Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Ritsuka, Soubi, or the Loveless universe. Nor am I making any profit. Everything belongs to Yun Kouga and rightly so.

Pairing: Soubi/Ritsuka (mild)

Author's Note: Revised again, as realised it could do with it. Plus I finally had the time to do so. Certainly not the best piece of writing, but I still enjoy the fluff. If you read, I hope you enjoy too. If you do enjoy, then... perhaps... a... review? To those that have already, thank you. :)

Under His Skin

Ritsuka does not recall a time where he ever felt this relaxed. But maybe those memories are lost.

It is evening. The sun is still fighting to keep the day and the red-orange-pinkness of the sky looks like a masterful water-painting. School finished many hours ago and now his curfew has passed. There is no desire to rush home and apologize, however, for the moment 6:00pm struck he knows that anger and hate rose in the form of his mother. And because there is no avoiding it he has made the rebellious decision to stay away for as long as he dares, if only because such things will still be there no matter how much time might pass. So instead he will make the most of this extended time away before such things have to be faced. He does not think on it too much. Right now there is nothing he wants on his mind other than the incredible feeling of peace, relaxation, and being in the warm presence of Agatsuma Soubi.

The adult is currently knelt on the floor, body bent in a graceful arch over a square canvas. His pale fingers hold and guide a paintbrush over curves and lines to give life to the picture that he so delicately creates. His hair is tied in a messy ponytail. Many strands have worked their way loose and shimmer gold as the light of the lamp catches them. Ritsuka finds he cannot tear his gaze away from the sight and is silently glad that Soubi is too preoccupied to notice his staring.

(A soft breeze tumbles through the open window and causes the curtains to flutter ever so gently. Ritsuka briefly thinks of taking the jumper that lies by his feet to warm his arms with it, but he is too weary and slightly afraid to move lest Soubi scold him again.)

It is not just the fact that he enjoys watching Soubi – and that alone is something that he will never admit to doing, even though he does not doubt that Soubi is quite aware and probably relishing in the attention, the pervert. No, what attracts his gaze most is the careful and calculated control, the almost timid press of brush against the canvas, and the softness in those blue eyes. Ritsuka rarely gets to witness such a gentle side to the adult. He is used to Fighter-Unit Soubi, a magician using words to wreck pain and havoc on any challengers that come their way. A strong and powerful being with no remorse for his actions. Not a man, with heart and love and humanity.

His heart jolts when twinkling blue eyes rise to meet his. Caught you. They maintain contact for a moment until Ritsuka blushes and looks away.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Soubi asks, returning to the painting.

"…No." He might be were he standing, but Soubi had insisted that he be lying down and he is incredibly comfortable amidst the adult's sheets.

"Bored?"

"…No," he replies, before giving in to the yawn that stretches his jaws. "Not really." And then his body seems to be twisting and pulling of its own accord. His back curls, arching against the bed to allow his muscles to pull in a delicious way that only heightens the relaxation. Something, somewhere, cracks. The sound is loud but it does not hurt.

He catches sight of the smile Soubi gives when washing the paintbrush with a swish. It is no more than a simple tug of affection at one corner of his mouth, but it emits much power. Ritsuka cannot help but stare at the curve of it, and he suddenly remembers the feeling of those lips pressing against his own. The thought makes his belly clench in a new way that he is only just beginning to understand, makes his ears twitch and his tail flick. Thankfully the adult is distracted again and he does not appear notice the actions which, any other time, he inevitably would.

Using the lack of attention to his advantage, Ritsuka snuggles into the bed, if possible, even further. His tail thumps against the mattress as he continues to watch. He finds that if he presses his face into the pillow, he can almost believe that he is resting on Soubi's chest. Although, in reality, the pillow is actually much too soft and cold to be likened to the adult. It is the smell alone that sparks his imagination -- fresh air and grass, a faint touch of paint and turpentine, and the smallest hint of cigarette smoke. Everything that is the man he has come to know and love. In essence the mixture is both horrible and wonderful. True, he would normally agree more with the former, but right now he is tired and safe and the scent of his Fighter is possibly the best thing he has ever known. He would rather stay there forever than return to the reality of the world.

And that comfort, coupled with the warmth that has riddled his body, makes Ritsuka realize just how weary he feels. He cannot help but welcome the sleep that begins to lure him away, pulling at him from somewhere deep and promising wonders. Deep down he knows he shouldn't surrender to it -- Soubi is painting him, after all, and what good is a model that cannot stay awake? -- but then his eyes are closing -- just for a minute, he tells himself -- and that lovely feeling of surrendering to that pull and closing in on yourself covers him from head to toe…

By the time the bed dips, he is so far from himself that he does not pay it much heed. That is until extra warmth and a slight weight drapes over his body, followed by a soft whisper.

"Ritsuka," says Soubi, dragging out the last syllable of his name with a teasing grin, "don't fall asleep."

"Soubi," he half-whines, half-sighs. "M'sleepy."

There is a tickle of breath on his neck as Soubi chuckles, "Ritsuka. You're adorable. Can't you even stay awake for me?"

Cautious lips kiss at the sensitive part behind his ear. Ritsuka's tail twitches at the touch, winding through the air until it hits what he supposes is a thigh. He hears Soubi hum, a little sound that he might have missed where they not so close. The mattress dips and shifts as the larger body moves to rest behind him. Strong arms envelop and pull him close, tight around his middle.

An insult revolving around perverts and adults generates in his mind, but all Ritsuka manages is a weak, "I'm not." And even he is not sure if that answer makes sense.

"I haven't finished painting you," Soubi murmurs. He presses his cheek to Ritsuka's head while his fingers reach to play with a curl of dark hair. Ritsuka feels the smile form against his neck when his traitorous tail flicks up from the bed to curl around Soubi's hip. The hand at his head moves down to draw along his side, ever so slowly, until it reaches the rise of his waist. Once there, it leaves to accept the tail and lets it rest in the curl of a loose fist. There is no stopping the tail from twining itself with the fingers and lazily bumping against the palm.

"I haven't moved," Ritsuka says. And then he cannot stop himself. He twists and turns to rest his head against the adult's chest, cuddles into the embrace and thinks that no; the pillow could never be as comfortable as this.

"Mm. I need to see your eyes, though. I left them until last."

Sighing into Soubi's collarbone, Ritsuka complies. Tilting his head, he finds his gaze met with wondrous eyes of electric blue. His heart thunders, his cheeks flush. To avoid it he presses closer to the warm body aligned with his own, breathes in fresh air and grass, a faint touch of paint and turpentine, and the smallest hint of cigarette smoke. Everything that is the man he has come to know and love. A strand of that shimmering hair falls near his cheek and he reaches for it with lazy want, accepts it into his own hand.

"You know what colour they are."

"True. But I still like to look." The adult gently presses him flush to the bed then, staring hard into his eyes for a few moments before reaching down for a kiss. Those lips curve against Ritsuka's when he nervously yet willingly kisses back.

He sighs through a shy smile, "Soubiii."

Ritsuka does not recall a time where he ever felt this relaxed. Now he thinks he has the chance to make memories worth holding on to.

Revised/Rewritten: 29-01-2009