04:00 pm
![[User Picture]](https://www.scribbld.com/userpic/62942/17088) [Link] |
(FIC) Playing Dress Up
Title: Playing Dress Up
Author: Eumenides
Fandom: Descendents of Darkness
Characters: Muraki & Hisoka
Prompt: 2 - Cross-Dressing
Word Count: 1,415
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. Only the depravity does.
Author’s Notes: For ![[info]](https://www.scribbld.com/img/userinfo.gif) 50kinkyways. Sequel to Caught in the Spider’s Web Muraki has fun at Hisoka’s expense.
Standing in front of the couch in a skimpy outfit, Hisoka’s face burned. Especially with the way Muraki was eying him as he sat on the sofa, legs crossed, a wineglass held in an elegant hand.
“My, my,” the doctor remarked as he sipped his drink, “You look lovelier than I thought you would. The clothing suits your feminine features.”
Angered, Hisoka stomped a high heeled foot. “Like you should talk about looking effeminate!” The only response he got from Muraki was an amused chuckle.
This was the second meeting in the arrangement that the guardian of death had made with the deranged doctor. Hisoka thought that things couldn’t get much worse after their first encounter the week before. But that was before he’d come to Muraki’s home and had the man thrust a skimpy black French maid’s uniform at him, urging him to put it on. The skirt barely hid the silky black underwear that he had been forced to wear. The white thigh high nylons felt strange against his skin, and Hisoka could hardly walk in the high heeled pumps that he’d donned earlier.
Muraki regarded the youthful guardian from his seat on the sofa. For all of Hisoka’s protestations to the contrary, he still behaved much like a spoiled child. On a whim, the man had decided to purchase the outfit for Hisoka, and in seeing it on his young form, Muraki couldn’t have been more pleased. He looked just like one of the dolls that the surgeon had sitting on a shelf in his study. Because that’s what the guardian was to Muraki, a toy for him to use as he saw fit. He’d only agreed to the young man’s self sacrificing arrangement because he sensed that there was still amusement to be found with his previously discarded plaything. The doctor hadn’t given up on his obsession with Hisoka’s violet eyed partner yet.
“Hmm. I have no problems with looking the way that I do. Nor have any of my previous lovers,” the doctor found himself replying.
Hisoka scoffed at the doctor’s words. “You mean people that you didn’t have to rape?”
The guardian of death expected the man to be incensed by this jab. He knew that it was petty, to want to hurt the doctor in such a small way, but he couldn’t prevent it. Hisoka was both surprised and disturbed to see a wide grin spread across the other man’s face.
“Oh, dear Hisoka, you misunderstand my actions entirely. It’s not that I can’t find willing partners. It’s that imposing my will upon someone else is half of the excitement!”
“You are sick!” Hisoka sneered.
“Most of the ones that I take just try to get through the ordeal. But then there are people like you, Hisoka. People who start to yearn for what I give them, even in the moment of their greatest horror. You’re standing here before me,” Muraki said as he gestured with a graceful hand, “waiting for my orders, waiting for me to debauch you again even as you hate me for what I’ve done to you.”
Muraki rose from the couch, striding quickly over to Hisoka, gripping his chin with a strong hand and forcing the young man’s face up to meet his eyes as he glared down at him. “You are the one who has placed yourself within my hands, knowing full well the kind of man that I am. Who is the truly sick one here, Hisoka?”
Shivering in anger, more at himself than at anyone else, Hisoka stood, his face burning with shame. He had no words to answer the doctor, and even if he had, he didn’t trust his voice to speak them without wavering. Muraki smiled widely at the defeated look in the guardian’s eyes as he stepped away from him to retake his seat on the couch. Hisoka watched the grinning man relax against the sofa, his teeth glinting in the light from the lamp.
“Come here, Hisoka. This table is rather dusty.”
Gripping the feather duster in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white, Hisoka toddled over to the coffee table as steadily as he could in his high heeled shoes. As he leaned down to dust, Muraki shook his head, bidding him to cross to the other side of the table in front of him. Embarrassed, Hisoka did as he was told, giving Muraki a nice view of his underwear when he leaned over in front of the man. Face red, Hisoka dusted the pristine glass table, gazing at his haunted reflection on the surface of it.
Hisoka stiffened as he felt a hand begin to stroke his silken clad bottom, a finger moving inward to stroke his cleft. A hand gripped his buttock firmly as questing digits probed his backside through the cloth. A finger poked bluntly at his entrance, pushing fabric uncomfortably inside as he tried to pull away.
Muraki laughed at the movement. “There’s no getting away, Hisoka. Not if you don’t want Tsuzuki to take your place.” The doctor noted how the guardian visibly wilted at his words. “Now turn around. There’s something of mine that warrants your attention.”
Doing as he was instructed, Hisoka turned around, shrinking in on himself as he noted Muraki’s handsome and smirking face, as well as the erection the man was now sporting, tenting his pants. Hisoka knew what was expected of him, but shuddered at the thought of it. Even that time, years ago, he hadn’t been forced to do this to the surgeon. The notion of the man’s flesh passing his lips made him nauseous.
The surgeon canted his head to the side. “What’s wrong, Hisoka? It’s not as though it’s going to bite you, you know. Get on with it before my good mood turns sour.”
Something about the man’s voice when he spoke the last sentence made Hisoka drop unwillingly to his knees between Muraki’s parted thighs. He stared at the bulge in Muraki’s trousers for a few moments before lifting trembling hands to unbutton them. As he slid the zipper down, the trapped flesh jutted out from within white cotton. Resigning himself to his task, Hisoka pulled back the elastic band at the waist, reaching inside to surround the pale hardening flesh with his fingers, pulling it out into the open air.
Still smiling faintly, Muraki relaxed against the sofa, enjoying how Hisoka’s inexperienced mouth worked his flesh. Eyes cracked open, Kazutaka cast his gaze downward to view the sight of his flesh disappearing into the young man’s suckling mouth. Cupping the back of Hisoka’s head, the doctor pushed him down further onto his erection, ignoring the negating muffled sounds, and the way Hisoka flailed, in response. Muraki couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. It wasn’t as though the guardian of death needed to breathe.
Struggling against the vice-like grip his head was in, Hisoka tried to gasp around the thickness in his throat. Though needing no air, the lack of it was still fairly uncomfortable. Realizing that he had no other choice, Hisoka tried to relax his throat against the invasion. As he did so, Muraki’s grip lessened, but still held him firmly. Initially relieved when the man withdrew, he soon realized that this was only so that the doctor could plunge in deeply again. Hisoka braced himself with hands against the surgeon’s thighs as his throat was used with languid strokes. He listened to the heavy breathing of the man holding his head in both his hands, peering up to see Muraki arching back against the couch as he thrust into his mouth.
Muraki found Hisoka’s mouth absolutely delicious. Sure, he lacked skill, but all things improve with time and practice. Kazutaka would make sure that the guardian of death would get a fair amount of it. He looked forward to tutoring him in the act. But for now, the doctor was content to enjoy the fallen innocence of the young man’s soft and clenching throat.
Hisoka heard Muraki utter a choked groan before the man stiffened, filling his mouth with a bitter fluid. The doctor held him firmly, forcing him to swallow the substance. Hisoka managed to do so without retching.
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Hisoka muttered, “Are we done?”
“Not yet,” the doctor answered. “There’s still another game that I want to play.”
Thoroughly ashamed, Hisoka bowed his head, dreading whatever plans Muraki had in mind.
End
Tags: 50kinkyways, fan fiction, muraki, muraki/hisoka, yami no matsuei
|