thighs in desperate cooperation.

Muraki gave one final thrust and released, holding tight to Tatsumi’s cock.

After they had lain still for several minutes, both having gone soft; Muraki went to rise and Tatsumi rolled onto him. He had regained his strength and rather than kill the man, he was going to get what he wanted.

“Are you going to release your anger?”

Tatsumi didn’t answer as he pushed into Muraki, ignoring the way Muraki spread his legs and held fast onto him – as if he expected this reaction. At the moment Tatsumi didn’t care. His body drove into Muraki and he let the energy take over with a string of curses. The restrictions he had dealt with these many years rolled off him like steam and he let loose his sanity in a fog of pleasure. His glasses slid down his nose and he hastily removed them, determined to make Muraki scream. He felt something rising within him and he held fast until he heard Muraki cry out. He released into the man and collapsed back onto the mattress.

Tatsumi watched Muraki clean and dress in a haze, until he was pulled by his hair for a kiss. He was gathered into Muraki’s arms and didn’t resist as he was rocked back and forth. He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep as he was whispered the madman’s lullaby.
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Note: Originally written for a prompt challenge community.