Author: Lipstickcat
E-mail: [email protected]
Pairing: Muraki/Saki Muraki/Tsuzuki
Rating: Nc-17
Summary: Basically an exercise in �what if?�, the question being what if Muraki had succeeded in transplanting Saki�s head onto Tsuzuki�s body?
Warnings: Plenty of them, a dark evil, kinda AU, fic. Violence, a little vampirism, incest, non-con. Please, please don�t read if you think its going to disturb you, it probably will.
Disclaimer: Not mine, I don�t even get to dream about them *sniff*
Notes: As I mentioned, its kinda AU, seeing as its something that doesn�t actually happen. I�ve only seen the anime (and to be honest the subtitles kinda fell apart towards the last few eps), so please excuse any mistakes.
***
It was the strangest sensation: opening his eyes. He knew that he hadn't done it for such a long time, although quite how much time had passed was completely beyond him. It was a slow process, the action seemed alien to him. It didn't help that his eyelashes were stuck together, causing him mild pain to rip them apart.
He didn't expect the bright white light that filled his vision and he immediately shut his eyes again. He'd spent so long in darkness, swimming in a vast thoughtless void, that the sudden sharp light seemed limiting, like a cage.
He squinted cautiously into the light, automatically lifting his hand to shield his eyes. That action felt strange too. His arm felt heavy, not his somehow. It seemed bigger, longer than he remembered and he misjudged the movement, so that his hand fell back down too fast and the back of it whacked against his forehead.
It took a moment for him to realise that he was lying down. That could possibly explain why lifting his arm had felt so strange, but he still didn�t feel right. He shifted slightly, testing the surface beneath him. It was solid and, when he ran his hand over it, smooth and cool. His fingers found an edge, suggesting that he was lying on some kind of raised surface, like a table. He decided that he should try to sit up and get his bearings.
Suddenly a dark shape appeared above him, blocking out the beam of light that had been blinding him. He blinked and waited to adjust to the change of light. Slowly, he became aware that it was a face looking down at him. The features were drowned in shadows but he could make out the male face, partially obscured by a fringe of silver hair. The one steel grey eye that was visible seemed to shine through the darkness, shimmering excitedly.
"Saki! It worked!" the man smiled, his lips curling in an expression that wasn't entirely friendly.
Saki? That was his name, wasn't it? And this face seemed somehow familiar; he knew that hair, those eyes, even that voice. They'd changed, but they stirred dusty memories that were buried deep inside his mind.
"You cannot begin to comprehend the trouble I have gone to for you," the man continued talking, "all that I have sacrificed."
Saki jumped as a cool hand trailed down his midsection. The realization that he was naked sent an icy fear through him. He didn't know where he was, but instinct told him that nothing good could come of his predicament. He was exposed and vulnerable. Once again, he moved to sit up, but before he could lever himself upright, a palm pressed against his chest and slammed him back down against the metal worktop.
"Don't you recognise your own brother?" the silver haired man smirked.
"� Muraki?..." his voice was hoarse from lack of use and the whisper cracked before he could even manage to complete the word.
The man above him nodded and moved out of his vision. How could that be? He was an adult; the last time he'd seen Muraki, he'd been a child. The same age as himself. Yet, he knew this was the truth; this man was his half brother. How many years had passed? Did that mean he was a man as well?
His thoughts were interrupted and stopped dead mid flow by a sharp pain in his arm. He let out a croaky cry as the pain blossomed. He twisted around to see Muraki drawing a long, fine needle from his flesh. Even as the sight made Saki's stomach flip over, he realised that where he had felt pain seconds ago now felt numb. The lack of feeling quickly spread, as if his body was beginning to vanish. The light above him began to mist over. He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut to try and clear his vision, but when he reopened them, bright spots of purple and orange light danced in front of him. He wanted to raise his hand to his eyes, but he couldn't. He couldn't even feel the surface he was laying on any more.
His eyelids drifted shut, and he desperately forced them open again. It was an effort; they felt so heavy. They wouldn't stay open and he battled as they fell shut, the fluttering effect buzzed in his head painfully before his eyes rolled back into his skull and he lost consciousness.
***
Muraki watched as his half brother lost his battle to the drugs he'd given him. His fingers trailed under Saki's jaw and over his neck. He could feel the tiny bumps of the scar, but even that was almost gone. Tsuzuki's healing abilities were truly magnificent, an equal match and compliment to his own medical skills. He'd succeeded in transplanting an all but dead head of one person onto the body of another. He was the greatest and most powerful surgeon living.
It had never been his ambition, not before Saki came into his life. He couldn't remember what he had wanted to do with his life before then; his entire being had become so devoted to getting his revenge on Saki for taking away everything he had ever cared about, he'd forgotten any other hopes he had held for life.
Saki had tried to kill him, but he'd survived. Now, he had the chance to take his revenge for his father and mother. He'd kill Saki with his own hands, not just once, but over and over until he felt that justice had been served. It was all he had thought about since the day he had realised that Saki was a murderer.
He knew that the only way to kill someone who was already dead was to bring them back to life. Only a surgeon or a powerful sorcerer could do what he wanted. He'd become both.
Muraki splayed his hand over Saki's neck in a loose chokehold. His thumb pressed against the slow pulse at the back of his jaw. With his other hand, he gently pushed a lock of hair from his brother's forehead and leant in close so that he could whisper in the unconscious man's ear.
"You made me all that I am, Saki."
If it hadn't have been for Saki, he'd have grown into a completely different man. He had to feel some gratitude for Saki; if he'd never developed an interest in his grandfather's medical journal, he'd never have discovered Tsuzuki. He couldn't imagine not knowing the Shinigami. He moved back and ran his hand over the contours of his beloved's chest.
Turning with a sigh, he walked away from the sleeping figure to the tank that had previously contained Saki's head. He pressed his hands against the glass, peering through the green liquid to its new occupant. Saki had always seemed so peaceful in there; asleep. But Tsuzuki gazed wide-eyed back at Muraki. The murky water did nothing to dull or alter his vibrant violet eyes. Muraki wondered if Tsuzuki was conscious, whether he was aware of what was happening. If he was, he showed no sign of sentience, not even blinking.
Muraki ran his hands over the glass, lovingly tracing the line of Tsuzuki's face. His beloved's silky hair flowed in the liquid, catching in the constant stream of air bubbles fighting their way to the surface. The fine strands fanned out, so that the light behind the tank shone through it like a halo.
Muraki chuckled lowly to himself; how appropriate.
His smile softened as he watched his poor Tsuzuki. It was undignified, his head floating in that viscous fluid, tubes and wires twisting and trailing away from him. It wasn't forever though, when he was finished with Saki, he'd put him back and they'd carry on playing the games they'd always played.
He could look at Tsuzuki all day, but he had things to organise before Saki woke up. He turned away from the tank and picked up a cotton reel from the nearby table. He carefully began to unwind the fine golden hair that was wrapped around it.
***
He was dreaming, he knew it. It had been so long since he had dreamed, but he recognised it instantly. The edges of his vision were milky, while everything happening directly in front of him was in sharp focus, much crisper than in real life, as if everything were only cardboard cut outs.
He watched himself, from a detached viewpoint, as he re-enacted scenes that were familiar to him.
He saw the moment his father had introduced him to Muraki. The old man had expected them to get on like brothers who had known each other their whole lives. He had been a thoughtless fool. Muraki had tried to be a friend, but why should they get on? They both symbolised to each other a father who had cheated on everyone who had ever loved him.
And he hadn't even wanted Muraki as a friend. He was bitter, he could admit to that freely, but who could blame him? Muraki had everything; a doting father who was a constant in his life, a name, a family, whereas Saki was the nameless bastard son to an unfaithful man and his mistress. He'd had nothing but prejudice and the occasional visit from his philanderous father. He hated them all; his mother for falling for meaningless lies, his father for being nothing but a liar, he hated Muraki's mother for not being his, and most of all, he hated Muraki because, but for a twist of fate, their lives could have been reversed.
It had been so easy to slowly poison them. He watched from his omniscient viewpoint above as his past self carefully measured the powder into the tea. Never enough to be traceable, but with each bit, a little more of them died. No one noticed as they gradually became increasingly ill.
He hadn't done that with Muraki though, something told him that his half brother would be too clever for that and he didn't want him discovering the poison before his step mother and father were out of the way. It turned out that he was right; Muraki was smart. It was too late to save his parents, but he confronted Saki after his father's funeral.
The scene disintegrated and reformed in front of him. He rushed down from ceiling and found himself watching from the same level as the silvered haired boy who was sprawled across the floor next to him. The young Muraki's face was a picture of wide-eyed fear as he pushed himself backwards, away from the blade that was pointed towards him. A slight cut across his cheek was softly weeping scarlet.
Saki turned his attention to himself. He looked so smug, so confident. His mouth twisted in a sneer of disgust at Muraki's weakness and impending defeat.
He didn't even hear the rifle fire, never mind the approach of the servant behind him. The pain had come so suddenly it just didn't register. He felt the bone jarring shock of hitting the floor first. The sword clattered to the ground by his side.
Saki watched as his body twitched, trying to twist away, but unable to. He remembered the pain like it had only happened yesterday: To him, it had. It had felt so sharp, and yet dull, twisting in his gut, making him want to curl up against it. He couldn't move though. His face contorted in a silent scream. Just before the pain made him blackout, he saw the servant and the smoking barrel and realisation hit him like he had run into a brick wall.
All that followed that was nothing.
***
Dry, chapped lips parted with a sharp intake of breath. Muraki turned from his contemplation of his beloved at the soft signal that Saki had awakened. Casually picking up a small surgical scalpel as he passed, he walked over to the operating table that Saki was on. One third of the table was tilted at an angle, so that Saki was half sitting up right.
Muraki waited patiently for his brother to wake up fully. He wanted him to understand what was happening and to know why. It would be a pointless exercise otherwise.
Saki's eyes blinked open, his dark eyelashes fluttering as he adjusted to the light. Chocolate brown orbs focused on Muraki's face, lighting up with recognition, before widening as a jerk in the pit of his stomach signalled the onset of fear.
"�What...?"
"What am I going to do with you, dear brother?" Muraki muttered, tracing the flat of the scalpel across his cheek. Suddenly, he twisted the knife, so that the blade bit into the soft flesh and left a shallow cut in its wake. Saki called out, the sound little more than a rush of breath. "I'm going to kill you."
Saki knew that he should be afraid, but he wasn't. A feeling of relief washed over him. Death would be a release; he knew that it was long overdue. His time had passed years ago. Muraki would free him from this life once and for all.
The doctor tilted his head as he watched Saki's expression. This wasn't the reaction he'd expected. His eyes narrowed as he realised Saki's thoughts.
"Oh, you don't understand. You see him over there?" Saki turned his head, following the direction Muraki was indicating with the tip of the scalpel. All he could see was a large tank with a shape floating in it. He narrowed his eyes. A head! "His name is Asato Tsuzuki. He is the most extraordinary man I have ever encountered; he possesses the ability to heal himself. You now have his body. After I have killed you, this body will bring you back and I will kill you again. And again. And again."
Muraki smiled grimly as the meaning seeped into Saki's mind. His dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears as the possibility of unending pain and torture filled his heart. Muraki stroked his wrist, which was bound tightly above his head. The silver haired man brushed his fingers over the soft scar tissue there and reminded himself that it wasn't Saki's wrist, it was Tsuzuki's.
"I'll keep doing it until you've been punished for destroying my life. Then I'll kill you forever. I promise," he ran his hand down the length of the bare arm, his other hand joining it when he reached the chest so that he could caress the naked body, tied up and helpless before him. "I owe my beloved his body back in one piece," he smirked.
Saki began to squirm beneath his touch as the feathery strokes shivered through him. He was panicking, and worse, this body that wasn't even his was reacting to the touch. He felt defiled and cheated. He pulled with all his strength against the bounds that held him in place, but they cut into his wrists and ankles, not even giving slightly.
Muraki's hand progressed further down, skimming over the slim waist and sharp hips, through soft dark curls of hair that could almost believably belong to Saki, to the semi-hard penis. He paused, playfully rubbing over the soft length, feeling it harden beneath his fingertips. It would be a waste not to take advantage of the situation. If Tsuzuki would not give him his heart, there was nothing to stop him from taking his body.
Wordlessly, he removed his overcoat and unfastened his trousers. He pushed them down just far enough to free his own arousal, manipulating it in his palm to encourage it to harden. He slipped his fist back and forth over the length as he surveyed the body laid out before him. Tsuzuki's beautiful body. Helpless and waiting for him. Saki was struggling now, blindly pulling a bindings that would not give to anyone but the one who had made them. A thin trickle of scarlet seeped from the groove around his wrist, languidly rolling down the length of his arm. With a small smile, Muraki leaned forward and licked the line of blood away.
Saki found his voice as the wet, warm tongue tickled up his arm and babbled a stream of "no"s, his head thrashing back and forth. It was unclear whether he was objecting to Muraki's touch or the prospect of unending death. Muraki doubted that Saki knew himself. He moved back and gripped his half brother's jaw, easily stilling his movements. Saki stared back up at him, eyes wide and shimmering, a hurt animal. As Muraki leaned forward again, he screwed them up tightly. A soft whine sounded in his throat as he felt the same tongue scrape across the cut on his cheek.
Chuckling lowly to himself, Muraki moved down to the bottom end of the table. With the scalpel, he cut the hair that bound the figure's legs down. Before Saki even had the chance to kick out, he seized his ankles and firmly held them still as he climbed onto the operating table himself. Moving swiftly and efficiently, he forced the long legs to double up so that his knees where pressed against his chest, and positioned himself between his thighs, pushing his weight against the body to keep it still.
He only took the time to prepare himself for his own personal comfort, smearing a mixture a precum and saliva over his length. He sucked on two of his fingers and inserted them into the body beneath him, making sure that there was plenty of lubrication not to harm himself. Then he positioned himself and roughly forced his way into the body in one sharp thrust.
He wasn't surprised to find that Tsuzuki's body wasn't unaccustomed to this kind of treatment; after all, he was a beautiful man with plenty of admirers. However, the body wasn't nearly prepared enough for it not to hurt Saki and a harsh cry was ripped from him as he felt like his body was being torn open. He tried to struggle, but Muraki had him successfully pinned down and he could barely move against the violation.
Muraki pulled out, almost to the tip, and then smoothly pushed back in again. His eyes fell shut as a soft moan fell from his lips. This was how it felt to be inside Tsuzuki, this was how it felt to have him beneath him, willing and submissive. His body heat radiated through him, fed him. Velvety warmth surrounded his erection, tight and encircling. He rocked his hips, feeling the taut muscles already close to wringing orgasm from him. It was too good. He had longed for this from the moment he had laid eyes on the Shinigami.
Muraki's movements took on a regular rhythm, driving deeper with every thrust. As he hit against the prostate, Saki felt a spark shudder through him, he was powerless to stop the groan from escaping his lips as the horrid body that wasn't his reacted to Muraki's actions. He hated it: He hated the feeling as the body's cock jumped in need of attention. He hated it that the pain was fading away and easing into tingling pleasure. He hated it that Muraki was taking advantage of the both of them and that he was powerless to stop it. Most of all, he hated it that he was beginning to enjoy it.
Muraki leaned down blindly, lost in his own fantasy that it was the whole of Tsuzuki beneath him, and forced a kiss against Saki's lips. For a moment, he almost responded to the touch out of instinct, but managed to stop himself. As Muraki tried to gain entry to his mouth, Saki snatched his head away, turning it to the side. Muraki opened his eyes, anger blazing in them briefly. Then he smiled grimly and bit against Saki's jawbone before pulling away.
He began to pound into the body, rough and hard, not caring about the damage he was causing. Saki lay, his head still turned to the side. Sharp cries and pants fell from his lips, a mixture of pain and hateful pleasure. Through watery vision, he watched the head floating in the tank. He wondered if Tsuzuki could see what was happening to his body, what he thought about it.
There was a harsh grunt above him, followed by a long drawn out cry as Muraki came. Saki screwed up his eyes as he felt the body he had been given filling with hot seed. Through his anguish, he wondered if he'd be granted release as well.
The question was answered quickly. He felt an acute pain in his chest as Muraki plunged the scalpel in. The sensation blossomed through every nerve of his body. There was a scrape of metal against bone, the jarring sound shuddering through his body, and echoing through his head. He felt the give as the blade found his heart, a pop, as if the universe had exploded. Then nothing.
***
The concrete floor was chilling against his bare skin. He curled up against it. He ached vaguely, not exactly a pain in any particular place, just a dull sensation. Slowly, his mind woke up and he suddenly jerked awake. Hurriedly, he sat up, hateful limbs that weren't his tangling awkwardly.
He was in a cell. Naked and alone.
He was alive.
Burying his head in unfamiliar hands, he began to sob for his bleak future.
******************************