Tsuzuki walked in silence, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his head bowed very slightly. He had not spoken a word to the doctor since they had abandoned Tatsumi in the shabby little hotel room, and strangely enough, neither had Muraki attempted conversation with him. The man clad in white strode quietly alongside him, half a stride ahead as he led his prize to their destination. For some reason, his silence only served to make Tsuzuki more apprehensive. Why was this eloquent man, for once restraining his attempts at lulling him into a false sense of security, or even worse, at trying to seduce him?

He was startled as the doctor came to an abrupt halt, turning to look at him, visible eye gleaming with a strange light, as if it were somehow absorbing the colour of the flickering street lamp beside him. The shinigami's breath caught in his slender throat, and he tensed as he realised that Muraki was starting to give into temptation. The doctor stepped towards him, cold fingers outstretched to clasp his narrow jaw, tilting his face upwards as if he meant to kiss him. The other arm snaked behind his back, beneath his black trench coat and drew him slowly against that broad, white chest.

"Muraki."

"Shh." The doctor pressed a long finger to his lips, eyes closed, breath fluttering across Tsuzuki's cheek. Tsuzuki wanted to struggle, felt his desperation rising as those thin, bloodless lips grazed his throat, so soft they were like rose petals against him, forcing a shiver along his spine.

Muraki could feel the rapid pulse against his mouth, the very tip of his tongue lapping once at a vein just beneath the surface of the shinigami's flawless skin. His feeling of dominance increased, the knowledge that he had within his power, the ability to reduce the man he held to a torn and empty shell, the capacity to make him fear like no other could. He breathed hotly against the wet skin, the arm around Tsuzuki's back lowering slowly so that his hand could brush against the upper curve of one lean buttock. The smaller man opened his mouth to protest, but the doctor captured his lower lip between forefinger and thumb, leaning back just enough so that he could gaze into those perfect eyes.

"Tsuzuki-san. You made an agreement. You wouldn't want to forfeit your colleague's life, now would you?" His fingers released the tender flesh they held, allowing the Shinigami to reply.

"I. I just thought." Tsuzuki paused, distracted and nervous by the fact that the doctor's face was less than an inch away from his own now, so close in fact, that speaking caused their lips to brush. "I thought that you would rather begin somewhere more.appropriate."

Muraki regarded him in silence, raising one hand so sharply that Tsuzuki recoiled as if he expected to be slapped for simply making a suggestion. Instead, the hand lightly swept a few errant strands of hair away from his cheekbone, so gently it was as if he was a priceless porcelain doll. He vaguely recalled that Muraki had always prized such things. If only he knew how much more precious HE was to the homicidal doctor that held him so firmly.

"You are right of course, Tsuzuki-san. I want tonight to be perfect, and that cannot begin with crude advances in the middle of the street. Come, let us continue."

Tsuzuki withheld his sigh of relief, not wanting to risk offending the doctor. Who knew what he would do if provoked? Muraki released him, but not entirely. He kept one arm looped about his waist so that the Shinigami was forced to walk pressed up against him. Tsuzuki found it rather awkward to walk in such a manner, particularly when the hand at his waist began to roam, finding its way beneath his white shirt, stroking and caressing in such a way that the bridge of his nose and his cheeks were flushed with subtle colour. His body began to tremble, half in repulsion and half in desperation for more attention. Muraki's breathing would occasionally increase in volume, and at such times the hand would grip him so roughly he almost winced.

Before long they arrived at a house of considerable size, cut off from the neighbouring buildings by thick clusters of trees upon either side, the gardens full of thorny bushes laden with red roses in bloom. Somehow, Tsuzuki realised, he had expected no less of the doctor, but finding that his presumptions were correct made him feel no better as he was led towards the front door. The urge to turn and run was becoming harder to resist with every passing second, for once inside, he knew there was no chance of escape.

Muraki let him go, just long enough to slip a key from the pocket of his coat. The temptation was all Tsuzuki required to instinctively turn on his heel and run. Maybe he could get back to Tatsumi and free him somehow. Maybe Hisoka and Watari had found him already, and he was here needlessly. If he been of clearer mind at this point, he would have realised how desperate his thoughts were. He would also have been horrified at his own actions, risking Tatsumi in such a way, but not a lot was making sense, and thus he followed his primary urges. For all of five steps anyway.

Muraki was upon him almost immediately, dragging him to the ground and wrestling his arms behind his back. The larger, stronger man pinned him there with little effort, keeping him there by pressing a knee into his back.

"Tsuzuki-san." the doctor's tone spoke volumes. Though the captive could not see his face, he could easily picture the gloating expression. "You agreed. You would not go back on your word and be the cause of yet another death...would you?"

Muraki felt his prisoner freeze as he spoke these last words, heard the Shinigami's breath catch in his throat, and then the inevitable relaxing of all his muscles, as if his limbs were lifeless and he'd lost whatever reserves of strength he had once possessed. Muraki was pleased with this reaction, for in his eyes it was a sure sign that breaking and manipulation would be an easy task. Oh how he wanted to see this man broken.

"That is better. Now let us go inside."

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