Akai (Red)

“Have you ever read any fairy tales, boy?”

Though the voice that delivered the words was soft, he could still detect the hidden savagery within them. The hand resting lightly over his neck moved down over his right shoulder as the doctor leaned down closer towards him, lips coming to rest against the shell of his ear as he spoke again, apparently taking Hisoka’s silence as his answer. “I have one to tell you of then.” He felt the older man’s breath brush over his skin, hot and moist and barely kept himself from shivering.

He’d rather not let Muraki realize that the setup and the careful, light, sensual touches were upsetting him more at the moment, than the fact he didn’t have any clue where he was or that the possibility for rescue was most certainly a far off prospect. The hand resting lightly over his right shoulder moved down slowly over his chest as Muraki moved to settle himself down behind him, another arm moving to come around his waist drawing him closer. Suppressing another tremor that threatened to run though his muscles, he tried to close his mind against the darkness pressing in on him, while seeking something to distract himself from the light touch of the doctor’s fingers over his shirt, he realized Muraki had continued speaking.

“--there is generally a widespread agreement that Red Riding Hood arose from an oral tradition that predated the first written version by Charles Perrault in 1697. Though it is said that \"Le Petit Chaperon Rouge\" is unquestionably one of the many stories that most faithfully preserves the oral tradition of Red Riding Hood.”

Hisoka didn’t understand half of what the doctor was talking about, but he’d rather let the man talk than give him any cause to decide that he’d rather forego talking and just resume the physical torture that he near always did when they ran into each other. An involuntary shudder ran through him as the fingers that had been running over the buttons of the shirt he was wearing, succeeded in undoing three of them and move to lightly caress the delicate structure of his collarbone. A frigid blackness again threatened to overwhelm him and he closed his eyes, attempting to reinforce his mental shielding to keep from feeling that and the sensual amusement that seemed to follow with Muraki’s words.

The flow of words halted as a small sound interrupted the seemingly rehearsed speech, the hand resting over his collarbone withdrew and he felt it as the doctor turned to apparently look back at the doorway. A flash of something that came and went too fast for Hisoka to label came from Muraki, the darkness seeming to leave and return nearly as fast, making him wonder what was going on, but not willing to risk anymore bodily contact than was strictly necessary to satisfy his curiosity.

A small sigh escaped as the arm looped around his waist left. He almost turned then, but the older man had not moved from behind him and if he turned, he would be in a perfect position for the other man to embrace him again. He was distracted from his disjointed thoughts by a small mew and a quiet amused chuckle from behind him. “It would seem I have been remiss in my manners, boy.”

Hisoka blinked in confusion at that sentence, running it through his mind again, to make sure he didn’t mistake what he just heard. Shifting his weight, he turned to look at the pale man. “What?” The word escaped without his actual meaning to voice it, most likely dragged from him by the statement and the fact that Muraki was holding a small white feline, idly running long pale fingers over thuallually pale fur between its ears. The image was disconcerting to say the least.

His confusion apparently amused the doctor more, because he chuckled again, while running the hand down over the feline’s back slowly, causing it to purr loudly and arch into the touch. “Asato-chan here has reminded me that you’ve most likely not eaten in quite awhile.”

Hisoka managed not to show his disgust at Muraki’s gall at using Tsuzuki’s first name to name the feline, but then he ran the remaining sentence through his mind and his stomach clenched at what he most likely was about to suggest. Muraki stood easily, the feline following him as he moved towards the table, the smell giving away what rested on it. “I have taken the liberty of preparing something to eat and drink for you..”

He barely kept from losing what did remain of what he had eaten before his kidnapping, his stomach tied into a hard knot with the effort not to turn away and throw up. He lifted a hand to his head, as the dimly lit room seemed to spin around him, a light-headedness making his muscles feel too weak to hold himself up in his current sitting position any longer.

He heard a faint sound of glass touching another glass and looked up to see the dim light frame a thick dark looking liquid running into a small glass. The room spun again as his mind caught up with what he was seeing. Blood, most likely from another victim they hadn’t found out about yet.

The room darkened as he lowered his arms to hold himself up, throat dry and mind currently screaming at the thought of Muraki actually forcing that on him. The thought of actually having to get any closer to it caused his arms to shudder once, twice, before spilling him back down onto the bed, complete oblivion embracing him in welcomed dark arms.