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comment_fic's "Author's choice, any,
"Well I am Death, none can excel,
I'll open the door to heaven or hell."
~ O' Death, Jen Titus
Muraki/Tsuzuki, alternate universe WARNING: Violence, general weirdness
Wind and rain beat against the windowpanes of the sitting room in Muraki's rooms, like something out of a Hammer horror movie or an old-fashioned whodunit. On this rare quiet night, when he didn't have a graveyard shift at the clinic -- or something more personal to attend to -- Muraki took the chance to simply relax and read some Baudelaire by the gas fire.
A loud bang from downstairs shook the floor. Muraki looked up from his book. "Now what the devil is that?" he murmured. As if answer, a bolt of lightning lit the room and a clap of thunder exploded overhead. The reading lamp and the lights in the sconces on the wall flickered and went out, plunging the room into darkness tempered only by the firelight.
Someone yelled in horror on the stairs outside the room. The sound cut off abruptly, followed by a thud, as if the one crying out had been strangled.
Silence ensued, except for the patter of the rain. A floorboard creaked. Muraki contemplated veiling and slipping out to find the intruder, but the thought quickly left his mind.
The door to the hall crashed open hard enough to loosen the hinges. A flash of lightning back lit the figure standing framed in the doorway, a lean figure in a long coat, the shoulders oddly misshapen, giving it a hunch-backed look.
The figure stepped into the firelight, a familiar young man with violet eyes, but those eyes had lost their usual soulfully sad look. Instead they glittered harder and colder than the amethysts they resembled. A cruel smirk replaced Tsuzuki's usual cheerful smile. And Muraki had never seen him with these black wings which had torn through the fabric of the younger-looking man's shirt, suit and trenchcoat, leaving his garments hanging tattered below his shoulders. The fact that his clothes were sodden with rain and his dark wings were drenched didn't seem to faze him: rather, he eyed Muraki with the kind of hunger that Muraki himself usually reserved for the shinigami.
"So the seals holding back your darkness have been broken," Muraki said, disguising the fact that a shiver of terror was running through his limbs. "Enjoying your newfound strength, Mister Tsuzuki?"
"You could put it that way," Tsuzuki replied, his voice sneering. "I just happened to be in the area and I thought I'd drop in and say hello."
And in one swift movement, he crossed the floor between them, grabbed Muraki by the throat and pinned him back on the couch. His wings flared as he knelt on Muraki, holding him fast, wrists above his head.
"And still you don't hesitate to use violence against me," Muraki quipped. "You really haven't changed much, except that you won't likely be eaten up with regret after you're done with me."
"Believe me, Muraki," Tsuzuki snarled, his face inches from the pale man's beneath him. "I will enjoy every moment that I spend breaking you." He twisted the pale man's wrists till the bones shrieked in their sockets and Muraki felt them snap.
"Do you intend to kill me here and now?" Muraki asked, barely holding back the painful groan rising in his throat. "How unoriginal."
"I could just kill you with a touch: I am a Guardian of Death, after all," Tsuzuki said, shifting his hands to Muraki's elbows and continuing to twist his prey's arms backward, till the tendons and muscles in his shoulders burned with pain. "But I'm not ready to send you to hell right away. Don't think I didn't learn a few things from you. Like playing with your prey."
Muraki laughed out loud in spite of the pain. "Whether you make my death a heaven or a hell, you must realize something: all this time, I've had a deathwish," he said. "So do you really think that killing a man who's been trying to find a way to destroy himself since his own darkness was awakened, will satisfy your end or mine?"
Tsuzuki hesitated and some of that soulful look came into his eyes, as if the gentle death god that he was had for a moment taken precedent over the avenging dark angel that had taken over. Then his eyes hardened over. "In that case, I'll deny you that pleasure, but I will enjoy breaking every bone in your body that won't kill you." And with that he reached down to take hold of Muraki's thighs, forcing them apart...
comment_fic's "Author's choice, any,"Well I am Death, none can excel,
I'll open the door to heaven or hell."
~ O' Death, Jen Titus
Muraki/Tsuzuki, alternate universe WARNING: Violence, general weirdness
Wind and rain beat against the windowpanes of the sitting room in Muraki's rooms, like something out of a Hammer horror movie or an old-fashioned whodunit. On this rare quiet night, when he didn't have a graveyard shift at the clinic -- or something more personal to attend to -- Muraki took the chance to simply relax and read some Baudelaire by the gas fire.
A loud bang from downstairs shook the floor. Muraki looked up from his book. "Now what the devil is that?" he murmured. As if answer, a bolt of lightning lit the room and a clap of thunder exploded overhead. The reading lamp and the lights in the sconces on the wall flickered and went out, plunging the room into darkness tempered only by the firelight.
Someone yelled in horror on the stairs outside the room. The sound cut off abruptly, followed by a thud, as if the one crying out had been strangled.
Silence ensued, except for the patter of the rain. A floorboard creaked. Muraki contemplated veiling and slipping out to find the intruder, but the thought quickly left his mind.
The door to the hall crashed open hard enough to loosen the hinges. A flash of lightning back lit the figure standing framed in the doorway, a lean figure in a long coat, the shoulders oddly misshapen, giving it a hunch-backed look.
The figure stepped into the firelight, a familiar young man with violet eyes, but those eyes had lost their usual soulfully sad look. Instead they glittered harder and colder than the amethysts they resembled. A cruel smirk replaced Tsuzuki's usual cheerful smile. And Muraki had never seen him with these black wings which had torn through the fabric of the younger-looking man's shirt, suit and trenchcoat, leaving his garments hanging tattered below his shoulders. The fact that his clothes were sodden with rain and his dark wings were drenched didn't seem to faze him: rather, he eyed Muraki with the kind of hunger that Muraki himself usually reserved for the shinigami.
"So the seals holding back your darkness have been broken," Muraki said, disguising the fact that a shiver of terror was running through his limbs. "Enjoying your newfound strength, Mister Tsuzuki?"
"You could put it that way," Tsuzuki replied, his voice sneering. "I just happened to be in the area and I thought I'd drop in and say hello."
And in one swift movement, he crossed the floor between them, grabbed Muraki by the throat and pinned him back on the couch. His wings flared as he knelt on Muraki, holding him fast, wrists above his head.
"And still you don't hesitate to use violence against me," Muraki quipped. "You really haven't changed much, except that you won't likely be eaten up with regret after you're done with me."
"Believe me, Muraki," Tsuzuki snarled, his face inches from the pale man's beneath him. "I will enjoy every moment that I spend breaking you." He twisted the pale man's wrists till the bones shrieked in their sockets and Muraki felt them snap.
"Do you intend to kill me here and now?" Muraki asked, barely holding back the painful groan rising in his throat. "How unoriginal."
"I could just kill you with a touch: I am a Guardian of Death, after all," Tsuzuki said, shifting his hands to Muraki's elbows and continuing to twist his prey's arms backward, till the tendons and muscles in his shoulders burned with pain. "But I'm not ready to send you to hell right away. Don't think I didn't learn a few things from you. Like playing with your prey."
Muraki laughed out loud in spite of the pain. "Whether you make my death a heaven or a hell, you must realize something: all this time, I've had a deathwish," he said. "So do you really think that killing a man who's been trying to find a way to destroy himself since his own darkness was awakened, will satisfy your end or mine?"
Tsuzuki hesitated and some of that soulful look came into his eyes, as if the gentle death god that he was had for a moment taken precedent over the avenging dark angel that had taken over. Then his eyes hardened over. "In that case, I'll deny you that pleasure, but I will enjoy breaking every bone in your body that won't kill you." And with that he reached down to take hold of Muraki's thighs, forcing them apart...
