It's bad enough the bouncer barely let him in, now they've caused a scene. Soubi drops gracefully to his knees, trembling and bleeding. Ritsuka flattens his ears and scrunches his eyes shut, trying to ward off the onslaught of tears. A hush of whispering rolls across the small group that has gathered in the club behind them.

"You were supposed to tell me!" His voice splinters like a tree branch not sturdy enough to bear his weight. "Why do we even have a safeword if you're not going to use it?"

Soubi's eyes are unresponsive; he's already somewhere else. "I'm sorry, Ritsuka."

"Don't give me that!" Ritsuka's fists tremble. He'll never be able to build him back up if he can't break him down, first. "Say it!"

Soubi bows his head. "I love you, Ritsuka."

Ritsuka drops the flogger on the ground as reaches for him, trying not think about what could have happened if someone more experienced hadn't intervened. He loops his arms around Soubi's neck, guiding his forehead to rest against his stomach.

"You have to let me take care of you too, stupid," he mumbles.

Soubi brings one hand to Ritsuka's waist, fingers gently grazing the ribbon threaded through the corset. "How can I serve you, Ritsuka?"

"Shut up! I want you to, to - " He powers through the rest of the sentence by sheer force of will. "Touch yourself."

Live music starts up the room over, and some of the people nearby disperse. Soubi leans back, a dark angel in leather cuffs, and cups himself through his underwear and fishnet stockings. He tears through the mesh with painted nails, shuddering when his knuckles graze the half healed wound on his thigh.

Ritsuka's voice is resolute. "Soft! I don't care what you want or how Seimei did it before." He takes a deep breath. "You're my fighter, so this is about what I like."

The tension drains from Soubi's shoulders at the sound of a command, blood rushing to his groin while Ritsuka massages his scalp. His eyelashes flutter shut as he eases into stroking himself off.

"Good job, Soubi," Ritsuka manages shakily. "That's what I wanna say. So listen more, alright?"

Soubi swallows, holding tight to self-restraint. "Can I touch you, Ritsuka?"

Ritsuka inhales sharply through his nose while his tail flicks from side to side behind him. "Only through my pants."

When Soubi leans forward to nuzzle the erection growing behind the tight shorts, Ritsuka fiddles with the collar around his neck. He tugs on it and Soubi's pace stutters. He rubs his face on Ritsuka's crotch before mouthing along his inner thigh.

Ritsuka can barely stifle the noise in his throat. "Make yourself cum," he manages, carefully stroking the shell of his ear.

He brushes his thumb along Soubi's exposed collarbone and back to the bruises blooming around his neck. Soubi's jaw tightens, frame rigid save for his wrist. Somehow Ritsuka can hear him groan through the heavy bass, desperate and aching when he finally finishes.

Clarity ekes into his gaze like an oil spill in the ocean. He stares at the mess in his palm like the perpetrator of a crime. Ritsuka cuts him off before he can apologize.

"I'll let you make it up to me, okay?"

Soubi smiles. "Thank you, Ritsuka."