Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1055109.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Loveless
  Relationship:
      Agatsuma_Soubi/Aoyagi_Ritsuka
  Character:
      Agatsuma_Soubi, Aoyagi_Ritsuka
  Additional Tags:
      Mental_Coercion, Stockholm_Syndrome, Emotional_Manipulation
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-22 Words: 10093
****** Lifelines ******
by Yubari_(aquila_black)
Summary
     This story exists because someone on the kmeme requested IC Soubi/
     Ritsuka non-con; a rape scenario where Soubi stopped being able to
     restrain himself and made Ritsuka have sex with him. The existing
     fill was good, but heavily on the side of "Soubi is horrified that
     his thoughts ever go in this direction because he'd never actually DO
     it." It didn't explore the possibility that Soubi might be capable of
     this. I think you can guess what I've done.
     Note: The OP wanted Ritsuka to be okay with Soubi after the fact. If
     you find that premise triggering, this is not the story for you.
Soubi had filled Ritsuka’s thoughts for months; ever since their first
encounter, their first afternoon together, their first kiss, and their first
spell battle, all of which had taken place the same day. He still waited for
Ritsuka outside the gates of his Elementary school every afternoon, unless
Ritsuka ordered him not to. Ordered – as if Soubi were some sort of pet. 
 
Sometimes, Ritsuka wondered if it wasn’t the other way around, if Soubi’s whole
“you’re my master” thing salved over the fact that Soubi did as he pleased.
Soubi lied to him and sometimes omitted critical information. He visited
whenever and then would occasionally vanish for days at a time. That never
failed to drive Ritsuka to distraction, so Ritsuka seriously doubted he had the
power in this relationship.
 
His protests didn’t even keep Soubi from hugging and kissing him, and he didn’t
know what he’d do if Soubi ever didn’t stop there. Ritsuka thought that was
bound to happen, sooner or later. Hadn’t Soubi promised to take Ritsuka’s ears?
The thought of that should alarm him, repulse him. It should have made him tell
Soubi to stay away from him for good, and find out whether Soubi would ignore
that just because he didn’t want to hear it.
 
But Ritsuka didn’t. And instead, the more he thought about it, the more his
sense of this is scary and inappropriate solidified into something more like
(nervous) anticipation. It drew his thoughts away from the vortex they’d formed
around not being the “real” Ritsuka, his expectation of disappearing, and his
guilt at disappointing his mother by not being gone yet. There was one person,
at least, who would remember him when he was gone. Soubi gave him his first
kiss, and he … intended to wait for god knew how long to sleep with him,
because Ritsuka was underage?
 
That was crazy. But when Ritsuka thought about that at night, under the covers,
he could feel himself getting hard. It wasn’t even – he wouldn’t be thinking
about this if Soubi hadn’t said such weird things to him! If he didn’t know
that this adult was -. Wanted to -. With him. Dammit.
 
He’d actually caught himself looking at Soubi and thinking I bet the real
reason you aren’t doing it now is because you wouldn’t even fit. And then had
to turn away, because it was that or find a way to (not) explain why his face
was burning.
 
His mind kept going back to the time he’d pierced Soubi’s ears, warm skin under
the pads of his fingers, the alarming “CHNK” of the machine driving sharp metal
right through Soubi. Ritsuka had been absolutely in awe that Soubi would trust
him to leave scars that he’d have for the rest of his life – would want that
enough to bring Ritsuka a piercing gun and talk him into using it. And then
would actually wear earrings to call attention to what they’d done. It made
Ritsuka almost believe it when Soubi said “you own me,” even as the whole idea
made him queasy.
 
He didn’t want to own Soubi. He wanted Soubi to own himself. But he also
couldn’t deny the electric shock that hearing Soubi call him “master” put
through him. A part of him didn’t hate it, and he hated that. It was wrong.
Really, there were a lot of things about Soubi that were wrong, and all of them
put a weird mix of feelings in the pit of his stomach – pity and anger, pain
and anxiety, empathy and fascination. And other stuff that he wanted to believe
hadn’t been there before Soubi turned up. Stuff that would solidify into I like
this. Don’t change, if he wasn’t careful. Stuff that would make him a bad
person by his own measure.
 
Getting mad when Soubi kowtowed to him was still easy, but … more because he
should. Being yielded to made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want to know what
Soubi would do, or what would happen, if he just accepted it. He couldn’t
accept it. He wasn’t a – a king, or whatever. And even if he were, people were
supposed to own themselves! Stupid Soubi.
 
Stupid Soubi, who looked at him with admiration. Not just kindness, or love, or
things he could feel safe around. There was always a blatantly sexual offer in
his eyes, in his touch, in his reluctance to let go of Ritsuka … in the way
Ritsuka’s wrists still felt from being held, when he was trying (and failing)
to yank them out of Soubi’s grip. It shouldn’t make him warm inside, Ritsuka
thought, but it did.
 
It was a lot more bearable, scary parts and all, than not being loved.
 
 
Which is how, when Soubi let himself soundlessly in through the window, he
found Ritsuka with his eyes screwed shut and his hands under the covers,
stroking himself. Soubi stopped dead for a long instant listening to Ritsuka
breathe in the dark. He glanced at the window from the corner of his eye, fixed
his gaze on the boy, and then looked one more time behind him at the empty
night.
 
Finally, graceful and silent as ever, he advanced and lowered himself into a
sitting position beside Ritsuka’s bed.
 
After a while, Ritsuka’s eyelids opened a little, and then opened all the way
in alarm as he jerked his hands out of his bedclothes. “Sou-aaah, what are you
doing here?” He panicked at a low whisper.
 
“I wanted to see you,” Soubi soothed, his voice like water. “Sometimes it is
impossible to believe that such a person can exist when I’m only thinking of
you, Ritsuka.”
 
Ritsuka could still feel his heart pounding in his ears from the shock of
finding someone right there next to his bed while he was –! but that was
subsiding a little. It was so mortifying that if he could have just hidden
under the covers and expected Soubi to show himself out, he would have.
 
He didn’t think he could talk about this. But Soubi’s words had brought things
back into perspective a little. It was still just … Soubi, being stupid and
needy and turning up where he wasn’t wanted. Even as that thought calmed him
down it was his room, after all, and what he did in here should be his
business, Ritsuka felt a stab of pity.
 
He didn’t like looking down on Soubi, just because Soubi let him, encouraged
that, and idolized him openly. Soubi offered no justifications and no hedging:
 I wanted to see you. You amaze me. Ritsuka shook his head in the dark and sat
up.
 
“Look. You may not need any privacy, ever, but I do. I don’t want you coming
into my room anymore at night. If I have to make that an order to let you know
that I mean it, I will. But I’d rather you just respect my preference.
Understand?”
 
Soubi ducked his head low. “If I’ve displeased you, you should punish me,
Ritsuka.”
 
“No,” Ritsuka hissed, “quit saying that because it’s wrong.”
 
“It’s … wrong?” Soubi repeated.
 
“Yes! It’s wrong. I’m not going to hurt you just because I’m mad at you, so
stop telling me to.”
 
“But -” Soubi did not argue with him beyond that one, stray word. He dropped
the subject and said “yes, master.”
 
That, as far as Ritsuka was concerned, was not an improvement. “How many times
am I going to have to tell you to stop calling me master, before I get it
through your head that I don’t like it?” He said.
 
Soubi cringed. “I’m sorry, Ritsuka. It’s just – I don’t have any other way to
tell you.” That didn’t sound like the intended conclusion for his sentence, but
Soubi’s teeth clamped together and nothing else came out.
 
Ritsuka sat there for a long moment watching Soubi fight with himself before
asking, “tell me what?”
 
“That you’re … safe with me, because you control me. Nothing in this body knows
how to be your equal. Your saying that I am terrifies me.” He said.
 
Ritsuka’s eyes bored into him with sheer, frustrated incomprehension. “Why?”
 
Why aren’t you my equal? would have struck Soubi as a nonsense question, so
what he heard was Why shouldn’t I expect this of you? What are you scared of?
and that’s what he struggled to answer. “Because … making me submit to you
protects you from everything in me that’s sharp, powerful, and cruel;
everything I point at your enemies. I want you to be able to drop me to the
floor with a well-placed word. When I come into your room and find you playing
at sex, it’s all I can do not to –” and his teeth shut again with an audible
click.
 
“Get out,” Ritsuka whispered.
 
“Make me fear you. Please, Ritsuka,” Soubi begged.
 
“No. Just get out.”
 
Soubi’s heart was pounding. He searched his sacrifice’s face with desperate
eyes. “I can’t,” he said.
 
“You lying bastard,” Ritsuka hit him half-heartedly. “I’m kicking you out of my
room!”
 
Soubi jumped a little and pinned Ritsuka’s arms to his sides. Ritsuka’s tail
was bristling with fury, he was taking a deep breath as if to yell at him, but
Soubi spoke first. He said quietly, “if you’d wanted anyone else to know I was
here, you would have woken the neighborhood up hours ago. When you first saw
me, maybe. You don’t want to have to explain me to your mother. Do you.” It
wasn’t a question.
 
Ritsuka twitched his shoulder irritably. “Let go of me,” he said, the edge in
his voice perfectly audible.
 
“If I do, will you hit me again?” Soubi asked.
 
“No!” Ritsuka said, before what Soubi must have meant caught up with him.
 
Soubi took a deep breath and stilled. His face twitched infinitesimally. “This
weapon’s only purpose is to obey,” he murmured to himself, and his hands
relaxed against Ritsuka’s forearms. “I’m sorry, Ritsuka,” he said again,
sounding subdued and a little breathless, “Sometimes your orders are difficult
for me to follow, but. I’ll … be going.” He stood up stiffly and started
walking to the window.
 
Ritsuka watched him, unintimidated. “You’re a person,” he said, to Soubi’s
receding back.
 
“I …” The tip of Soubi’s boot was on the railing when he stopped and said, “you
don’t want me making my own choices right now.”
 
“I want that all the time,” Ritsuka countered, snuggling back under the covers,
“because you’re a person.”
 
No. A tremor went through Soubi’s whole body. He reached out and caught himself
with both hands on the window frame just as he started pitching forward. But
this was very bad. Without his restraints, he was dangerous. Without the chain
holding him to his sacrifice, he’d die.
 
Closing the window behind him, Soubi turned back, crossed the room, and kissed
Ritsuka square on the lips. He gripped Ritsuka to him as the boy stiffened,
rolling his hips against him with a frightening, predatory lust. “I am,” he
rumbled, clamping a hand against Ritsuka’s open mouth as he wrenched his own
mouth off him, “deeply regretting your having said that.” And before Ritsuka
could try to respond, he kissed him again.
 
Ritsuka was thrashing and trying ineffectually to push him off with trapped
arms. Then his struggles began to subside, each shove weaker than the last.
They’d done this before, in one form or another – embraced in a way that
Soubi’s body caged Ritsuka’s. Soubi held his sacrifice right through the
covers, as tightly as he would have held onto a raft in the open ocean. Ritsuka
was gasping when he stopped kissing him.
 
“Soubi, you’re scaring me,” Ritsuka managed to say, as Soubi’s hands roamed
over his body, touching him as familiarly as ever but a little too hard. Soubi
nuzzled him for a moment without answering, absorbing the smell of his
sacrifice’s hair, the softness of his skin, and the fact that for once, he
could have whatever he wanted.
 
“I know,” he finally said, without a trace of his usual subservience. “It can’t
be helped. You feel … better than I could have ever imagined.” Soubi worked his
shoes off as he pushed against Ritsuka, pinning his small, thin body against
the bed.
 
“Soubi, no, really. I don’t want –” Ritsuka had gone from verbal objections
actually looking afraid. Soubi stroked long patterns with the tips of his
fingers over Risuka’s face.
 
“It’s okay. You don’t have to want. System expansion,” he added, using his base
spell for securing a perimeter to lock the window and the door. Tenderly, he
kissed Ritsuka’s exposed throat.
 
“Don’t use your magic on me. That’s an order!” Ritsuka said, voice slightly
raised.
 
“Shh,” Soubi admonished calmly. “You can’t order me right now. But I’m not
going to.”
 
“WH-why can’t I?” Ritsuka asked.
 
“You disavowed your hold over me at an … inopportune moment. It will mend. But
I need to stay close so that, when I’m exhausted, you can subjugate me.” Soubi
said. His voice was flat and distant but his skin was warmer than Ritsuka had
ever felt him. Without the slightest hesitation, Soubi plunged an arm under the
covers and started exploring Ritsuka’s body under his pajamas.
 
“What if I don’t – ah – want to?” Ritsuka whispered, tensing against Soubi at a
particularly intimate caress.
 
“Then this unit has no purpose. I will have to kill myself immediately.” Soubi
said, shrugging out of his long coat and letting it fall carelessly near the
foot of the bed.
 
“That’s not funny, Soubi!” Ritsuka snapped at him.
 
“I’m not joking,” Soubi said.
 
Ritsuka couldn’t make out whether he was lying or not. For once, he hoped Soubi
was. “Is there … hahh,” he tried to force himself to think, “any way I can keep
you from going through with this?”
 
Soubi lifted his head from the wet trail he’d been sucking down Ritsuka’s neck
and seemed to consider that for all of a second. “Not that I know of.”
 
“I don’t want you to!” Ritsuka protested at a low hiss, as Soubi got under the
covers with him. “Don’t you care?”
 
“Always,” Soubi said. “But I’m not going to stop. I’m sorry, Ritsuka.”
 
“Sorry isn’t good enou-mmh!” Ritsuka started to say, before Soubi covered his
mouth again.
 
“I’m sure it isn’t,” Soubi acknowledged, with something approaching sympathy.
He pulled upwards on Ritsuka’s pajama top, and reflexively, Ritsuka clamped his
arms against his chest, trying to keep it on. Soubi paused to stroke his hair.
“If putting up a fight is important to you, then do. I’m not going to punish
you for resisting, but being overcome will hurt more than it has to and you
might end up tied down.”
 
Ritsuka glared at him. Setting his underdeveloped muscles against Soubi’s would
be humiliating and wear him out quickly. His body had been responding to his
feelings, not to anything that would actually work. Realizing that was
unpleasant.
 
A moment passed, and then when Soubi tried to take Ritsuka’s clothes off again
Ritsuka let him. Or rather, he didn’t stop him, even when Soubi reached between
his thin legs and touched his balls.
 
Ritsuka didn’t want to admit he was terrified. But he was so tense that his
muscles felt like springs attached to wooden boards. This was actually
happening, and try as he might to get his mind to work, that’s where it stayed
– wrapping slowly around the realization that he was powerless.
 
Almost. Unwilling to do what it would take to try to disrupt this; to make a
scene or call for help, and find out if other adults could swoop in and keep
him from being raped. The best case scenario would involve people walking in on
them and his wanting to die of embarassment, but ... would anyone notice or
care if there was more fuss and yelling in the dead of night coming from the
Aoyagi residence? Did he have what it took to hurt Soubi, even to keep Soubi
from hurting him? Ritsuka couldn’t explain why knowing that he didn’t feel like
fighting for himself made tears well up in his eyes. It hurt, though, whatever
it was. It hurt so much that his chest ached with it, even though Soubi hadn’t
really done anything to him. Yet. As with anything else he couldn’t stop, was
scared of, and had no control over, the anticipation was all bad.
 
Soubi gathered him up as he sniffled quietly, bare skin against skin. When did
Soubi take the rest of his clothes off? Lost in himself as he was, Ritsuka
hadn’t noticed. He didn’t want to snuggle, it felt wrong, but he also didn’t
want Soubi to stop trying to comfort him. Ritsuka rested his head against
Soubi’s chest with his eyes closed and felt his fighter’s heartbeat. “This
isn’t … how I thought it would be. For us.” He said quietly, voice almost calm
except for the little, shuddering breath that interrupted him when he paused.
 
Soubi ran a hand over the many bones in Ritsuka’s back as he held him. “It’s
not what I wanted for you,” he said. “But I can’t hold myself back.”
 
Ritsuka clung to him as though Soubi could protect him. As though Soubi weren’t
the very thing he needed protecting from, this time.
 
Soubi kissed him again on top of his head between his furry ears. “I wasn’t
lying when I said I couldn’t get properly hard from thinking about a child,” he
said lowly, “I’m going to need your help with the mechanics of this.”
 
Ritsuka looked at him without understanding.
 
Soubi swallowed and took a deep breath before getting off the bed and saying,
“please kneel.”
 
He had Ritsuka by the wrist, so Ritsuka’s arm extended in Soubi’s direction
before he’d actually decided what to do. It pulled him mostly upright, and
after a second’s hesitation, he pushed the covers aside and lifted himself
forward on his knees, facing Soubi.
 
Soubi was wracked by the oddest convulsion, as if he were trying not to throw
up. Then he took Ritsuka’s head between his hands and pulled him towards his
half-hard erection.
 
Ritsuka’s neck and shoulders tensed as the body memory of having his head
ducked under cold water by his mother overcame him for a second, but this only
succeeded in moving all of him closer to Soubi. Tentatively, Ritsuka put a
small hand on the ridge of Soubi’s hipbone. He didn’t want to “help.” But if
resisting wasn’t going to get him out of this, being pushed around like a
ragdoll offended his sensibilities.
 
He couldn’t really look at Soubi’s cock from here (not that he would have
wanted to). He was too close. And the angle was awkward for looking up at
Soubi’s face. Trying made his eye muscles hurt. While he was figuring that out,
the head of Soubi’s erection pressed against his lips. It was warm and supple.
Ritsuka recoiled, but failed to jerk his head back. Soubi’s hands were
unyielding. He’d hardly moved. Trying not to think about what he was doing,
Ritsuka parted his teeth a little to press his tongue against it.
 
Ritsuka heard Soubi take a sharp breath as he did that, watched the shadows on
him change as his abdominal muscles contracted, and felt the slight tremor that
went through his hands.
 
“Ritsuka …” Soubi said, and his voice was full of emotion, plea and prayer and
an indescribable – he wants this, Ritsuka realized. Not because I want it. Not
because he thinks I want him to say that he wants it. This is … something Soubi
actually wants. For himself. For the first time since Ritsuka met Soubi, he
could believe that. Ritsuka opened his mouth farther and licked over the head.
 
Soubi shivered again, and the long muscles in his legs shifted but he stayed
motionless, except for the (suddenly pronounced) rise and fall of his ribcage.
 
I get it, Ritsuka thought. When Soubi doesn’t submit, he dominates, and he
wasn’t made for this. For once, though, he’s not performing for me. Ritsuka
huffed air through his nose at his fighter’s obtuseness, but he sucked him.
 
Soubi stroked Ritsuka’s hair and ears. He bucked into his mouth with
enthusiasm, but mostly avoided choking Ritsuka. The motion became harder to
take as his erection swelled. Ritsuka opened his mouth wider and tried to hold
onto what little resolve he’d managed to scrape together. The corners of his
eyes watered. A thin line of drool was starting to trail down his chin, until
he wiped it off with a free hand – with the hand that wasn’t holding onto
Soubi’s hip, hard enough to be getting tired. He gagged at a thrust that
managed to push in farther than any of the ones before it, and gasped empty air
as Soubi pulled out.
 
Soubi let him catch his breath. Fully hard now, he picked through the things on
Ritsuka’s bedside table, looking for a substance that could be improvised into
lubricant. No such luck. He then went through his own coat’s pockets with a
sigh, and found … a nearly new tube of lip balm. It wasn’t ideal, but it was
inert and non-toxic. He smooshed part of the paraffin wax between his fingers
and coated them with it. Then he kissed Ritsuka on the mouth again and laid him
out on the bed by hugging him to his chest and laying down on top of him.
 
“Undisciplined as I feel right now, I’m humbled by your effect on me,” Soubi
breathed, when he broke off the kiss.
 
Ritsuka had no idea what to say to that. How do you even … and his insides
braced as Soubi moved his legs apart.
 
“This will be easier if I relax you,” Soubi said, dipping his head low against
Ritsuka’s groin and licking the tender skin behind his balls. The effect was
electric, intensely pleasurable, but Ritsuka jumped and tried to get away from
his tongue. While Soubi wasn’t expecting that, his reflexes were good. He
caught Ritsuka’s hips and held him in place.
 
“No,” Ritsuka moaned, feeling himself getting hard again, “suh-stop, you don’t
have to. Y-you can take my ears with-out …”
 
Soubi paused to look up at him.
 
“I don’t … want to be any more confused about this than I already am,” Ritsuka
said in a rush. “I don’t want it to feel nice, on top of feeling bad.”
 
“But –” lick “it’s unpleasant to be opened –” lick “without being stimulated
first –” suck “if you haven’t been trained to enjoy that.” Soubi said.
 
“Dammit Soubi, why won’t you listen to me?” Ritsuka gasped, at another long,
wet lick that made all his nerve endings tingle. “It’s okay if it hurts. What’s
not okay is … the way you keep messing with my head and trying to … make me
feel whichever way you want me to feel about it!”
 
Soubi tilted his head to one side, puzzled. “But how else will you know that
I’m not doing this because I want you to suffer? I love you, Ritsuka.”
 
Not enough to not rape me, apparently, Ritsuka thought to himself, but he
pushed that thought aside. “I know. Okay? I know you’d make this feel nice if I
let you. I bet you could get me so high from being jerked off that I won’t care
I’m losing my ears, and I won’t care that I didn’t want to. But don’t. That
scares me. ”
 
Another pause. “You … want this to hurt.” Soubi said, experimentally, as if he
wasn’t sure he was hearing right.
 
“No,” Ritsuka corrected. “But if you’re going to use me, I don’t want to be
protected from feeling it. Or distracted. Or numbed.”
 
“I don’t understand,” Soubi said. “But I’ll accept this. Try to relax as much
as you can.”
 
Ritsuka’s legs had mostly pulled back together in his frantic thrashing. Soubi
spread them apart again and reached a hand up against his hole. He brushed
against the outside of it to get Ritsuka used to the sensation and give him a
chance to remember to breathe. Then he pressed long fingers past the ring of
muscle with an unyielding pressure that it opened for, and pushed them in and
partway out several times.
 
Soubi was the epitome of attentiveness. He ran his other hand over the muscles
in Ritsuka’s thighs in a way that coaxed some of the tension out of them. He
stretched the boy skillfully and slowly, even though his erection was straining
from the lack of contact. Ritsuka was making tiny sounds in the back of his
throat – erotic, lost, and pained. Despite his promise, Soubi kissed his throat
and chest. The tip of his tongue traced the ridges and dips of Ritsuka’s ribs
as Soubi applied the rest of the makeshift lube to his erection and positioned
himself.
 
“How do you know it’s not going to rip me open or something?” Ritsuka asked,
starting to hyperventilate a little in the dark as he felt the hardness of
Soubi’s cock against his body.
 
Soubi managed to suppress a smile. This from a child who’d pulled a fork out of
his own hand while insisting he was fine. But … it was a frightening thing to
be worried about. “You won’t break,” he said dryly, and without further
reassurance, he pushed in.
 
Despite having prepared Ritsuka conscientiously, the first thrust was slow and
uncomfortable, tightness vying with stretch and losing by centimeters. Pulling
out was almost as difficult, but Soubi was familiar with this. After a few
agonizing thrusts that had tears seeping out of Ritsuka’s eyes, the boy’s
muscles stopped trying to squeeze him to death, and the slide became easier.
 
“This hurts a lot,” Ritsuka whispered.
 
“Mm-hm,” Soubi agreed, stilling his rhythm when he was fully sheathed. “But
your body’s starting to work with me. If you let that happen, it will hurt
less.”
 
Ritsuka didn’t answer.
 
Soubi made a small movement that Ritsuka could feel from inside. “You must love
me more than I’d guessed to let me do this to you.” Soubi said.
 
“You told me I didn’t have a choice,” Ritsuka countered.
 
“I wouldn’t do that. A sacrifice always has choices. Not necessarily the ones
they want, but … you’re not like me.” Soubi said.
 
Ritsuka made a small noise in the back of his throat as Soubi pulled out, and
pushed into him again. He wasn’t about to let Soubi steer the conversation or
manipulate his thoughts any more than he could help, so he ignored that
entirely. “How long have you wanted to do this with me?” Ritsuka asked.
 
“Wanted?” Soubi echoed uncertainly. “I don’t know. It wasn’t relevant?”
 
“Well, it’s relevant now, because I’m curious,” Ritsuka said, starting to be
able to focus on something other than pain as the pain lessened.
 
“Mm,” Soubi murmured, eyes half-closed. “Actually, when I fantasize, it’s
generally about your doing terrible things to me. That’s more in keeping with
how fighters are used. But this ...” He smiled in the dark. “I wanted you more
than anything tonight, exactly like this.”
 
“Like – ah – like how?” Ritsuka wanted to know.
 
“Spread out under me,” Soubi answered, in a voice that sent small chills down
Ritsuka’s spine. “Hot and tight, frightened and suffering. Beautiful and
seemingly helpless. When you’re like this I can almost pretend that you’re
mine, instead of the other way around. And that is a distortion that cannot
exist. It caresses my insides with tongues of fire.”
 
“I don’t get you at all,” Ritsuka said. “Why would you want that?”
 
“Because it is a fighter’s eternal curse to forfeit what they long for the
most, just by reaching for it,” Soubi said. “When I close my hand around you,
your pleasure at my touch disappears. And yet I hold you to me because your
presence is so necessary that I cannot bear it when you pull away. You drive me
crazy, Ritsuka.”
 
Ritsuka bit back a noise as Soubi pushed into him again. He’d been managing to
mostly think about the conversation and avoid what Soubi was doing to his body,
but something was shifting inside of him. He was feeling kind of – sick, it’s
making me sick, Ritsuka told himself. But that wasn’t really it. He tried for a
more specific explanation. My stomach’s clenching because I want to throw up.
Or … dizzy. All this back and forth is making me dizzy. But it was like
something inside him had gone from being overwhelmed, through indifference, and
was nudging towards eagerness.
 
I can’t get off on this, Ritsuka thought, in numb shock, as if asserting it was
impossible would make any difference. It doesn’t even feel good, he added, but
apparently it didn’t have to. Or more precisely, the same motion that felt
awful ten minutes ago, his body was actively looking forward to now.
 
Ritsuka forgot all about not feeling like fighting Soubi and suddenly tried to
get out from under him, not caring how pathetic it must look, not caring who he
was or who was doing this to him, just heedlessly striving to make it stop,
now. They scuffled on the bed in complete silence, sheets rustling in the dark.
Soubi pulled Ritsuka’s hips against his pelvis all the harder to balance the
stroke – out all at once, in all at once. Deftly, he used his body to turn
aside Ritsuka’s heels and palms. What would have been a simple, everyday motion
if Ritsuka had been alone in bed (scooting up, scooting out) was unattainable
in the small pockets of leverage Soubi was allowing him. It was no defense at
all.
 
Ritsuka took a huge breath to yell, but Soubi kissed him in such a way that the
sound barely got past their mouths, and then kissed him deeply and hard. At
first, Ritsuka was trying to push Soubi’s tongue back out of his mouth, but
when Soubi fucked into him again he both … bit him, and sucked Soubi’s tongue
in a way that made it obvious that his body wasn’t entirely under his control.
 
Soubi licked his cheek, leaving blood on Ritsuka’s face, and hugged him tight;
body against body. Ritsuka’s fingernails scored thin red lines down his
shoulder and arm, but he also needed something to hold onto. As Soubi sped up,
Ritsuka wrapped his arms around Soubi’s back, feeling the motion through both
their bodies. He let the tension build in him because reacting against it just
seemed to give the feeling more fuel, and hoped against hope that Soubi would
finish before he embarrassed himself by coming while being raped.
 
He should have been relieved at a sudden liquid feeling closely followed by the
softening of Soubi’s erection. He wasn’t. It was a lot easier to tell himself
what he thought he should feel than it was to actually respond that way, so
what overtook him next was a tremendous yearning for more sex. Maybe just a
little more. (However much it would take to get off.) Ritsuka had hated himself
before, but rarely with so much immediacy and severity.
 
Soubi kissed him again on the forehead with something akin to his usual
reverence, and said, “you communicate better and more honestly than anyone I
have ever known.” He held him for an endless moment, and then rolled off him.
 
Given the circumstances, being complimented felt unutterably weird, though it
did cut short Ritsuka’s internal rant about having a shallow, disgusting body.
Ritsuka didn’t even try to get up immediately. He didn’t want to know what that
would feel like. The air cooled his skin as he followed Soubi around his room
with his eyes.
 
Soubi was examining a school project Ritsuka had left out on his desk, a half-
finished model of a building that he still had to add outer walls to and paint.
He picked up a roll of duct tape and Ritsuka felt an unaccountable wave of
foreboding until Soubi put it back down without comment. Soubi looked around in
both directions with an air of really noticing his surroundings for the first
time and then returned to the edge of Ritsuka’s bed.
 
Ritsuka assessed the unyielding lines of his back and shoulders, the
conspicuous absence of humility, and said “you’re not back yet.”
 
“No,” agreed Soubi, “which means we’re not finished.”
 
“What? No!” Ritsuka scrambled upright and tried to get away from him, knowing
that just talking to Soubi right now would accomplish absolutely nothing.
 
But Soubi was as fast as ever. There wasn’t even a scuffle. Taking full,
ruthless advantage of how much taller he was, Soubi caught and pulled one of
Ritsuka’s ankles towards the far bedpost and the opposite side’s hand towards
the headrest, spread-eagling the boy face down against his mattress.
“Restriction,” he said, “with these fetters I assume all reproach”. Magical
chains formed under his hands, leather and steel, and they held Ritsuka in
place after Soubi pulled back.
 
“I trusted you,” Ritsuka said, fury flashing in both eyes as he strained at his
spell-formed chains.
 
“You cut me loose,” Soubi responded, petting Ritsuka’s naked back, “without
understanding what that could lead to. This is not a side of me that I ever
wanted you exposed to. I know I’m distressing you and I can’t even … want to
hold back right now.”
 
Ritsuka didn’t have enough loose chain to struggle properly. He tensed his
muscles as hard as he could and yanked with his neck and torso without managing
to so much as get away from the sensuous stroke of Soubi’s hand.
 
I could scream, Ritsuka thought, and he didn’t because Soubi had already
established the effect of that – he wouldn’t hesitate to silence me. The full
impact of that knowledge hit him like a physical blow. “Soubi, you’re breaking
my heart,” Ritsuka said softly. “All those times you told me ‘I love you.’
What’s that even supposed to mean if … if the only thing keeping you from
forcing me ….” He couldn’t continue. Tears were running down his face in
earnest now.
 
Soubi said, “wait. Just wait for a moment.” And he left the room. He came back
a moment later with – Ritsuka wasn’t sure what. Still holding whatever it was,
Soubi climbed into bed, held him, and pulled the blanket over them both. He
resumed their conversation with a quiet, “it’s not the end of the world. It can
feel like the end of the world, but … ‘I love you, Ritsuka’ means a lot of
things.”
 
Ritsuka’s mouth opened in a soundless no as Soubi moved his legs apart and
pressed extremely slick fingers back inside him.
 
“It means I live for you, I bleed for you, I’d die for you with a smile on my
lips.”
 
Ritsuka’s knees braced against the bed to the limited extent that they could as
Soubi’s long, artist’s fingers twisted one way and another with perfect ease,
touching different parts of him as they slid in and out, stretching and
stimulating. Ritsuka’s hips lifted a fraction of an inch off the mattress as he
tensed in the only direction he could still move. 
 
Soubi kissed the nape of his neck. “It means you’re the one person in my life
who means anything important to me. And it means you’re the only one I find
sexy.”
 
Soubi, don’t do this, I’m begging you, was right on the tip of Ritsuka’s tongue
as the head of Soubi’s erection replaced his fingers, but he didn’t have time
to object. Soubi’s cock slid in to the hilt in one long, frictionless thrust.
Ritsuka was momentarily overcome with the immediacy of fullness; a sense of
enveloping something and being occupied that his body had only started getting
used to. His leg muscles gave way as Soubi’s hips pushed him flat into the bed.
 
“I’d want you if you were a ninety year old man with no teeth. I want you even
though people who take advantage of children make me sick.” Soubi whispered to
him, voice thick with lust, and for once,  suffused with shame.
 
Ritsuka’s hands formed fists as Soubi pumped rhythmically into him. He sucked
his lower lip between his teeth and bit it as he felt himself getting aroused,
much faster than last time. Blood was rushing into his groin with each stroke,
making him increasingly warm and hard.
 
“Most of the time, it doesn’t matter what I want. I do what you want. But the
truth is … you’re all I want.”
 
Ritsuka’s lip ached as he slowly let it out of his mouth, suspecting that pain
wouldn’t be enough to keep him from coming and not wanting to know what it
would be like to actually bite through it. He was becoming increasingly
mesmerized by the sound of Soubi’s voice and the heated confession that was
pouring out of his normally enigmatic partner. Deep inside, Ritsuka needed to
know he was wanted, and needed that so much that he wanted to believe this was
loving. Maybe … he shut that thought down before it even unfolded, but his
arousal spiked.
 
“I feel like I’ve spent my whole life following orders. I need them. I’m not
strong enough to say ‘no’ to myself when I don’t have to. When – the
alternative is taking you in my arms and kissing you, and not having to stop.”
 
I want that too, Ritsuka thought, resolve crumbling for an instant, Even when I
should hate you, I don’t. I love you. Internal muscles gripped Soubi hard as
Ritsuka came, pulling him in farther, encouraging the way he accelerated his
thrusts. It was unlike anything Ritsuka had managed to coax out of his body in
private, all-consuming. The height of the first peak was the baseline for the
next and the sensation went on and on. “Kiss me,” Ritsuka said.
 
Soubi obliged, twisting his head around and pressing it against the mattress to
fit his mouth against Ritsuka’s. The kiss muffled his sacrifice's moans.
Ritsuka curled his free arm around Soubi’s, holding onto him as if this were
something he would have chosen, because for the moment, the fact that it wasn’t
didn’t matter to him. He pulled so hard on the chains that his wrist and ankle
shot pain up his limbs, but it only intensified the sensation. Ritsuka was
dimly aware of Soubi coming inside him again with an almighty shudder, and his
own orgasm began to recede into a Zen-like serenity as Soubi collapsed on top
of him.
 
He listened to his fighter’s racing heartbeat and felt the solid, human weight
of a body that generally moved as if it were weightless. Ritsuka could still
breathe as long as he breathed slowly, so that’s what he did. He tried to feel
if his tail was pinned between them and couldn’t tell. It was … comfortable?
They fit together somehow, warmth against warmth. Soubi pulled out his
softening length with a quiet, obscene squelch that Ritsuka felt as well as
heard. When Ritsuka yanked his manacled wrist again with a grimace, the part
fastening it to the bed gave way. He wriggled, coaxing the chain around his
ankle loose, and maneuvered around so he was facing Soubi. Peripherally, he
could feel the spell fading into nothing. 
 
Soubi propped up on one elbow and shifted off him.  A moment later, without
waiting to see what Ritsuka would do, he let himself fall off the bed with a
hollow, painful-sounding thump. Soubi’s hair was covering most of his face when
Ritsuka poked his head over the edge to look at him, but from the way he lifted
his head and deliberately let it fall against the floor again with a broken
groan, Ritsuka could guess he was starting to come to his senses.
 
When he lifted it again, higher, Ritsuka automatically said, “stop it. That’s
an order, Soubi.”
 
Soubi’s body quivered at the sound of his voice, but he obeyed.
 
“You said if I could stand you when this was over, I’d have to … do something
to you. To make you know you’re mine,” Ritsuka said. “Well? What thing?”
 
Soubi looked up at him. “You – please, Ritsuka,” he started uncertainly, fervor
coloring his voice and then completely overpowering it. With effort, he got his
legs under him and planted his forehead against the ground in a kneeling, on
all fours bow.
 
Ritsuka made a face. “You’re making less sense than ever. I can’t even tell if
you’re begging me to hurt you or not to. Either would be likely, considering
what you just did.”
 
“Thy will,” Soubi said hoarsely.
 
“Okay, that doesn’t help me at all.” Ritsuka said, sitting properly upright
with a wince at the tenderness in his rear end.
 
Soubi pulled himself together as much as he could. “You could kill me,” he
suggested. “If I am forbidden from doing it myself, that would be appropriate.”
 
Ritsuka rested his forehead against the palm of his hand. “No. You are, and no.
Keep listing my options.”
 
“Ah ...” Soubi swallowed. “Gelding me would not decrease my efficacy as a
spellcaster,” he offered quietly.
 
“Doing –” Ritsuka’s vocabulary being what it was, it only took him a second to
figure out what that meant. “What is wrong with you, I’m going to be having
nightmares for months! Ugh!” He hissed, thoroughly scandalized.
 
Silence met his outburst.
 
“That’s another no, if you didn’t understand me. Move on.”
 
Soubi kept his head against the floor, which made it impossible to see his
expression. “Second degree burns used to be a traditional punishment for this.
On the soles of the feet, and other places.”
 
“My fighter is a barbarian,” Ritsuka commented, half for Soubi’s benefit, and
half to keep himself from losing it. “Let’s try this: suggest something that
you think I’d actually be able to stomach.”
 
Soubi thought about that for a moment. “You could mark me with one of the
kitchen knives.” he said tentatively.
 
“Right, and Kio would hate me. I am not carving you up like my brother did.”
 
Something abruptly brought Soubi’s head up a little. “Perhaps we should take
this to my apartment.”
 
“Why?” Ritsuka asked, blinking owlishly in the dark.
 
Soubi sat back on his heels. “Because sooner or later, your ears are going to
fall off, and I doubt you want to be here when that happens.”
 
Oh. That would be a problem. Ritsuka briefly considered that going anywhere
alone with Soubi might be a bad idea, but facing his mother right after all of
this just wasn’t a choice. He started clambering off the bed to get his things
and then stopped and changed tactics. “… fine, but I don’t feel like moving any
more than I have to. Hand me my clothes.”
 
“Yes, sir.”
 
“You’re hopeless,” Ritsuka said, as he pulled on his pants. Then he drew one of
his legs in close to put on his sock. “Ow! Soubi – walking’s going to hurt a
lot right now, you bastard,” he complained.
 
Soubi turned, still re-buttoning his shirt. He was almost dressed. “Would you
like me to carry you?”
 
“Not really, but if the alternative is limping around the city at 4am or
whatever, go ahead,” Ritsuka groused, pulling his chin out of the neck of his
turtleneck and reaching for his shoes. He heard the rustle of heavy cloth that
accompanied Soubi putting on his outer layer but didn’t bother to watch it
swing across his shoulders in silhouette and take its true shape when Soubi
adjusted the belt. Show-off.
 
Soubi knelt docilely at the foot of the bed, facing away from it, and Ritsuka
looped his arms around his fighter’s neck, hoisting his legs to rest on Soubi’s
hips. Soubi held him gently and stood up, glancing at his usual exit but opting
instead to leave through the house, silent except for the slight whoosh of his
long coat.
 
 
Ritsuka pretended to be asleep while they crossed the city, peeking out at the
almost deserted streets from under his eyelids. Soubi moved with the same self-
assurance as always. No one questioned them. Actually, when he was with Soubi,
Ritsuka couldn’t remember people ever having questioned them, including that
one time he made Soubi strip in a public place and shocked a bunch of
onlookers. He’d paid that no mind at the time, but it seemed kind of strange
looking back. Then he squeezed his eyes tighter, trying not to think about how
all of this would be after the fact; what he’d feel about it later. He was
calm, but … inside he didn’t even know with certainty what he felt about it
now. That is, apart from being sort of aghast that the real Ritsuka was going
to wake up in a body that was noticeably different than the one he’d left. He’d
have to leave him a note or something, in case he disappeared all at once and
they didn’t have any way to talk.
 
No one had carried Ritsuka like this in a very long time. Seimei could manage
it at least for short distances until Ritsuka was eight or nine, but pictures
from later didn’t show them doing that any more. Ritsuka wished he could
remember things from before. The memories he had of his brother were beyond
precious to him. His arms tensed around Soubi as Soubi’s center of gravity
shifted down and they started climbing the stairs to his apartment. The fighter
used neither handrail, but his ascent was perfectly steady.
 
Ritsuka continued to rest his head on the crook of Soubi’s shoulder, and
watched his surroundings change from that vantage point. He was sort of
diagonal, but comfortable. The air was considerably warmer inside compared to
the street. Cozy. The Zeros had left the video game controllers strewn
carelessly on the living room floor in front of the television, next to a
large, mostly empty bowl of dry snacks. Soubi was indifferent to the disarray,
but Ritsuka found it comforting. He’d left Seimei’s otherwise immaculately
clean room looking exactly like that many times when it got too late for them
to play video games together.
 
Soubi padded over to his bedroom, closed the door behind him with his foot, and
knelt down in one fluid motion so that Ritsuka could climb off.
 
Ritsuka didn’t. “I like it here,” he said softly.
 
“Then please stay,” Soubi replied, sounding like Ritsuka was doing him the
favor as he stood up again.
 
Ritsuka was grudgingly impressed that Soubi could get back up without helping
himself with his hands when he had another person on his back. “Soubi?" He
said, "I know I’m supposed to hurt you, but I don’t want to.”
 
“You really don’t, do you?” Soubi was silent for a long moment as he walked
them over to the kitchen. “I think as long as you’re giving me orders, I can
make do without it.” He seemed uncertain. “But … I wish you would. Not hurting
myself, every time I remember how I took your ears, is going to be difficult.”
 
Ritsuka unclasped one of his hands to reach up and feel his ears. The skin was
less pliable than it had been and he found for the first time he couldn’t move
them by tensing his scalp muscles. He tried his tail. The end could still curve
from side to side weakly, but getting the rest to lift and move was impossible.
Ritsuka’s body was changing sooner than he’d ever expected it to. He wasn’t
that attached to having kid features, when he hadn’t felt like one since
Seimei’s funeral, but … he felt like if someone should be punishing Soubi for
this, it should be him. And then it would be over.
 
“I can do – anything to you?” Ritsuka asked, still not sure he believed it.
 
“Anything,” Soubi confirmed, putting a pot of water on the stove to heat and
setting out two cups and saucers. “Which is true all the time. A sacrifice
doesn’t need a reason to discipline their fighter.”
 
“Your world is crazy,” Ritsuka said. “But that’s something else. What ... am I
trying to cause if I punish you? Shame? Fear? Weakness? Pure physical pain?”
 
“Whatever you want me to feel,” Soubi said quietly. He got green tea out of a
cabinet.
 
“What I actually want is for you to be okay afterwards. Okay with me and okay
with yourself.”
 
Soubi stepped back from the stove. “Then get it all out, Ritsuka. Don’t be
angry with me when you finish. You can get angry with me at any time, but
punishment is supposed to move your feelings from you to me, and leave you
feeling clean.”
 
“I think I’m going to have to experiment to figure out how that works.” Or if
it even works for me at all, Ritsuka thought to himself, but didn’t voice his
misgivings. “And the thing is, I’m not actually angry at you now.”
 
Soubi hesitated with a spoonful of tea leaves hovering over one of the cups,
before remembering himself and adding them.
 
Ritsuka waited, but his fighter seemed incapable of speech, so he went on. “I
know I should be. I know it’s wrong. But between my mother, my brother, and
you, I think I’ve stopped letting other people tell me how to feel about my
loved ones,” he said.
 
The spoon fell onto the countertop with a clatter. Soubi brought one of
Ritsuka’s hands to his dry lips and kissed his fingers. “You are,” he finally
managed to say, “so much more than I deserve.”
 
Ritsuka thought about that before answering. Instead of contradicting Soubi
because he was saying a disparaging thing about himself, he … considered it and
realized he had no response. Am I really? Ritsuka pushed past his uncertainty
until he found something within himself that he could feel was true. “I squirm
when you hold me too long because I don’t know what to do with it.”
 
“Ritsuka-”
 
Ritsuka cut him off. “Being hugged makes … all this stuff I don’t know how to
feel bubble over, and it’s too much, and I’m trying not to get it on you. It’s
heavy and it hurts, Soubi.”
 
“I know,” Soubi said, pouring hot water into the teacups, and then added,
“please do.”
 
Ritsuka shifted his weight against Soubi’s back. “Do you even know what you’re
asking for?”
 
“I want the parts of you that you’re convinced are burdensome,” Soubi said, not
taking his eyes off the unfurling tea leaves.
 
“Why?” Ritsuka asked.
 
“Because they’re also you,” Soubi said.
 
Ritsuka felt the compliment in his chest, but he frowned. “It seems wrong to
put my problems on someone who insists they’re less than me. I thought you were
just being mean to yourself.”
 
“The one really doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”
 
“Not to you, maybe. It’s weird to me.” Like I’d be taking advantage of
you, Ritsuka thought, but didn’t say it.
 
Soubi said nothing.
 
“Was it worth – did you enjoy taking my ears this way?”
 
“I’m scared stiff that you’ll despise me for having done that,” Soubi admitted.
 
Ritsuka did not let pity get the better of him. “Answer my question,” he
ordered, sliding off Soubi’s back and standing next to him so he could watch
his fighter’s expression.
 
Soubi offered him one of the steaming teacups. “my own existence offends me as
a result. Sir,” he said, as if the title might make up for the non-answer.
 
Ritsuka accepted the tea, but not the evasion. “Stop disobeying me,” he
snapped, moving gingerly around the kitchen table to sit across from him.
 
“You really should punish me.” Soubi sat down with his tea and closed his eyes.
“That was the best sex I’ve had in years.”
 
Ritsuka couldn’t decide whether he was stunned that Soubi would actually say
that to him (because getting information out of his fighter was so often like
pulling teeth) or he just had no idea what to do with a blunt confession like
that. “… Because I’m your sacrifice?” he finally asked.
 
“Yes.”
 
“Fuck that, Soubi!”
 
“I can’t, Ritsuka,” Soubi said, with the same perfect naturalism he used
whenever he was informing Ritsuka of his own limitations as a fighter. And
then, as the muscles around Soubi’s eyes and mouth contracted and smoothed,
Ritsuka realized this was as close as he’d ever come to seeing Soubi
involuntarily laugh. The fighter passed a hand over his eyes and immediately
got a grip on himself. “I apologize, that was … completely inappropriate,” he
said lamely.
 
Ritsuka really did laugh. “Soubi, of all the things that happened, how is this
the inappropriate part?”
 
“You misunderstand,” Soubi said. “The rest, I wouldn’t dare to apologize for.”
 
“Oh?” That made Ritsuka’s sudden levity evaporate in a hurry. “… because you’re
not sorry you did it, or for some other reason?”
 
Soubi hunched over his cup. “What would I be, if I asked you to forgive that?”
 
Almost appeased by that response, Ritsuka said, “try.”
 
Soubi’s eyes jerked up for an instant to meet Ritsuka’s. “… What?”
 
“Whatever that makes you,” Ritsuka commented coolly as he sipped his tea, “you
get to try.”
 
“Understood.” Soubi held his head perfectly straight, facing forward, in such a
way that his hair couldn’t hide his eyes, and did his best to own up.  “I
disobeyed you. I hurt you. I took your ears when you had no desire to lose them
and weren’t emotionally ready. There’s a word I’m dishonorably avoiding by
using these. I am a rapist. I manipulated, intimidated, and forced you to have
sex with me. I know it was abominable and I shouldn’t have done it. Thoroughly
inadequate as it feels to say this … I’m sorry.” His voice broke a little at
the words I’m sorry, but he clenched his jaw and held as still as if he
expected to be beaten. “If you wish,” Soubi ground out, “if it make you feel
unsafe, I can stop touching you altogether.”
 
I get the feeling that would be a harsher punishment for you than letting me
take a knife to your balls, Ritsuka thought to himself. “No,” he said, struck
by the imperious tone in his voice and how normal it had become for him to
address Soubi like this. The instances when Soubi didn’t immediately obey him
stood out in his mind because this was the backdrop; this absolute power that
he wielded over his fighter. “I’m not going to make you to stop doing something
I benefit from, just because you think you need punishment.” He said brusquely.
He couldn’t quite believe he wasn’t afraid of Soubi, but Ritsuka felt more
justified in bossing him around than he ever had. His sense of being subject to
anyone had disappeared. And in its place he felt … an awareness of
responsibility. “Soubi?”
 
“Yes?” Soubi said, from behind his cup of by-now barely warm tea.
 
Ritsuka looked him in the eye with utmost seriousness. “How much of this was my
fault?”
 
Soubi’s knuckles whitened noticeably against the cup. “None of it.” 
 
“No, I mean …” Ritsuka blinked impatiently, “it doesn’t justify what you did.
But normally you aren’t capable of ignoring what I say, no matter how turned on
you are or how much you want to.”
 
Soubi inclined his head very far as he nodded, long hair slipping over his
shoulders.
 
I thought so. Ritsuka felt like they were advancing. “I need to know how to
keep this from happening again, or I need to face that it could.”
 
His fighter sank down into a sort of hunched-over slouch, like a guilty dog.
“You shouldn’t have to do anything differently on my account.”
 
Ritsuka’s words were uncompromising, but his tone was gentle. He said, “I’ll
judge that, Soubi. Just talk to me.”
 
Soubi sighed, visibly reluctant to explain what he couldn’t excuse. “Your body
has a … particular vibe when you’re pleasuring it. Very erotic, very hard not
to be affected by. It hums with energy. I was trained to be respond when my
sacrifice is showing signs of arousal. I can shut most of that down when it’s
not wanted, but ... you were telling me I didn’t have to obey you.”
 
Ritsuka couldn’t put his finger on why he wasn’t embarrassed by hearing this,
but he wasn’t. He made a mental note to wrestle the story behind I was trained
out of Soubi when he was less tired, and ignored that part for now. “What would
happen if I just let you?”
 
Soubi gave him a serious, I-must-have-misheard sort of look. “Sorry?”
 
Ritsuka’s face flushed at his fighter’s tentativeness, but he felt like he’d
run out of feelings some time ago. He twitched one of his shoulders upwards in
a shrug, saying, “you have an adult’s sex drive. I’m still kind of terrified of
mine, but … I trust you not to do anything to me that I should be afraid of.”
 
Soubi opened and closed his mouth a couple of times in complete silence before
managing to murmur, softly and somewhat less than coherently, “You would ––  I
don’t –That’s not …” and sliding off his chair into a kneeling position on the
floor.
 
Ritsuka peered under and around the side of the table to look at him.
 
Soubi’s hair was covering his eyes and his shoulders were quivering. His hands
were splayed against the ground as if being on his hands and knees was all that
was keeping him from falling over entirely. “Don’t hurt yourself for me,” he
rasped, voice barely above a whisper. “Wanting things I can't have is nothing,
Ritsuka. It’s normal. I’m supposed to be controlled.”
 
Ritsuka set his teacup down on the table and then scrambled under it to be
closer to Soubi.
 
Soubi tensed perceptibly at his approach, but wrapped an arm around him as
Ritsuka snuggled against him.
 
“Soubi, if you want my secrets, my darkness, and all the things that weigh me
down, it’s only fair that you give me yours.” Ritsuka said. “There’s no way
that I’m going to make you do things all the time without knowing what it’s
like to be forced.” By you, his thoughts added silently. “Without feeling like
… I’m giving as well as getting, and giving in kind.”
 
"But I'm not ..." Soubi rested his forehead between Ritsuka’s still ears. “Do
you want me?” He asked. “Have you ever?”
 
“You think I’d let you use my body if I didn’t? Don’t answer that.” Ritsuka
reached a hand up to card it through Soubi’s long hair. “When you announced
you’d be the one to take my ears I practically fell over from the shock! But …
not because I didn’t want you.”
 
The corners of Soubi’s mouth twitched. “Before you, I never cared for being
handsome.”
 
Ritsuka considered that for a moment before saying, very quietly, “really?
Before you I hated everything and wanted to die.”
 
Soubi shifted into a cross-legged sitting position and gathered Ritsuka against
him in a tight hug. “I wish I could have spared you that.”
 
“I’m just glad it didn’t last,” came Ritsuka’s muffled reply. “After Seimei was
murdered, my life just kept getting worse. And then you came along, and I felt
like … I could actually do something with this misery I was carrying around.”
 
Soubi nodded, “having no purpose is like drowning slowly.”
 
“Yeah …” Ritsuka stifled a yawn. “Can we just go back to bed for a while? I’m
not ready to be up.”
 
“Of course.” Soubi gathered his sacrifice carefully into his arms and carried
him back to his bedroom.
 
 
Ritsuka stayed awake long enough to wind his arms and legs sleepily around his
fighter. So Soubi laid down with him, motionless and pliant, unable to fully
comprehend the logic behind Ritsuka’s behavior, nerves on edge for a punishment
that did not come. And that, somehow, did not make his sacrifice sullen and
distant in the meantime. They had … reconciled? Though he didn’t have the
audacity (or the energy) to examine on what terms. Soubi watched the sun creep
in under the curtains, making pale colors out of the grey gloom, and struggled
to breathe around the sharp pain in his throat. He hadn’t cried in years. But
this was what it used to feel like. Soubi scrutinized his body pitilessly, with
detachment, and fed his pain harsh, silent words as long as he dared. At
length, he stopped to avoid disturbing Ritsuka; to avoid making him look into
tormented, unstable eyes when he awoke. He deserved worse and he knew it, much
worse than the phantom pain of self-loathing. But Soubi used all of the
limited, invisible means at his disposal to torture himself. And, bit by
painstaking bit, he repaired the chain holding him to his sacrifice. 
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