My Boy

TITLE: My Boy
SERIES: Yami no Matsuei
AUTHOR: Silver Foxfire
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Muraki x Hisoka
WARNINGS: Yaoi Lemon, Violence, Angst, Blood, NCS (rape)
DISCLAIMER: I don\'t own Yami no Matsuei nor do I own the characters in this fic. i\'m just using them for my own diabolical purposes of influencing the world with Yaoi.
NOTE: This is my first Yami fic. I hope you like it. ^_^
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My Boy
By Silver Foxfire


\"Stop! Please! Let me go!\" He cries for me to stop, as he always does.

But he knows I will not. Sometimes I wonder if it is a small relief for him... to HOPE that perhaps one day I will. He prays that I will cease the motion of this blade in his soft, flawless skin, but no... not until my master piece is complete.

I feel a smile creeping across my face as I watch blood well up in the new line across the flesh of his chest. A tapestry is being woven before me and I lick my lips in anticipation, waiting for the day it will be complete. But I must go slowly, ever so patiently. I will not rush, no, that would ruin this picture.

The spells that I spin into each precious cut make it sting and burn, they make him scream and writhe. He battles me now... he knows I want to see his tears, that precious ether. So refuses them, defies me as much as he can. He always does... and it brings me such pleasure when I break that single recalcitrance over and over again...

My hand moves slowly now, watching a new line being carved in the pale flesh and he is unable to move from the sharp silver that bites him as he fights the bonds that hold him perfectly still, for I will not allow any imperfection in my design. To do so would mean a years works wasted. Yes... the excellence of his back... That spell complete as I finish his chest, the last line being made.

I look upon it with a beasts hunger and he knows that I am not yet done. I cannot allow the wounds to become infected. Such a thing would kill my doll, my beautiful boy. He whimpers softly as he sees the bowl, steaming from the near boiling water and I know he can smell the painful, healing herbs. My eye meets his and he trembles as I smile at him, not a soothing loving smile, no, a malicious smile that promises more...

Oh, yes... he screams for me now he she scalding cloth is set on the fresh, angry wounds. My hand is unharmed by the water... I have grown so used to it. My heart quickens as I watch the snow-white fabric turn red as it takes his blood, draws out any vile germs that would dare try to take my toy from me too early.

He sobs as I remove the cooling covering and his soft skin had turned red, almost the same as his blood from the heat. His eyes are so tightly clenched shut as he fights the tears that flow. He hates this weakness just as I love it. He tries to whip his head away as I bow mine and lick at the salty wetness and I slap him viciously, pleased when he stills.

Ah... I\'ve trained him well. I see his wounds do not bleed so much now from the water, cauterized in a way. I release him from his bonds, but he does not attempt to flee.

\"Good boy,\" I murmur as he stays still for me. \"You must be rewarded...\"

He looks so frightened at those words, he knows what I will do as I rise from the bloodied covers of his bed.

\"Rise, Hisoka love...\" I call.

He lets out a choked cry as he is forced to bend as he leaves the bed. He stands before me, head bowed in his shame and his fists clenched tight. His jaw is firm as I touch his cheek, raise his head, his beautiful true emerald eyes shining with anger, tears, and hate.

I kiss him hungrily and he tries his very hardest not to respond to me, but he cannot win, he never can. Oh, he hates it when I make him enjoy it. He despises me when I can force his body to respond. And he feels such animosity as he unwillingly kisses back, his elegantly shaped form moving closer to me.

I pull away abruptly and turn, motioning for him to follow. and he does, just like a good little boy...

We enter my rooms and I smile again, my dolls perfectly set against the wall on my shelves. They are perfect in every way, with their cherub faces and perfect curls. Their glass eyes reflect the liof tof the softly glowing candles and I feel him behind me. Without turning, I tell him to lay on the bed, facing upward and he obeys immediy, fy, fearing my wrath.

I turn towards him, so perfectly unclothed and still, eyes on the ceiling. Ik tok to him, and he looks toward me, just as he should. He watches as I remove the immaculate white shirt and soft gray pants. They are always clean, I refuse to allow a bit of blood to stain me. It would be completely unforgivable if I were to become so tainted.

When I am naked I see him blush as he always does and my own blood quickens within my breast and in my loins. His body responds to mine as I lay over him, being ever so careful not to touch the healing marks on him. No, these I cannot feel yet... not until they are firmly set may I touch them.

He moans softly as I kiss him, my tongue twining with his in a mockery of affection. His arms surround my neck and draw me closer and I chuckle. He fights me so very hard, only to give into me. I do enjoy our games though, his surrender is one of the most pleasurable experiences I have ever had.

I revel in the gasp he gives as I stroke the unwilling erection with a smooth, cool hand. I move my kisses lower, sucking at the long, slender neck. He whimpers again as I lap at a small stream of blood that oozes from one of his injuries. I love the taste of it, sharp and metallic.

I gaze down at him, knowing as soon as the tapestry is complete, he will be my lovely toy forever, and I will have control over him for eternity. He knows it too, and he fears the day that I complete this. A year for me to complete his back and chest, surrounding him. But I am halfway done... I must complete his arms and they will be the most difficult, their designs more ornate and I must watch carefully for his slender muscles and nerves.

He cries out sharply as my tongue gently circles an unharmed nipple, the flesh around it hyper-sensitive. His hands are tangled in my hair, not pulling, not pushing, as if confused as to what he wants. He is confused as I continue to touch him in an almost loving way. He watches me intently as I take a small jar from a bedside table.

I must never take my boy unprepared, never. To do so would break him. It would be far to simple for him to retreat inside himself if I cause such pain. He would be able to deny the pleasure I give him if there is pain to override it. I watch him writhe as the first finger enters the tight sheath of his body. He is always so perfect... my living doll, almost as perfect as the porcelain ones...

\"Ah!\" He cries as the second and third fingers enter and prepare and I stroke that spot within him. \"Please!\"

I smile now... the genuine one as I pull my fingers away and add the cream to my own length and place myself at his entrance, ready to give him the release that he desires. As I push inside he whimpers and wraps himself around me, I hiss as I feel his nails against my shoulders and I bite his throat in silent warning. Almost immediately I feel the sharpness vanish, only feeling the pressure of his fingers.

Then it begins, my thrusts bringing him, pleasure no matter how hard he denies it. He clings to me as I rock deeper and deeper within him. My tongue gently laps at his chest, teasing the nipples and tasting the blood that flows again. He moans and ever so quietly begs me for release, and I give him that small pleasure, stroking his length until I feel it quiver.

Then I order him to come for me as I bring out a silk handkerchief to catch his seed, to prevent it from landing in my carefully set etchings. When I feel him tighten around me, I feel my own climax take me, spilling my essence deep inside him, marking him as my own.

He cries openly as I withdraw and turn to lay against him. I drink his tears as if it were the nectar of the gods and savor each one. I wait until he falls into an exhausted sleep before I remove my glasses and blow out the candles. I pull him close, ignoring the whimper of pain as my arm comes in contact with the marks on his belly. And I as I slowly fall into slumber\'s arms, I whisper, \"You are mine forever, beautiful boy... no matter should you leme ome or I leave you... you will always be my boy...\"

_-^-_ OWARI _-^-_