Disclaimer: I don't own Loveless. Yun Kouga got to them first.TTTT I wish she'd share.
Originally posted elsewhere, and yes, by me. Due to the feedback I've gotten over the past year, I think this piece needs a little more love. A Twisted Triangle is still a work in progress, and I'm very busy with a handful of other projects for different sites and purposes, so bear with me. ) Please note that there may be very mild problems with italicized text (I'm not used to this uploading system).
I've posted three chapters to get the ball rolling. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Happy reading!
"Soubi?"
He heard his name being called, of course. It just took a while for his motor skills to cooperate and allow him to look over to the man speaking to him.
"Yes?" A belated response, but a response nonetheless.
Seimei, a twenty-something college student, raised his eyebrow to the blond at the side.
"Where were you just now?"
Chuckling wryly at himself, Soubi waved his hand. "Nowhere. I'm sorry, it's just one of those days."
Seimei smiled a faint, wary sort of smile, one that informed Soubi that he understood a bit more than he let on. He needn't have spoken.
Blue eyes shifted down to the sketchpad in his lap, a long brow furrowed, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.
"Creative gene stalling again?" Seimei asked as he caught sight of his companion's discouraged pose.
Soubi nodded.
The blond art student had long been a sufferer of artist's block. A dreadful syndrome with symptoms consisting of, but not limited to, frustration, little sleep, twice as many cigarettes as was necessary, and a heap of crumpled up paper. The deadline for a midterm painting for art class was coming on fast and Soubi usually worked well under pressure, but his creative outlet was being clogged by a little parasite that had taken it upon itself to eat away at his 'creative gene.'
Soubi rubbed a hand to the back of his cat-earless head. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he said.
A light, feather-gentle hand lay atop Soubi's own, offering a sort of comfort.
"You haven't gotten any sleep lately. You're probably just tired." One of Seimei's black cat ears flickered off to the side. "You need some distraction."
Seimei stood from the park bench, looking to his companion expectantly. "Come on. We'll play some videogames at my house. That'll take your mind off it. I'm sure you'll think of something when you're not trying too hard."
Soubi went to protest on the grounds of getting back to his roommate—he hated leaving Kio all alone in their apartment, the little snoop—but that wisp of a smile on Seimei's face prevented it. That damnable smile drew him in, and elicited one of Soubi's own.
"Alright."
Soubi was a hopeless romantic, and helpless to Seimei's will. Whatever Seimei wanted, Seimei got. Soubi could just never refuse him. It wasn't as though he was bound by some invisible force that pulled the strings and commanded his actions. He just wanted to. Anything to see Seimei happy. That was just how things worked.
Ever since he had hit the rough age of fourteen, Soubi had found himself victim to Seimei's will. They had fallen into each other's company in the aftermath of a brawl just outside of their high school; Seimei was a junior, and Soubi but a freshman.
A group of seniors had noticed one crisp spring day, that the ears on Soubi's head were mere prosthetics, and proceeded their nosy little inquiries about them. When Soubi kept his mouth shut, a fight broke out. Seimei had watched from the sidelines as three seniors ganged up on Soubi, and the blond single-handedly fought the entirety of them off. Given, he didn't escape unscathed, but it was good enough. After the fact, Seimei found his way over, noting Soubi's bruises and scrapes, and offering to walk him home. He asked no questions about the false ears. Being a bit of a social outcast, Soubi took Seimei's kindness to heart.
That was but the beginning of a long and complicated relationship. A rough six years had passed since then. Their bond between them grew stronger, the threads that tied them together thickened every day.
The walk to Seimei's home proved not long enough for Soubi to reminisce.
As usual, they entered Seimei's bedroom from the sliding glass window; it was better Seimei's mother was left in the dark about Soubi's frequent visits. She was an unstable woman, and neither man was about to risk treading on thin ice.
"My little brother will be taking this room soon," Seimei told Soubi once they had finished taking off their shoes.
Soubi frowned.
"And I've gotten so used to coming in through that window, too," the blond feigned a pout.
Seimei chuckled at him.
"Don't worry. The window in my new room will be just as easy to climb into.'
With a nod, Soubi sat down upon the edge of Seimei's bed, his hands behind him to support his weight. "Why is he taking this room, though?"
Seimei moved to the corner of his room where a television and a number of game stations sat, proceeding to look through his wide collection of PS2 discs.
"Because," Seimei elaborated, "the room he's in now is a little bigger than this one, and my mother says I need the space more than he does right now. He'll throw a fit at first, of course. But I'll make it up to him."
Soubi had never actually seen Seimei's little brother, only heard of him. But if he was anything like his older brother…
"I see…" Soubi ran his fingers over the edge of his closed sketchpad, pondering, trying like Hell to think of something he could draw. He had drawn atleast ten thousand butterflies this semester, and he didn't feel like doing it again. Silently, Soubi pleaded the gods for inspiration.
Seimei held up the case for Super Smash Bros. Melee for Soubi to see. "How about this one? We can tag team."
"Sure."
Seimei switched the PS2 on, then sat down next to his companion—a little closer than he probably had to—with two wireless controllers in his hand. Soubi took one, and the game began.
Maybe he did need this to take his mind off school. Seimei was probably right, he was just thinking about it too much. If inspiration wanted to come to him, then it would come to him, but in its own time.
Besides that, Soubi was rather enjoying Seimei's current closeness. Their friendship commonly allowed for boundaries to be crossed, certain areas of their anatomy to be explored—breached, in Soubi's case. Soubi didn't mind. Seimei didn't seem to, either. But on more than one occasion, Soubi craved so much more that he couldn't have. Seimei was rather intent on keeping his ears a while longer, if only to please his mother. Soubi knew there was no way he could have asked Seimei to do otherwise. He respected Seimei too much.
He loved Seimei too much.
At least, that's what it felt like.
"Ritsuka, go get your brother. Dinner will be ready in just a minute."
Twelve-year-old, compliant little Ritsuka nodded, setting down the third plate at the head of the table for his brother.
"'Kay," he said, chirping. Ritsuka bounded up the stairs, his hand on the railing, headed for his brother's bedroom.
Without announcing himself, Ritsuka cracked open his brother's bedroom door to see if he was even in there. He knew his brother took impromptu trips out of the house without telling a soul. But when he found Seimei, the words he had prepared ceased to matter.
Young, Ritsuka was, but he was far from naïve. He was rather intelligent for a boy his age—despite his mediocre grades—and he knew a promiscuous sight when he saw one, and what Ritsuka's violet eyes had seen upon opening his brother's bedroom was very promiscuous.
Seimei's frame lay back on the length of his cobalt bed, his hands lathered into long strands of blond hair belonging to a man Ritsuka didn't recognize. The stranger had settled between Seimei's bent legs, laying just over Ritsuka's black-haired brother, with his hand down the unbuckled fly of Seimei's jeans, stroking an unseen arousal.
What made matters even more bewildering to the twelve-year-old was that, not only were they touching each other in ways that Ritsuka could never imagine his brother touching someone, but they were kissing, on top of it. Weren't you only supposed to kiss someone you loved? Wasn't a man supposed to love a woman, not another man?
The men had yet to notice that Ritsuka had stumbled upon their tryst, and Ritsuka wasn't sure he wanted them to know. What would they do? What would he do?
"Ah… Soubi…" Seimei breathed out the name of his casual 'lover' as a hot mouth dropped to his throat.
Pleased, Soubi parted his lips and licked a wet trail over Seimei's neck, grazing his teeth over the prominent bump in the center. He suckled lightly where his teeth touched, lapped his tongue over where his lips touched, creating a sort of pattern. All the while, his hand occupied itself with the tedious stroking of Seimei's rigid member.
Seimei bucked his hips up into Soubi's touch. Soubi hastened himself in response. The blond himself had a raging erection that was going nowhere in a hurry, and he had resorted to dry grinding against Seimei's leg to satiate it.
"Wait," Seimei muttered as he pulled his hips away from Soubi's doting hand, albeit not without a fight from his aching pelvis.
Blue eyes looked up into endless violet ones, questioning, as his own body stilled.
Seimei reached down to the buckle of Soubi's belt, and a quick unfastening allowed for him to pull the strap free of the belt loops. Soon after, he unfastened Soubi's fly and freed the blond's erection, much to Soubi's relief.
A brief repositioning of their panting bodies left their pelvises locked, Soubi atop Seimei, but it was more than clear who had the control. Seimei placed Soubi's belt to the back of the blond's long, slender neck, his hands at either end of the leather strap. Seimei pulled and Soubi was forced down; once more, their lips met in a searing kiss.
Rocking up, Seimei placed a delicious friction to Soubi's straining arousal. In reciprocation, Soubi mimicked the action. Before long, a solid pace had settled in, and they filled the room with the hollow sound of fabric brushing together, accentuated by breathy groaning.
It was beyond Soubi to take Seimei's ears from him, he knew it. It was, at least, for right now. But this would do. Oh, yes, it would… It satiated Soubi's mind-boggling hunger for his beloved Seimei, and it always pleased Seimei to no end. Anyone who made a comment on him still having his ears would be met with a sly grin that only he and Soubi understood. No-one would ever guess what went on between these two, and no-one ever would.
So they thought.
An urgent need set into Soubi's veins, and he attempted to slow down his impending climax. He wanted to last as long as Seimei did, to increase the pleasure of the aftermath. Seimei was always the most satisfied when he and Soubi finished together, and it was in this light that Soubi set out to do just that.
Panting like a dog, Soubi bowed his head as Seimei rocked more fervently against the blond's lean body. The catches in Seimei's throat—elicited from strangled attempts to keep quiet and not draw attention from his mother and his little brother—were more prominent now, and Soubi knew he was close. He had grown accustomed to that beautiful sound, the sound that only Soubi could cause, the sound of Seimei reaching his pinnacle with such pleasure that only Soubi could bring.
The belt which Seimei had since used to hold Soubi down was soon discarded, and rough hands instead gripped at Soubi's back. With Soubi's shirt pushed up, Seimei scratched at the blond's fair skin, groping farther down, forcing a harder pace. It wasn't long before Seimei was sent over the edge, and Soubi followed just after. Seimei craned up, burying his face in Soubi's alabaster neck, biting roughly at the skin there to silence his moan of completion. In correspondence, Soubi was forced to bite against the back of his own hand, muffling his cry of pleasure.
Spent at last, Soubi collapsed on top of his lover, panting heavily against his shoulder. Seimei lovingly caressed the tussled strands of Soubi's hair, almost an apologetic gesture for leaving scratch and bite marks all over his neck and his back. He needn't have apologized, however. Soubi loved such treatment.
"Seimei…"
With one hand to his mouth, Ritsuka silently shut his brother's door and shuffled further back into the corridor.
What had he just seen? More importantly, why had he watched? He didn't know. All he knew was that his brother had been in the arms of another man, making sounds the boys at school only joked about.
He couldn't tell anyone about this, of course.
But such a thing was sohard not to bring up…