GENETICS
The silent tranquillity of Soubi's apartment assaults Ritsuka's ears like white noise, an unbearable, irreconcilable opposite to the tumultuous dissonance of his own thoughts. He tries to break the outside silence and inner noise alike by speaking. 'Soubi?'
'Hmm? What is it, Ritsuka?' Ritsuka can feel Soubi turn his complete attention on him and keeps his eyes low. His ears even lower.
'Am I- Am I a bad person?' He regrets the question instantly and tries to make himself as small as possible, the nauseating squirming of his insides destroying any possible gratification he might have derived from the look of apparent shock that crosses Soubi's face.
'Why would you say such a thing?' Typically Soubi: to be most affected by words Ritsuka speaks about himself.
Ritsuka looks away at the pleading tone in Soubi's voice, flares of heat suffusing his insides in unison with the thumps of his heart, jarring against his ribs, but the stretching silence only serves to underscore the cacophony in his head and, drawing a shuddering breath, Ritsuka tries.
'Sometimes...'
Sometimes, he can't help thinking about the look in Soubi's eyes every time he offers for Ritsuka to punish him, already opening the top button of his shirt to show his readiness, never breaking eye contact and smiling that special, intimate, smile.
'Sometimes, I...'
Sometimes, he brushes up against Soubi, accidentally-on-purpose sliding his fingers to the warmth of Soubi's inner thigh, feeling inexplicably possessive of the shudder that Soubi never seems to be able to hide completely.
'Sometimes, I think...'
Sometimes, he allows his fingers to seek out the tangles in Soubi's hair, just to hear that ragged quality to Soubi's voice when, at Ritsuka's breathy apology for the tugging and pulling, he peers at Ristuka through heavy-lidded eyes, assuring him he belongs to Ritsuka, to do with as he pleases.
'Ritsuka?'
Soubi's movements are fluent when he lowers himself to his knees before Ritsuka, one of his hands snaking up the hem of Ritsuka's pant-leg to reverently caress a small patch of skin on his ankle and Ritsuka recognises the restrained worry in his face as Soubi's gaze seeks out his.
'Soubi-'
A tightness closes Ritsuka's throat and he laboriously swallows, feeling the tension move down, further into his body. In his throat. Lower. His chest. Lower still. His belly. Lower still.
Unable to stop himself, Ritsuka reaches out and grazes the bandages around Soubi's neck, feeling the Fighter still instantly. The fingers curled loosely around Ritsuka's ankle give a twitch before slackening into relaxation without breaking their tentative contact and Ritsuka finds himself distantly wondering if Soubi would have done the same thing if Ritsuka had squeezed.
As if in response, Soubi shivers, tilting his head back a little, the movement pressing his throat more firmly into Ritsuka's hand. 'Yes, Ritsuka?'
Ritsuka's voice is a whisper, his fingers naturally seeking out the shallow pulse, which quickens at the attention.
'Sometimes, I think I'm...'
Just like Seimei.
A/N: Comments and constructive criticisms are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading.