Loveless, (Seimei/Soubi)
Title: Enraptured.
Author/Artist: allira_dream
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: M/s and sadomasochism undertones.
Word count: 1195.
Summary: If Seimei wants to use him, he will. It's not his place to offer.
A/N: Prompt: Loveless, Seimei/Soubi: Submission - 'Submission is the only good;/Let me become an instrument sharply stringed/For all things to strike music as they please.' (Phillip Larkin)
Enraptured
Seimei's shirt has blood when he arrives for the Battle. Soubi's eyes widen, because in two years since he met his Sacrifice, he has never seen him anything but spotless, he didn't even see blood when Seimei carved his name on his throat.
“Seimei!” He walks closer, trying to see where a possible wound might be, fingers twitching to see. If someone hurt his Sacrifice, he'll- “Are you alright?”
Seimei's eyes burn holes through him when he looks at him. He's angry, Soubi realizes. It's so strange to see Seimei truly angry, to bear the anger of the god Soubi considers him to be. Soubi thinks he can feel the fire of their Name against his skin and he swallows, trying to actually feel the letters.
“Did I say you could ask me anything, Soubi-kun?”
He bows his head forward. “I apologize, Beloved. That was rude of me.”
Seimei doesn't answer, instead turning to look towards Noiseless. Seimei gives a small nod and Soubi steps forward, glasses tucked in his shirt as he calls forth the Battle System.
The Battle is over soon. The quiet music that the Noiseless girls cause isn't enough to silence the raging storm that Soubi causes in Seimei's name, and there's nothing they can do against the thunder of Nature he twists to strike them. He has never seen Seimei so angry, so magnificent, eyes dark as he orders the defeat of the team.
Soubi is surprised when Seimei, instead of saying he has to go back to that little brother he adores, walks in silence all the way to his apartment. He has to bite his tongue to refrain from asking, keeping his eyes low and his hands in his pockets. He itches for a cigarette, but he knows better than to smoke in Seimei's presence. Even when Seimei walks into the bathroom and he hears the shower, Soubi is too wary to sit down.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opens with a cloud of steam behind him and wearing his bathrobe, skin flushed. “I need clean clothes, Soubi-kun.”
For that he had been ready, and he gives Seimei a set of clothes on his size that he always has ready, just in case he messes up the battle somehow. Seimei takes the clothes and walks inside the bathroom, and Soubi forces himself to stop thinking on how Seimei'd look with his clothes. It wouldn't be a big difference, he thinks. Seimei has grown taller last year, now standing barely a few inches smaller than him, his shoulders broadening. The sudden craving is bad enough that Soubi clenches his hands in tight fists so that the nails bit at his skin.
When Seimei comes out again, his hair is still a little wet but combed, the skin of his face still flushed from the steam but the fire he had seen before in his eyes has receded. Whatever it was that sparked his anger, Seimei seems to be in control of it again. At least for the most part; when Soubi dares to look, he thinks Seimei is still tense.
He bites his tongue to refrain from making questions. If Seimei wants to use him, he will. It's not his place to offer, not his place to tell Seimei what he can do with him or not. A weapon, he reminds himself. His will is Beloved's. If Beloved wants him, Beloved will tell him.
Seimei walks around his place slowly, pausing in front of a new canvas, black and red over it.
“This one is new,” Seimei says conversationally. “I like it.”
His chest swells with pride and he leans his head forward, gently. “Thank you, Seimei. I'm glad you find it pleasing.”
Seimei makes a thoughtful sound but stares at the painting for a few more minutes before coming close to him. Soubi looks at him - it would be no good, he knows, not to acknowledge Seimei - and he is a little surprised when he finds that the anger has come back to Seimei's eyes.
Seimei smiles then, soft and pleasant and his eyes grow even darker.
“Soubi-kun?”
“Yes, Seimei?”
“On your knees.”
He falls easily enough for that, expecting some kind of punishment. Seimei rarely punishes him the way Ritsu-sensei did, but Soubi wonders what it'll be before he sees Seimei opening his trousers and he tries to keep from showing his surprise. Seimei rarely touches him and only when he can't avoid it and, for this...
“Hands behind your back,” Seimei orders casually. Soubi does as he's told, opening his mouth a little. Seimei's cock is half hard even before Seimei strokes himself slow and easy. Soubi can't take his eyes away from Seimei's hand. It takes all his control not to let his breathing grow heavy and not to moan.
Seimei's hand holds his cock once he's completely erect before stepping forward between his thighs.
“Suck my cock, Soubi.”
He hasn't been told to move his hands from his back, so all Soubi does is lean forward, mouth open to take Seimei's cock in his mouth. It's been over two years since he last did this; for a moment Soubi thinks he can still taste Ritsu-sensei, but he stops thinking about that the moment that Seimei's hand curls on the back of his neck, because his Sacrifice rarely is physical like this.
It's hard not to moan at that single touch, or of the feeling of Seimei hard against his tongue. Soubi closes his eyes as he moves down even more, wondering for a second if Seimei has ever gotten his cock sucked before he tells himself it doesn't matter, nothing else matters but this, to please his Sacrifice as he was told he ought to do.
Seimei doesn't thrust inside his mouth, his hold on his neck almost casual. Soubi doesn't open his eyes as he moves down until the head of Seimei's cock brushes the back of his throat, almost chocking him, and up so that he can focus on the swollen head. It's hard without his hands, and he'd love to feel the flex of Seimei's thighs, his tension, but this is more than enough, he thinks. He's getting hard, too, and now at least he has an excuse about why he is breathing hard.
Before long, Seimei's hold on his neck tightens and Soubi moves backwards a little so that he can swallow Seimei's come instead of making a mess.
Seimei steps backwards after that. Soubi doesn't stand up, doesn't move his hands from behind his back. Instead he hears Seimei walk back inside the bathroom, water running down the sink.
When Seimei comes back, Soubi is a little surprised when a wet towel touches his face. He looks up towards Seimei and finds him collected again, no leftover anger in his eyes. The pleasure of having been useful makes his still half hard cock twitch but he doesn't moan despite everything. Then, Seimei smiles and Soubi feels the pleasure expand through his body. He could come like this, he thinks, come with nothing but the warmth heavy knowledge that he pleased Seimei.
“You did a good job, Soubi-kun. Well done.”
He bows his head forward, trying - and failing - to keep from smiling.
“Thank you, Seimei.”
Author/Artist: allira_dream
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: M/s and sadomasochism undertones.
Word count: 1195.
Summary: If Seimei wants to use him, he will. It's not his place to offer.
A/N: Prompt: Loveless, Seimei/Soubi: Submission - 'Submission is the only good;/Let me become an instrument sharply stringed/For all things to strike music as they please.' (Phillip Larkin)
Enraptured
Seimei's shirt has blood when he arrives for the Battle. Soubi's eyes widen, because in two years since he met his Sacrifice, he has never seen him anything but spotless, he didn't even see blood when Seimei carved his name on his throat.
“Seimei!” He walks closer, trying to see where a possible wound might be, fingers twitching to see. If someone hurt his Sacrifice, he'll- “Are you alright?”
Seimei's eyes burn holes through him when he looks at him. He's angry, Soubi realizes. It's so strange to see Seimei truly angry, to bear the anger of the god Soubi considers him to be. Soubi thinks he can feel the fire of their Name against his skin and he swallows, trying to actually feel the letters.
“Did I say you could ask me anything, Soubi-kun?”
He bows his head forward. “I apologize, Beloved. That was rude of me.”
Seimei doesn't answer, instead turning to look towards Noiseless. Seimei gives a small nod and Soubi steps forward, glasses tucked in his shirt as he calls forth the Battle System.
The Battle is over soon. The quiet music that the Noiseless girls cause isn't enough to silence the raging storm that Soubi causes in Seimei's name, and there's nothing they can do against the thunder of Nature he twists to strike them. He has never seen Seimei so angry, so magnificent, eyes dark as he orders the defeat of the team.
Soubi is surprised when Seimei, instead of saying he has to go back to that little brother he adores, walks in silence all the way to his apartment. He has to bite his tongue to refrain from asking, keeping his eyes low and his hands in his pockets. He itches for a cigarette, but he knows better than to smoke in Seimei's presence. Even when Seimei walks into the bathroom and he hears the shower, Soubi is too wary to sit down.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opens with a cloud of steam behind him and wearing his bathrobe, skin flushed. “I need clean clothes, Soubi-kun.”
For that he had been ready, and he gives Seimei a set of clothes on his size that he always has ready, just in case he messes up the battle somehow. Seimei takes the clothes and walks inside the bathroom, and Soubi forces himself to stop thinking on how Seimei'd look with his clothes. It wouldn't be a big difference, he thinks. Seimei has grown taller last year, now standing barely a few inches smaller than him, his shoulders broadening. The sudden craving is bad enough that Soubi clenches his hands in tight fists so that the nails bit at his skin.
When Seimei comes out again, his hair is still a little wet but combed, the skin of his face still flushed from the steam but the fire he had seen before in his eyes has receded. Whatever it was that sparked his anger, Seimei seems to be in control of it again. At least for the most part; when Soubi dares to look, he thinks Seimei is still tense.
He bites his tongue to refrain from making questions. If Seimei wants to use him, he will. It's not his place to offer, not his place to tell Seimei what he can do with him or not. A weapon, he reminds himself. His will is Beloved's. If Beloved wants him, Beloved will tell him.
Seimei walks around his place slowly, pausing in front of a new canvas, black and red over it.
“This one is new,” Seimei says conversationally. “I like it.”
His chest swells with pride and he leans his head forward, gently. “Thank you, Seimei. I'm glad you find it pleasing.”
Seimei makes a thoughtful sound but stares at the painting for a few more minutes before coming close to him. Soubi looks at him - it would be no good, he knows, not to acknowledge Seimei - and he is a little surprised when he finds that the anger has come back to Seimei's eyes.
Seimei smiles then, soft and pleasant and his eyes grow even darker.
“Soubi-kun?”
“Yes, Seimei?”
“On your knees.”
He falls easily enough for that, expecting some kind of punishment. Seimei rarely punishes him the way Ritsu-sensei did, but Soubi wonders what it'll be before he sees Seimei opening his trousers and he tries to keep from showing his surprise. Seimei rarely touches him and only when he can't avoid it and, for this...
“Hands behind your back,” Seimei orders casually. Soubi does as he's told, opening his mouth a little. Seimei's cock is half hard even before Seimei strokes himself slow and easy. Soubi can't take his eyes away from Seimei's hand. It takes all his control not to let his breathing grow heavy and not to moan.
Seimei's hand holds his cock once he's completely erect before stepping forward between his thighs.
“Suck my cock, Soubi.”
He hasn't been told to move his hands from his back, so all Soubi does is lean forward, mouth open to take Seimei's cock in his mouth. It's been over two years since he last did this; for a moment Soubi thinks he can still taste Ritsu-sensei, but he stops thinking about that the moment that Seimei's hand curls on the back of his neck, because his Sacrifice rarely is physical like this.
It's hard not to moan at that single touch, or of the feeling of Seimei hard against his tongue. Soubi closes his eyes as he moves down even more, wondering for a second if Seimei has ever gotten his cock sucked before he tells himself it doesn't matter, nothing else matters but this, to please his Sacrifice as he was told he ought to do.
Seimei doesn't thrust inside his mouth, his hold on his neck almost casual. Soubi doesn't open his eyes as he moves down until the head of Seimei's cock brushes the back of his throat, almost chocking him, and up so that he can focus on the swollen head. It's hard without his hands, and he'd love to feel the flex of Seimei's thighs, his tension, but this is more than enough, he thinks. He's getting hard, too, and now at least he has an excuse about why he is breathing hard.
Before long, Seimei's hold on his neck tightens and Soubi moves backwards a little so that he can swallow Seimei's come instead of making a mess.
Seimei steps backwards after that. Soubi doesn't stand up, doesn't move his hands from behind his back. Instead he hears Seimei walk back inside the bathroom, water running down the sink.
When Seimei comes back, Soubi is a little surprised when a wet towel touches his face. He looks up towards Seimei and finds him collected again, no leftover anger in his eyes. The pleasure of having been useful makes his still half hard cock twitch but he doesn't moan despite everything. Then, Seimei smiles and Soubi feels the pleasure expand through his body. He could come like this, he thinks, come with nothing but the warmth heavy knowledge that he pleased Seimei.
“You did a good job, Soubi-kun. Well done.”
He bows his head forward, trying - and failing - to keep from smiling.
“Thank you, Seimei.”