Golden sunlight crept stealthily into the dojo as the sun moved higher. A sword cut through the air, rising and falling again to its starting point in a steady, hissing rhythm. Hisoka did not cease his practice as the light moved to warm his bare feet and later to gilt-kiss his golden hair. His moves were focused, distilled, concentrated.

He was hurt, angry at the world he could feel all too well.

 

History
by K.Huntsman
released 23rd March 2003

 

"Hey, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said, lounging in the doorway. "Do you want to go get some cake?"

"No, thank you," Hisoka replied, absorbed in his book.

Tsuzuki snuck closer. "What are you reading?" He was slipping into puppy-dog mode. Hisoka could feel the eagerness and curiosity radiating from his partner.

"It's about the South Seas Islands and Japan's interests in them prior to the second world war."

"History?" Tsuzuki tilted his head to one side, kneeling down next to the sofa, looking at the title.

Hisoka lowered the book--after going on and on about copra production it had finally gotten to the Japanese immigration and sugar plantations, which was interesting--and looked at his partner. "What was World War Two like in Enma-chou?"

"Mmm." Tsuzuki tilted his head to the other side, considering. "Not too busy. Everyone was going to war, so there really weren't many unresolved deaths." He crossed his arms on the armrest and dropped his chin onto his sleeves. "I think it shook Tatsumi, though. He quit being my partner right after Japan surrendered."

That caused Hisoka to lower his book completely. It slipped closed, only his thumb holding his page. "Tatsumi-san did?" He'd never known the details of Tsuzuki's partnership with the enigmatic secretary, only that the two had indeed been partners at some nebulous point in the past.

Tsuzuki's violet eyes shone calmly, happily, as Hisoka considered him. Tsuzuki was crowding as closely as he could without actually crossing the line and touching Hisoka. He always did that, like a well-trained puppy, giving all the support he could and never asking for anything back.

Hisoka slid his thumb from the book and set it to his right, on the far side from Tsuzuki. As he turned back to face his partner, the window curtains blew in the gentle breeze of Meifu's early summer. Somewhere a fuuin chimed. Facing Tsuzuki, Hisoka reached out a hand. Tsuzuki straightened, watching as Hisoka's hand came to hover a few inches above his own.

"Hisoka?" he asked, meeting his partner's eyes.

"Is it okay?" Hisoka asked.

"Y-yeah."

Hisoka lowered his hand until he could feel the warmth coming from Tsuzuki's skin, then closed even that last distance between then. He touched flesh--

--and was submerged.

Things flashed past Hisoka faster than he could grasp or make sense of them. Violet eyes in a mirror -- fingers felt on lifeless flesh -- deepest despair -- a sickening desire to run away -- to protect -- darkness -- a light --

Hisoka closed his eyes, then opened them.

 

Tsuzuki held still as Hisoka's eyes closed. He knew that his partner was reading him, but had no way of knowing precisely how deep Hisoka was going or what he was picking up. I know there are dark things in me, he thought, remembering in a flash trying to gouge his hated purple eyes out again with a rock. He shoved that recollection away, not wanting Hisoka to get caught in it. But mostly I'm okay.

Hisoka, on the other hand.... Where Tsuzuki knew his own darknesses tended to be buried beneath his delight in the simple acts of life, Hisoka wore his past, and his heart, plain for all to see. He was brusque, rude, and isolated. Which, if you knew of the way his parents had treated him, let alone Muraki--Tsuzuki hastily unclenched his free hand and concentrated on his breathing until he calmed down.

Sometimes he wondered what it had been like for Hisoka, what it was like for the young man even now. In life, it surely must have been that he'd been an outcast among his classmates, too quiet, too withdrawn. But that isolation had to have been self-imposed. It would be hard to get close to anyone, knowing always what they felt, sometimes even what they thought, always conscious of the amplifying effect the mere touch of anyone's skin would have....

Had Hisoka ever been loved?

It was no wonder Tsuzuki's first impression had been of a self-centered brat. Hisoka had probably never known any way to be other than alone.

And now, like this, using his power deliberately... had it increased since Hisoka had died and become a shinigami? Or had he just become less reluctant to use it, having learned that not everyone he encountered would hurt him?

 

Hisoka blundered through a pain that was not his own, yet held echoes that were tantalizingly familiar. Voices dancing around a child, declaring him a demon... lying in a hospital bed for forever, in pain, wanting to die... cold and hunger, crying because it wouldn't end....

But this wasn't him, because when he reached for that one memory more pivotal than the others, it wasn't there. There was no flowering cherry tree beneath a blood-red moon. No invasion of the flesh, no body turning against itself... no rape, no magic bonds placed upon his skin and sinew, written deep to the bones. Not even the faintest echo of that.

As simply as that, Hisoka realized he was not all that he remembered, and separated himself from the deep undercurrents of his partner's mind, looking around consciously and of his own volition.

He found that he was in a dark place, one of those he'd known existed in Tsuzuki. All the darkness and pain that he'd found so similar to his own were not his at all, but something the older shinigami kept locked away within himself.

Turning, Hisoka found a door that was as near as it was far. Light seeped around its edges. Stepping forward once, he found himself before it. Putting a hand on the knob, he twisted it and stepped through.

He had to blink and raise his hand, trying to shield his eyes from the radiance of the golden light. It was warm here, so much warmer than the dark place behind him. Letting go of the doorknob, Hisoka hardly noticed when the door to the darkness shut itself.

Golden warmth curled around him like an affectionate cat or a favorite blanket. It was palpable, almost tangible, but not in the least suffocating. He spread his fingers, casting no shadow, and watched the light stream between them. His hand glowed pink, illuminated.

Or was it the light that was pink?

He glanced back up and found that the light currents around him had changed to the fiery pink-and-gold of a sunset, almost as if they'd recognized him and responded.

"Tsuzuki?" he asked.

 

Tsuzuki closed his eyes, hearing Hisoka's voice in his head.

 

Hisoka finally sighed and relaxed into the pink light. There was no reason to be wary of it. It really was like a big cat; just his relaxing seemed to make it purr, happy.

This was Tsuzuki's happiness. Hisoka hadn't known it felt like this. It was beautiful. And it felt like this was someplace Hisoka fit, someplace he belonged. Like Tsuzuki's happiness somehow wouldn't be as intense, as solid, if he wasn't there.

But then, wasn't that true for Hisoka as well?

Diving into Touda's flames, wanting to die with Tsuzuki rather than be left alone without him... that hadn't been a rational act in any way. At one time, probably, he would never have done it, not even for Tsuzuki. Not just for a partner. But Tsuzuki had long ceased to be just a partner....

"You are my happiness," Hisoka whispered.

He could not imagine life without Tsuzuki.

With that knowledge, he was ready to resurface.

The throb of blood through his body made Hisoka eventually aware of himself, and also of Tsuzuki's pulse where he held the older shinigami's left hand. The blood that pulsed through both of their bodies.... Slowly, Hisoka reached out and took Tsuzuki's other wrist. With focused precision, he unfastened and removed the watch, setting it to one side. He turned Tsuzuki's right arm so that its underside faced up. He ran a gentle thumb over the scar tissue slashed across the wrist. Guilt went through Tsuzuki like a flash flood. Hisoka ignored it and kissed that soft, scarred skin. Then he straightened and met Tsuzuki's violet eyes evenly.

"Hisoka...."

"This is the place I want to be," he said.

Tsuzuki just stared at him for a minute longer, then relaxed. Hisoka could hear the thought go through his partner's head: "If this is what he wants...."

"No," he replied to the unvoiced comment. "Not unless this is what you want too."

And then he felt a myriad of things coming from Tsuzuki: fear, hope, impossible longing, awe, and an unbelieving excitement that /this/ could be the case....

"Idiot," he said more out of habit than true sentiment. Slowly Tsuzuki's arms came up and folded around him, crushing Hisoka close.

"Hisoka..." Tsuzuki murmured.

"My place or yours?" Hisoka asked, saying words he never thought he'd say. Because he knew his own mind, and he knew Tsuzuki's, and any reserve between them now was only a formality. He hadn't missed the small spark of desire mixed in with everything else Tsuzuki felt.

Tsuzuki looked at him for a minute, then the world shifted around them, and Hisoka found himself in his living room.

"I thought you'd be more comfortable here," Tsuzuki said by way of explanation.

 

*~*

 

Hisoka had three base levels by which he judged pain. The first he had come across at the age of four, when he'd told his parents he could hear and feel the things other people thought and felt. They'd locked him in the basement for a month with no clothes, no bedding. Only one of the maids had been brave enough to sneak him food. Worse than the cold and deprivation, though, had been everything he could feel and hear but not see. He'd learned then that his parents only loved him if he fit their expectations--if he was normal. After he'd finally been let out, he'd hidden everything that he was, knowing that even so his parents still hated him--that he was their horror. He was still working his way through that pain.

The next great hurt had come when he was thirteen, on a night when the sakura bloomed. There he'd met his murderer, and lost what had been left of his childhood. He hadn't had enough martial arts training at that point to have fought off Muraki. His empathy had made things worse, swamping Hisoka in both his own fear and the absolute depths of the killer's darkness, hindering his flight, making him trip.

Hisoka suspected that part of what Muraki had done to him that night had stopped his physical aging at thirteen. He knew he was small and looked young even for the sixteen at which he'd died. It was just another reason to hate the man. Even now Hisoka had nightmares of his rape, and most days he had trouble eating. He was just grateful his psychic abilities didn't include projection. Half of Meifu might be sleepless if they did.

When even your body wasn't your own....

He didn't know which had been worse, Muraki's claiming of his body, endless pain both physical and psychic, or the fact that his murderer had mixed pleasure in with that pain. Hisoka had come twice that night, once in Muraki's mouth, then again in pain-soaked pleasure as the doctor had relentlessly pounded against his prostate while Hisoka bled and wept.

For weeks after, even not remembering, writing off his bruises and soreness to training, he'd been throwing up, unable to leave his bed. Everyone had thought he had the flu. He still wasn't sure whether Muraki's block on his memory had been a curse or an accidental blessing.

The removal of that block was the third experience by which Hisoka judged pain. Not only had he relived the memory as if it was reality, but the added malice that had prompted Muraki to capture him and force him back into that nightmare had worsened the entire thing. Unable to deal with or even comprehend the pain shredding him apart, Hisoka had simply shut down. All he could remember of outer reality was a scream that went on and on until the voice finally broke. He assumed that he had been the one screaming because when he had come back to himself, mercifully alone, his throat had been raw. Then he had simply waited to die.

But Tsuzuki had come, and Hisoka hadn't died, and instead lived with his history.

He had fears. He'd never been a sexual person. He wasn't sure he could be. He didn't know if he could stand to have anyone, even Tsuzuki, touch him. To be forced again into that deep level of synchronization.... Even worse was the thought that his body, no matter what his heart and mind said, might have been trained to recognize violence as pleasure. But he could not stay isolated and frozen forever. He had to move forward.

 

*~*

 

Hisoka sat on Tsuzuki's lap, his partner's arms wrapped around him, his own arms wrapped around Tsuzuki. Their hearts beat together. Hisoka felt safe and warm, sorting through his own thoughts and Tsuzuki's. Gentle things, soft moments like this... being in synch didn't hurt.

He smiled as he caught a familiar spark coming from Tsuzuki's mind. It still churned sickly in his stomach, this feeling of lust, but with Tsuzuki he felt safe enough to accept it. He took the spark and strengthened it, sending it back. Tsuzuki sucked in his breath, fingers tightening. "Hisoka," he said in a soft voice, his breath warm at Hisoka's ear, "you're cruel, teasing like that."

Hisoka let out a breath, conscious of the awakening hardness between Tsuzuki's legs. "If I was ready?"

"You're not."

"I'm the only one who can decide that." He could feel Tsuzuki mull that over and accept it.

"Are you ready?"

Hisoka turned the question over in his mind.

"Yes," he said.

"Hisoka...." Tsuzuki's voice was low and awed. "May I kiss you?" he asked finally.

"Yes."

Tsuzuki's lips touched Hisoka's, soft and dry. The touch was gentle. Hisoka closed his eyes, waiting to see what he would feel. Tsuzuki cradled him close. He could feel the rise and fall of both their chests as they breathed through their noses.

Hisoka felt nothing.

It didn't surprise him, but it did disappoint him. He felt as though he was too badly damaged, as though he would never be whole.

"Hisoka?"

Carefully, he reached out for Tsuzuki's emotions, wrapping himself in them, letting them suffuse his own mind. He knew already that he belonged only in Tsuzuki's arms, but since it seemed that he could not feel lust for his own part, he needed to submerge himself in his partner's.

Hisoka gasped as it burned its way through him, hot sweet droplets of honey-laced golden fire. His blood pulsed in his ears, in his lips, in his veins, all the way to the tips of his fingers, but most loudly in his penis and testicles.

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked again, sounding and feeling worried.

Hisoka lunged up, sealing his mouth to Tsuzuki's. The older shinigami tasted sweet, like candy--or was that the lust churning through Hisoka? He felt so much so intensely and could only marvel that it all came from Tsuzuki.

"How do you not show this all?" Hisoka gasped as their mouths parted.

Tsuzuki's eyes widened as he grasped what Hisoka had done. "Hisoka, you don't have to--"

"I want to," Hisoka replied, trying his best to emphasize to Tsuzuki just how much he did. He squirmed in erotic discomfort. "Though maybe this is too much," he admitted.

 

Tsuzuki chuckled, then touched his mouth again to Hisoka's, fingers slowly unbuttoning the green-eyed shinigami's shirt. His hands skimmed in beneath the fabric, moving along smooth flesh. Hisoka stiffened in reaction, then softened again.

Hisoka was too thin. Tsuzuki ran his fingers slowly over the teenager's chest, eyes widening as he felt clearly the rise of each individual rib. He'd never noticed that before, had never seen Hisoka shirtless. But even so....

Hisoka was delicate. Everyone in JuuOuChou knew it. His fragile appearance was part of his beauty. Somehow, though, Tsuzuki had never even contemplated that perhaps his partner's thin wrists might indicate a serious health problem.

"Why?" he whispered, looking into Hisoka's eyes. His fingers pressed lightly against the empath's rib cage, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

"Eating too much makes me sick," Hisoka replied, looking down and away.

Tsuzuki considered what Hisoka usually ate. Any number of times he'd seen the teenager leave half a meal or more untouched on his plate. "You don't eat enough."

Hisoka's eyes, pained, turned briefly up to Tsuzuki's. "I know," he whispered, then buried his face in Tsuzuki's chest. Stroking Hisoka's back beneath the white shirt, Tsuzuki wished he could take away all his partner's hurts.

"It will be all right," he soothed. "It will be." He kissed Hisoka's soft hair, inhaling the clean scent of shampoo.

Gradually, Hisoka unburrowed himself. Tsuzuki kissed him again, leaving behind unhappy thoughts. He certainly wasn't going to get anywhere by breaking off things this instant to feed Hisoka. Though the idea of combining Hisoka, food, and sex had definite potential....

Hisoka snorted softly. "Idiot. Only you would think so."

Tsuzuki could see the advantages, as well as the possible drawbacks, to having a lover who could read your mind. "Mm-hmm," he agreed happily, running his fingers down the sleek, warm skin of Hisoka's back, still aware of the tautness of thin flesh over the bones, but focusing instead on Hisoka's warmth, his willingness, the way Hisoka's nimble fingers were unbuttoning Tsuzuki's shirt.... Tsuzuki tucked his own fingers into the waistband of Hisoka's jeans. Hisoka squirmed again, his erection pushing against Tsuzuki's.

 

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka grated, his fingers brushing against the man's bare skin, the rest of him craving more... more touch, more skin against bare skin. His voice took on a pleading tone. "Tsuzuki...." Blood pounded through him, inexorable in its demands. His hands dropped to Tsuzuki's trousers, fingers fumbling with the button until Tsuzuki sucked in a breath and suddenly Hisoka could navigate the waistband. He unbuttoned it, unzipped the fly, hands cradling the warm bulge hidden behind thinner, softer cotton. He felt a flare of desire at that, the instinct pinging around inside Tsuzuki's consciousness as Hisoka gently kneaded that hard flesh.

"Hisoka...." Tsuzuki's voice was both a warning and a satisfied croon of Hisoka's name.

"Here or on the bed?" Hisoka asked, not letting up his stroking of Tsuzuki's flesh for an instant.

"Bed," Tsuzuki decided.

Hisoka pushed his needy sex against his partner's again, then forced himself to stand. He raised his right hand to his face, smelling the sharp musk of Tsuzuki's arousal. Tsuzuki's purple eyes were on him, on that action, and a part of Hisoka turned red and shouted at Tsuzuki in frustrated embarassment, but the rest of him stomped on that part and lowered the hand. "Coming?" he asked, turning to go to the bedroom.

Tsuzuki was there before he was, turning back the comforter. Hisoka eyed the elder shinigami and absently shed his shirt. He wanted Tsuzuki's own shirt off the man's shoulders and body and the rest of his clothing likewise discarded. Hisoka bent one knee up, then the other, tugging off his socks as Tsuzuki finished and turned to him. He let the clothes drop by the doorway as he walked over to his partner, who would always be taller and older and stronger than Hisoka was.

He found suddenly he didn't mind that so much anymore.

Hisoka put his hands on Tsuzuki's shoulders and pushed the shirt back and down until Tsuzuki abandoned it on his own.

"Are you sure you want this?" Tsuzuki's voice was quiet as he stripped his arms out of his shirt. "With me, now, like this?"

"Yes." Hisoka met Tsuzuki's eyes with his own, and walked forward, pushing, Tsuzuki stepping backward until the edge of the bed hit his legs and he obediently sat. His shirt fell to the floor. Hisoka situated himself on Tsuzuki's lap once more, sitting straight so that their faces were at the same level, and kissed his partner, his soon-to-be lover. Warm arms came around Hisoka as Tsuzuki leaned back onto the bed until they were horizontal. Hisoka groaned into the kiss as his heavy erection pressed again into Tsuzuki's.

"We'll need... lubricant..." Tsuzuki said, breathing harshly as the kiss ended.

"I'll get it." Hisoka brushed a more chaste kiss across Tsuzuki's lips, then stood and walked into the bathroom, where he kept a bottle of lotion by the sink.

When he returned, Tsuzuki had stripped his own socks off and sat again on the edge of the bed, watching Hisoka's every move. "How do you want this?" the man asked as Hisoka approached. "Me in you, or you in me, or...?"

Hisoka set the bottle down on the bedside table as he considered. Nothing in Tsuzuki's mind shuddered a reluctance either way; he really would be happy whatever Hisoka chose. "You in me," he decided.

Tsuzuki's eyes widened a fraction. "You're sure?" The entirety of Hisoka's history with Muraki was recalled in those two words.

"Yes," Hisoka said again, firm. He couldn't deny that a part of himself was quailing at the thought, but the rest of him, by far the larger part, trusted Tsuzuki, trusted his partner. It would be okay. Tsuzuki would make it okay, and Hisoka would get through this and hopefully past Muraki's rape at last. He dropped to his knees and laid his head on Tsuzuki's knee. "Please. I need this."

A hand stroked his hair, the touch radiating warm feelings and fondness. Love competing with and beating out even lust. "All right." Then the hand tugged at one of his, drawing Hisoka to stand. "But first we need to get you out of those trousers."

"Like I'm the only one," Hisoka retorted.

Tsuzuki ignored him and drew him closer by the waistband, then unbuttoned and unzipped Hisoka easily, shuffling the fabric down his legs until Hisoka bent over to step all the way out of the jeans. As he straightened, Tsuzuki's hand ran up one leg, over the silk of Hisoka's boxers, and covered Hisoka's erection with its palm, fingers cradling his balls. Hisoka bit back a whimper, rocking forward into that warm grasp. Tsuzuki's eyes were full of awe and care, but Hisoka didn't have to look into them to see that. All he knew were the feelings of love, affection, admiration, and unadulterated desire that emanated from Tsuzuki, drowning him in a sweet sea. "Tsuzuki," he breathed, as the silk was skimmed down his legs as well and he fell onto Tsuzuki's lap again, falling into a love that was like cool rain in the parched summer or a warm fire on a snowy night, thawing out with his lover's arms wrapped around him inside a blanket.

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki said softly, "your eyes are dilated."

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka said again to the person he could no longer really see, only sense as the center of all the emotions filling him, buoying him up. He whimpered as a hand freed him of the last impediments of clothing and covered again his aching sex--he turned willingly, his mouth seeking out that person's, their lips closing softly on one another.

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki's mind said, "Hisoka, come out of it." To have to move was like waking on a rainy morning when the whole world had ceased to have any importance and one's bed was the source of all safety and pleasure. But Hisoka followed the lure of that voice back in the direction it wanted. His mouth parted from Tsuzuki's with a breath and he could feel again his body, Tsuzuki's left hand slowly stroking his cock.

"Tsuzuki...?" he whispered.

"Oh, good, you're back," Tsuzuki replied quietly, looking into his eyes. Hisoka pressed his mouth again to Tsuzuki's, wondering. For a moment he had been in a place where nothing hurt and all that mattered was that this one person loved him. His hands slid down from around Tsuzuki's neck to run across the man's thighs, then grasp the open edges of his waistband.

"Off," he said when next their mouths parted.

Tsuzuki rolled Hisoka onto the bed. "As you wish," he said, stealing a brief kiss, then stood. Hisoka watched with unabashed eyes as Tsuzuki removed his dark work trousers, then his gray briefs, cradling his length in one hand as the clothing dropped to the floor. He crawled across the bed even as Hisoka scooted away to its center, finally positioning himself above Hisoka. "Now I have you where I want you," he said, half-teasing, as he lowered himself onto his partner.

With the full-body contact a thousand thoughts and memories beat down on Hisoka's mind, none his own, all of them coming from Tsuzuki. He staved them off, concentrating on the warm body above him and the cool sheets below him, on Tsuzuki's mouth in which he now recognized the taste of cinnamon candy, on the feeling of smooth skin beneath his fingertips as he clutched his partner to himself. Eventually the tide subsided, acquiescing to Hisoka's mastery. He didn't want it right now, he didn't need it right now. He wanted and needed Tsuzuki.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't stop," Hisoka said. Never stop, he wanted to say.

A hand traced down Hisoka's side. "I want you on top of me." Nodding, Hisoka moved over to one side as Tsuzuki rolled to the other. Hisoka then straddled the other shinigami again, lying down on top of him for more of the delicious touch. Tsuzuki reached for the bottle of lotion. Hisoka took it from him, pumping some onto Tsuzuki's waiting palm. "Thank you," Tsuzuki murmured as Hisoka set the bottle back down. He coated fingers of his left hand in the white cream, then brushed them down Hisoka's back as Hisoka lay back down. "If it hurts, tell me and I'll stop." Tsuzuki's right arm wrapped around Hisoka as his fingers delved between the cheeks of Hisoka's rear, exploring.

"Cold," Hisoka commented, body softly rocking as he fought contradictory feelings, Tsuzuki's fingers brushing against his opening. Only one person had ever touched him there before--but this was Tsuzuki, with whom he felt safe and complete. There was a steadily growing pressure on the outside, then one finger, probably Tsuzuki's index finger, pushed inside Hisoka. He tried to get used to the feeling. Something larger would be inside him soon. If he didn't like it, he could always say stop--but he wanted it. To prove that Muraki wouldn't have that hold over him for forever. To push past his own fears. To be one with Tsuzuki....

The finger pushed in and out in a steady rhythm. Slowly, Hisoka got used to it. "Okay," he told Tsuzuki, who kissed the side of Hisoka's neck and pushed in another finger that felt tight, like it was the maximum that could fit. But Hisoka's body was that of a shinigami, stronger, more flexible and resistant to damage than a normal human's. Tsuzuki could probably put his entire fist up Hisoka's ass without causing undue injury.

"What are you thinking?" Tsuzuki asked. His fingers brushed something inside that made Hisoka twitch and his penis jump. "Ohhhhh?" he inquired, voice innocent. His fingers immediately found the spot again and started prodding at it. Hisoka writhed, pushing back on Tsuzuki's fingers.

"Tsuzuki!"

A third finger slipped in almost without Hisoka's notice as he bucked and shuddered against Tsuzuki, that inner spot ruling his actions, his penis rubbing against Tsuzuki's skin, almost painfully insistent. "Tsuzuki!"

Slowly Tsuzuki withdrew his fingers, leaving Hisoka trembling and breathing hard. He smiled as Hisoka glared at him. "Is something wrong?"

Hisoka latched his mouth onto Tsuzuki's. "That felt better than almost anything," he hissed as their lips parted for just a second. Tsuzuki laughed into the kiss, then drew Hisoka closer and closer, their straining shafts pressing against one another, as though it might be possible to for them to overlap into one another and become a single person.

Hisoka finally broke away from the kiss, eyes glittering with a happiness and passion that were only partly his own. He reached for the lotion and pumped some into one palm, then rubbed it between both hands, warming it. Reaching down, he brought both hands up along Tsuzuki's penis, then back down and up again, firmly smoothing the lotion on. He could feel the sparkles of pleasure scintillating in Tsuzuki's mind and body. Only Hisoka's weight on his legs prevented the man from pushing up into the pressure of those hands.

Hisoka took his hands away, wiping the excess lotion onto his thighs. He rose up on his knees and moved forward, taking hold again of Tsuzuki's penis with just one hand. He slowly lowered himself until its tip rested just outside the entrance to Hisoka's body. Tsuzuki's hands on his hips steadied him.

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki said, voice thick with love and wanting.

Hisoka closed his eyes and let the weight of his body bear itself down. There was a moment's resistance, then Tsuzuki's flesh pressed into his own and Hisoka was lost.

He sank further down, feeling filled, but he was also the one filling--oh gods, so hot, so tight, it was almost painful, the aching around him that was pressing against that place inside him, his prostate, sparking magic that turned into white birds flying away behind his eyes and warmth, like a summer's day at the beach with Tsuzuki's arms around him and his arms around Hisoka and Hisoka was so tight, so beautiful, so perfect, and Hisoka's eyes were dilated again, black eclipsing the green so he struggled not to move until Hisoka came back to him again because what if Hisoka was lost forever, but Hisoka's body moved and Tsuzuki's penis rubbed against that place and the sparkles were better than ever, brighter, tighter and it was so hard not to move, to wait for Hisoka, who kept moving, and, and... and it went on forever around Hisoka, spiraling brightness and pleasure and warmth that was all things good, two people coming together as one, being with this special person.

Somewhere, intensely, Hisoka was aware of his body and of Tsuzuki's. "Tsuzuki," he whispered. That other person who was half of him, his partner in this pleasure and this place of warmth. He could not see, but he could feel: hands on his hips, the surging motion of two bodies, the tight pleasure around one penis, the perfect fit into another's body, sliding against skin, and above all the source of all pleasure, Tsuzuki.

Then the world tilted on its side and slowly whited out.

 

Hisoka came back to himself in heartbeats, each one counted as though hoarded, a precious treasure. His body felt sore and warm and good. He was tired and sated, and itchy with dry sweat and sticky with other things still drying. And he was lying half on top of Tsuzuki, his head resting on the man's shoulder, their legs twined together. A low background hum of contentment ran through the other shinigami's mind even as he opened his eyes and looked at Hisoka.

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka said carefully, not sure he remembered how to speak.

"Are you all right?" The arm that wasn't tucked behind Tsuzuki's head was wrapped around Hisoka's shoulders.

Hisoka nodded. "You?"

"Fine." Tsuzuki studied Hisoka's eyes for a minute, then looked up at the ceiling. "I tried to wait for you to come back again, but you didn't. Then you started moving, and.... Where were you, Hisoka?"

Hisoka considered, then laid a hand on Tsuzuki's chest, right over the heart. It beat, da-dum, da-dum, strong for a dead man. "I was here."

"Really." Tsuzuki's eyes were back on him again, slightly wider. "Are you going to do that every time?"

"I don't know," Hisoka confessed. "Do you have any complaints?"

"No, just...." Tsuzuki hesitated. "I like the feeling that I'm making love to you, here with me."

Hisoka let out a breath of amusement. "Believe me, I felt everything."

"Everything of yours or everything of mine?"

"Everything," Hisoka said simply.

Tsuzuki let out a breath of his own, then closed his eyes, turning his face back to the ceiling. "Just promise me that you'll always come back to me."

"Mmm." Hisoka snuggled deeper under the covers and closer into Tsuzuki's side, ignoring the desire to get them both clean before falling back asleep. "I promise."

 

Tatsumi looked up automatically as the outer door to the office opened. "Good morning, everyone!" Tsuzuki sang, followed by Hisoka's "'Morning."

"Good morning," Tatsumi greeted, then went back to his ledgers.

He chanced to look up again, though, after Tsuzuki had finished his ecstatic selection from the morning's danishes and bounded over to the desks. His partner was already reviewing the previous day's death statistics. "Here, Hisoka," he said, laying one plate on Hisoka's desk. Hisoka glanced up at him.

"Thank you," he said softly, catching Tatsumi's interest. Usually Hisoka would not want the danish, and would remind Tsuzuki of that fact.

"And you're going to eat it, too," Tsuzuki warned, sitting in his own chair. "Even if it takes you all day."

Hisoka merely nodded, and went back to his report.

Kurosaki-kun, Tatsumi decided, was definitely not his usual self today.

Meticulous by nature, Tatsumi kept an eye on the Kyuushuu duo's activities through the day. Something had definitely changed overnight. Their chairs were several inches closer than usual, and they consulted one another more often. Tsuzuki seemed less overanxious to please, less puppyish. Hisoka was more agreeable, slower to take offense. They'd both, for lack of a better word, mellowed.

 

Tsuzuki was not unaware of Tatsumi's surveillance. He'd been working with Tatsumi too long for it to pass his attention. He considered bringing the matter up to Hisoka, but decided that once Tatsumi's interest had been raised, there was no known way of lowering it. People were bound to find out eventually anyway. Tsuzuki neither wanted to act, nor have Hisoka think he was, ashamed of their relationship. So Tatsumi was free to draw whatever conclusions he liked. Tsuzuki just knew he was happy, genuinely happy, for the first time in as long as he could remember.

He'd woken frequently through the night, minute shifts of Hisoka's body disturbing him. Tsuzuki wasn't used to sleeping with anyone else. He thought he could get used to it, though, to a warm body next to his own, to not being alone in the middle of the night. But he'd definitely gotten enough sleep because he'd finally woken naturally in the morning, finding Hisoka lying on his stomach, head propped up on his arms. Hisoka had confessed that he hadn't dreamed at all during the night. The way he'd said it made it sound like to Hisoka it was a minor miracle. Then he'd kissed Tsuzuki good morning and they'd gone to shower and bathe. The silence of the bathroom had been beautiful, single drawn-out drips of water echoing in the quiet as Tsuzuki'd sat in the steaming bath up to his shoulders, content, with Hisoka held in his arms.

Hisoka had made breakfast. Tsuzuki didn't know why he wasn't allowed to, his food tasted just fine to him.... But Hisoka had insisted, and the domesticity of it all had been novel. He'd made sure Hisoka had actually eaten a decent amount, until Hisoka had informed him that another bite would hurt his stomach. Tsuzuki had let up then. Bad health couldn't be killed with one meal, and Hisoka didn't seem likely to need to starve himself any more.

After breakfast, still wrapped in towels, Tsuzuki had teleported to his house to get dressed, then met Hisoka halfway to work. And while Hisoka hadn't quite smiled at him yet, there was a lightness in his partner's steps, in his eyes, a general release of tension in his posture that led Tsuzuki to believe that Hisoka shared his feelings of his own accord.

Tsuzuki couldn't think of a single thing he'd wish for more than that.

 

The knock on his door didn't break Watari's unwavering concentration as he counted the drops falling into the beaker. "Come in," he replied on automatic. Seven... eight... nine... ten. He sighed in relief and set the eyedropper plug back on its jar. Eleven drops would have caused an explosion. Ten merely rendered the solution very, very volatile. He turned to face his visitor.

"Am I interrupting?" Tatsumi asked.

"No, no, not at all," Watari said, waving his hands. "How can I help you, Tatsumi-san?"

The secretary pushed his glasses slightly higher on the bridge of his nose. "Have you seen Tsuzuki and Kurosaki-kun yet today?"

"Tsuzuki and Bon?" Watari asked. "No, not yet. Why?"

The secretary smiled slightly. "I would be interested in your professional opinion, Watari-san."

"Ohhhh?" Tatsumi had Watari's interest. "Go on."

Tatsumi shook his head. "I wouldn't want to corrupt your observations with my own." He was still smiling.

Watari headed for the door. "Where are they now?"

Tatsumi followed. "I believe Tsuzuki managed to talk Kurosaki-kun into a picnic lunch."

"Hmm, that's odd," Watari said. "Bon usually doesn't get talked into anything." He shut the door behind them.

On the workstation, the vibration of the door's closing made the solution fizzle briefly before it turned pink.

 

Hisoka lay on the blanket, looking up at the clouds as they passed slowly overhead.

"That one's a sailing ship," Tsuzuki said.

Hisoka squinted. "I can't see it."

"Hmm. What do you think it is, then?"

"A carp jumping out of a pond of water."

"Okay, we have a fish," Tuzuki cheerfully agreed, then sat up and reached for their bento boxes. He speared a piece of nigiri sushi between his chopsticks and brought it to Hisoka's mouth. "Open."

Hisoka obliged and bit the sushi cleanly in two. Tsuzuki popped the other half into his own mouth. They both experienced the melting savoryness of maguro at the same time. Hisoka swallowed. "It makes my head spin a little."

"Too much wasabi?" Tsuzuki asked.

Hisoka shook his head. "No, feeling you taste it at the same time I taste it. It's like vertigo."

Tsuzuki poked in the box for the next piece of sushi. "Are you too open to me? You can close it down a little, you know. I won't be hurt."

Hisoka considered. "Maybe a little too open," he agreed. "But for now I like it."

"Okay. You're the expert." Tsuzuki picked out a piece of tako sushi. "Ne, Hisoka...."

"Do I mind if people know?"

Tsuzuki breathed out a laugh. "Yeah." He bit the sushi in half and offered the rest to Hisoka, who shook his head.

"I don't like octopus," Hisoka explained.

"Ah." Tsuzuki ate the other half.

"I don't mind if anyone knows," Hisoka said finally. "I'm not going to be the one going up and telling them, though."

"Inari sushi?" Tsuzuki offered.

"Please." Hisoka got half of that one too, the sweet tofu pocket the perfect complement to the savory, filling rice held within. Tsuzuki ate his with gusto.

 

"My goodness." Watari adjusted his glasses. "He's hand-feeding Bon."

"You see what I mean," Tatsumi said.

"Definitely." Tatsumi waited. "My goodness."

"What would your conclusion be?"

Watari put a finger beneath his chin, looked up at the branches of the tree they were under, and hmmed a little. Tatsumi was patient. Some results were best not rushed. Watari looked back at him. "They did it," the scientist analyzed.

Tatsumi nodded. "My conclusion as well."

"Tatsumi, you really are just a shameless gossip, aren't you?" Watari beamed. "You couldn't wait to get me out of the lab to show this to me."

Tatsumi coughed and adjusted his glasses again, not deigning to reply to the remark. "Thank you for your time and insight, Watari-san."

 

Hisoka was claimed by Watari as soon as he and Tsuzuki had returned to the building, and was dragged off to the scientist's lab for "gathering experimental data," a phrase that reflexively filled Hisoka with wary dread. Watari sat Hisoka on a stool, closed the door, and pulled up his own stool to face Hisoka.

"How do you feel today, Bon?" he began.

"Fine," Hisoka replied, waiting for Watari to whip out some kind of potion.

"And Tsuzuki?"

"He's fine too." And a little worried about what dire purposes Watari might have kidnapped Hisoka for. Hisoka knew that without even reaching for it.

"Ahhh." Watari nodded sagely. "And 'fine' is always the standard answer given when people are trying to pry too deeply into a new relationship, isn't it?"

"What?" Hisoka's eyes flew wide. Watari knew. How did Watari know?

"We may not all have your powers, Bon, but other people around here are capable of reading people by their actions."

This was the first time he'd seen Watari today, which left.... "Tatsumi-san," Hisoka guessed, an odd echo pinging off Watari like radar to confirm that Hisoka was right.

Watari nodded. "Now, we're happy for you, but I just want to make sure that you and Tsuzuki are doing this for the right reasons and not the wrong ones."

Wrong reasons like Muraki, Hisoka knew.

"With your history..." Watari added. "We just want to be sure."

Hisoka took a breath and sighed it out. "I don't think we are, Watari-san. Doing it for the wrong reasons, I mean. Tsuzuki...." It was hard to describe in words though it made sense in feelings. Hisoka struggled to find the right ones. "I think we make one another complete, Watari-san. It just feels better when he's with me. And I know he loves me. I know."

Watari nodded. "And you, Bon?"

Hisoka almost smiled, the question was so simple. "Of course. You could doubt it?"

Watari shook his head, smiling himself. "Not for an instant."

 

Watari watched the closed door for a minute after Hisoka had left. 003 left her post and flew over to perch on his shoulder. He rubbed her head softly and she hooted in appreciation, leaning into the touch. "I wish we could all have love like that," he said, almost envious.

He turned back to his workbench and the experiment he'd left before lunch. He picked up the beaker with one hand, adjusting his glasses with the other. "Eh, what's this?"

 

Tsuzuki smiled, Tatsumi observed, as Hisoka walked back into the office. "Watari's done with you already, Hisoka?"

Hisoka nodded. "He just wanted confirmation."

"Con...firmation?" Tsuzuki asked, confused.

Hisoka looked at Tatsumi. "Yeah," he said with an ironic twist to his lips, then returned to his desk.

Tsuzuki's eyes narrowed as he looked at Tatsumi. "Confirmation related to a certain someone's observations this morning?" he astutely guessed.

"Yeah," Hisoka said again, already opening a new file folder.

So. They knew that Tatsumi and Watari knew.

"Hmm." Tsuzuki seemed to give up the matter and return to his work at hand. Tatsumi certainly followed suit. There was silence, save for the scratching of pens and the rustle of paper in the office for half an hour before Tatsumi looked up again.

Hisoka's hand rested next to Tsuzuki's, their skin touching. Hisoka was turning redder and redder. It wasn't hard to guess the direction of Tsuzuki's thoughts. Tsuzuki looked up from being seemly absorbed in his paperwork to glance at Hisoka. Hisoka glared at him. Tsuzuki smiled. Hisoka's blush faded, then he smiled in return.

Tatsumi had never seen Hisoka truly smile.

It was breathtaking.

 

Author's Notes

This is my first Yami no Matsuei fic. It's based on the manga, set post-Kyoto but pre-GenSouKai, as the anime tends to come off as being written a bit cheaply in comparison. That said, there are things that may ring a bit odd in the story. Does Meifu have seasons? In the anime, it seems to be an eternal spring there. But in the manga, in the Okinawa arc, Hisoka is desperately fanning himself in the office, trying to stay cool, and during the archery tournament arc it's January and Hisoka's breath frosts in the air. So I extrapolate that Meifu does indeed have seasons. The omnipresent sakura just ignore them.

Another change in this story is the concept of Hisoka as an anorexic. Looking at images of him at thirteen and of him as sixteen, I couldn't see a difference, while in the real world thirteen-year-old and sixteen-year-old versions of the same person would be visually distinct. So I wondered if perhaps Muraki had done something that had stopped Hisoka's aging process. My friend the Fox, however, in prereading bits of this story incorporated the line about Hisoka having trouble eating most days to form a picture of anorexia nervosa--a condition that among other nasty side effects can cripple the body's natural aging process. Following her inspiration, though there is no indication of it in canon, the Hisoka of this story became an anorexic.

Another thing that came into play is that it is frequently pointed out in the series that Hisoka is sleepy. This could result from low blood pressure, or, more likely, it could come from his constant nightmares of his rape by Muraki. Which is why it's so important that, sleeping with Tsuzuki, Hisoka didn't dream.

The book Hisoka is reading is Nan'yo: The Rise and Fall of the Japanese in Micronesia, 1885-1945 by Mark R. Peattie. If I had to read it, I decided, so did Hisoka. Which is how this story actually started. And, as always, I am in debt, having borrowed some of the style of my friend and inspiration, N-chan.

As to what Watari's potion was... that's a secret. ^^

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