Title: The Room of 30
02: Prize
By Tortulia
Previous parts: [P] [1]
Pairings: Tsuzuki/Hisoka, MurakixHisoka
Rating: PG-13/R Warnings for sexual content and non-con.
Summary: Our leading men investigate a supernatural auction-house, but are captured. Things of a seedier nature tend to ensue in these kinds of setup. This originally was a concept to lead into unhealthy Hiraki drabble writing, but came out longer than intended... there might even be plot. (?)
To be cross posted to 
hiraki and yami_no_matsuei.
***
Pain was something he thought he was familiar with. Hisoka had his fair share of scraps and injuries as a Shinigami. It surprised him, sometimes, how easy it was to become careless if you knew you were immortal. And through his empathy he could feel the pain of others everyday as their anguish gnawed quietly behind a sweet, open smile.
There is a saying: pain proof that you are alive. But it also tells you that you are dying, however small or slight.
This felt like his soul was being ripped out through his skin.
There was a roar in his ears and his heart raced like it would escape from his chest. He couldn't think and any thoughts splintered into a thousand shards heading in a thousand directions. Unable to move, unable to breath – it was death, all over again. Hisoka wondered if he was going insane.
The audience, for their part, was confused – a bit nervous – a bit excited – and curious. But the mash of minds was a hum under one dark, looming presence.
The doctor stepped on stage.
"Good evening, boy."
Muraki.
Muraki was here.
The pain faded, having only lasted seconds in reality. The curse marks still burned, but at a more manageable level. Panting, he fell back into the hands of his guards who had been frantically trying to keep a grip on him.
"Ano…" the announcer interrupted tentatively. "Sir, are you sure about your bid? Did we hear you correctly?"
"Yes. Is eighty million yen not satisfactory? However, being that he is mine, I am tempted to simply take him back."
Hisoka recoiled into the arms surrounding him, preferring them over Muraki.
Without warning, a blast knocked Tall, Smoker, and Baldy back. Wards around the room flickered red. The teen cringed and braced for the fall – but to his shock, the doctor had already reached him. He shuddered, numbed as Muraki spun him around and clutched him close. Cold seeped into his senses as a hand dragged down his front, and the other to throat.
"Should I take you right now, boy? As everyone watches?" Muraki hissed into his ear. "Must you be everywhere I go?"
Then, Hisoka exploded – fear momentarily replaced by a deep, unquenched rage. He struggled and tried to get a hand free to claw at the man. He stomped his bare feet on white leather shoes – desperate and ineffective. If it weren't for the gag, the auditorium would be filled with his swears… as it were, the words came out as muffled, animalistic snarls.
Muraki simply shoved him back to the guards, who had recovered enough to catch him.
"SIR, you are not permitted to use sorcery at our House…! A-Awase-sama!" The announcer broke off with a note of shock as the old man made his way to the stage from his seat, cane cracking on the polished floor. He had been sitting in the front, watching the action unfold.
"Muraki-sensei, what is the meaning of this?" Awase asked, rubbing his temple. "Why must tonight be full of spectacles?"
He bowed deeply. "I meant no insult. I was surprised to find him here."
"Do you know this Shinigami?"
"Intimately, you might say. But I never thought that he would come to this."
Hisoka's eyes narrowed and a heat burned behind his green gaze.
Awase looked between the two, his head tilted. "Although you claim ownership of this boy, and have marked him, it still does not change the fact that he and his partner have disrupted this auction enough already – not to mention, set loose a very valuable fox."
"I will have to apologize, Awase-san. I am at fault for your troubles, in a way," Muraki said, nodding. "Therefore… I will still offer the amount yen as payment – even if he may not be worth quit that much."
As a business man, he was intrigued. "And what do you mean by that, Sensei?"
"He is relatively young for a Shinigami – not even twenty of our years. New, powerless, inexperienced, and highly irritating…This, in turn, is quite dangerous for someone who knows nothing about Shinigami. It is rumored that simply seeing one curses you to an early grave." He addressed the guests. "No matter how beautiful, are you willing to risk death?"
The crowd murmured. Hisoka blinked - there was a brief flare of alarm, but it was not his own.
"However, his partner… and I assume the one with the rare, purple eyes… that one is much more worthy of your guests' time and effort. Not only is he a century old, he is a God of Death who actually despises killing. If you are willing to discuss, I can provide you with much more valuable information about what you have inadvertently captured."
The man leaned on his cane and considered this for a long moment.
Then, "As long as there are no higher bids, Sensei, we can talk."
Awase nodded to the announcer and she snapped to attention.
"Is there no other offer?" she shouted. They looked around, and there were no raised voices. "Then the deal has been settled. The Shinigami will go to our guest, Muraki-sensei!"
---
"And for your information," Awase added as they all exited back stage where payment was arraigned, "I will add one more reward along with your win."
He held out an object in his weathered hand. It was a simple, small key with an iron dragon curled around the end like a graceful knot of a handle.
"Is this…?" Muraki took it gingerly.
"For the rest of this week only, you may have access to the Room of 30. I usually use it as a study, but perhaps you want to use it to… reacquaint yourself with the boy first. All the preparations have already been made."
"This is quite generous of you," he said with a smile.
"Not to worry – you are one of my best suppliers for occult items, after all. You didn't happen to have this planned out, did you?"
"I assure you, I did not plan to have Shinigami be here."
"No matter." Awase clapped him on the back. "With everything and your actions on stage (Have you ever contemplated a career change?) this will be the talk of the week. The second one's auction without a doubt will be a huge success!"
"I may try my luck with that auction, as well," Muraki said mildly. "When it comes to collections, I enjoy having a completed set…"
Hisoka, relieved to be walked out with the guards and not the Good Doctor, shot a questioning look to Smoker as they eavesdropped.
Smoker glanced down, semi-apologetic, and explained, "The boss uses the room all the time... It's a door that leads to that room, an' doesn't matter where you take the door. One of a kind. He found it in China. A week out here equals a month in there."
"Real useful in a rush," Baldy whispered. "We've installed it with everything."
"Shut your traps," Tall ordered, stern. A thick hand squeezed his shoulder. "Good luck, kid."
Hisoka stared straight ahead.
---
The door didn't seem like much – a worn, iron door which might have had gold leaf decorating its boarders once. It was unattached to any wall that he could see, and in fact was more or less just a door in the middle of an empty room.
Did time really pass differently inside?
The group filtered in, somber. There was a clatter as Hisoka's shackles were removed, though the collar stayed on. The adrenaline from before was wearing out, and as they slipped off his gag he heaved a sigh of dread.
Stop it, stop shaking, he ordered himself. He didn't want to show this man (monster) how scared he was, even though it was so plainly obvious. Though he could speak now, he stayed silent – there would be no one to help him. It was business as usual for Awase and his men, and though he felt a sense of pity from them, they would not interfere with a client. For Hisoka it was a living nightmare.
Muraki unlocked the door, and it opened easily. There was a room inside – several, actually. It was like a small apartment, dark, but lit with candles and lamps. He gave the young Shinigami a sly smile, beckoning him in. Anticipation colored the air like smoke.
"Shall we?"
He took a step back.
Someone pushed him in, and the door closed.
---
He had been expecting it, but the unceremonious drop to the bed was as alarming as the fate it foreshadowed. It woke him from his silent stupor. With a start, Hisoka tried to beat the man back; shoving and scratching. His small hands could leave barely a mark when Muraki gripped his arms and pulled them down to the side. Not fast, not violent - but simply held him down in an inescapable grasp. Struggling, Hisoka looked up at him with eyes wide.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, fear buzzing in his head.
"Should I stop?" Muraki asked, irritatingly smug.
"Yes!"
And Muraki leaned down, face coming near, and Hisoka closed his eyes and braced for pain. Yet that did not come, and instead Muraki kissed him, softly, moving his mouth over Hisoka's again and again until he had to respond in kind.
Something slipped between their lips, drawing into Hisoka's, warm and slick. It was a strange sensation, to taste another, and he pushed against it with his own tongue. Muraki relented, and caught the smaller, fugitive tongue for a moment, suckling before that too disappeared quickly into its owner. Muraki's mouth moved over Hisoka's jaw line, brushing down over his shoulder. The smooth surface of teeth came and went, nipping, almost playful. The feeling wasn't painful, or even unpleasant, only a heated pressure against his quickening pulse.
"The body is the greatest traitor ever conceived," the man said darkly, shifting lower.
"Let me go, or I'll – "A soft mouth prodded and bent one of his nipples. Hisoka's breath hitched and became shallow; dread rested in his stomach like a heavy meal.
Though the bangs of hair, he could see the fake, mechanical eye. It gleamed in the light, cold and gray.
Muraki whispered, like a lover's promise, "It will betray you many times before this is done."