Body Art

Disclaimer: Loveless lovelies do not belong to this lovely.

Notes: Body Art is my first one-shot. The current version is a rewrite of one that had been posted previously. Access to Loveless has been limited, so this may be AU. My Apologies.

Soubi was a compulsive painter.

To Soubi, his paintings held hundreds of tiny imperfections—little things that could not be seen by anyone other than him. Each time he painted, a new flaw would appear, forcing him to paint over it, again and again, until the original was twisted into a distorted facsimile of perfection.

Sighing, Soubi turned away from his easel, disgusted by what he saw. Another canvas ruined. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on.

"Is it finished?" Ritsuka asked, peering at the painting curiously from his vantage point on the futon.

"Yes," Soubi said sadly. "I will not touch it again."

"Soubi, do you remember when we first met?" Ritsuka asked suddenly. "You said that you would paint me."

Soubi looked questioningly at the younger boy. A faint blush colored his cheeks, but Ritsuka refused to meet his Fighter's eyes, his eyes intent on the painting behind him.

"Iie, Ritsuka," Soubi said, shaking his head. "I won't paint a picture of you."

Ritsuka started, taken aback. Soubi could see in his eyes a mixture of hurt and confusion, but most of all, anger. "Doushite? Was what you said before only a lie? Or am I that repulsive?"

Soubi noted Ritsuka's small, trembling hands, which were balled into fists and concluded that today would not be a wise day to brush him off with a vague reply. He took a step towards Ritsuka. "You misunderstand me. I never said I would paint a picture of you. I said I would paint you."

He looked at the younger boy, and saw Ritsuka's eyes widen as the full implication of his statement hit him. Soubi fully expected the younger boy to outright reject his proposition.

"Y-You mean… paint on me?" Ritsuka asked, blinking in surprise. He didn't sound disgusted, but rather, morbidly fascinated, which was enough encouragement for Soubi.

"Hai," Soubi said taking Ritsuka's chin between his fingers, looking deeply into his eyes. "I want your skin to be my canvas."

With his paintbrush poised, Soubi waited for his canvas to settle himself on the floor. A pillow had been placed underneath Ritsuka's bare chest, and he shifted so that his elbows were positioned comfortably. "I'm ready."

Soubi nodded wordlessly and positioned himself at Ritsuka's side. He set the palette down beside him and leaned over the young boy's body.

Ritsuka gasped as he felt Soubi's tongue touch his skin, licking a path from the hollow of his back, up his spine. "W-What are you doing?" Ritsuka demanded. He sat up abruptly, blushing furiously.

"I have to prep you." Soubi said simply. "Traditional Japanese paint is a delicate thing. Even a speck of dirt will affect the quality of the painting."

"Then why didn't you just have me take a shower?" Ritsuka hissed, the fur on his ears and tail rising on end.

Soubi chuckled. "Since when could you wash your back without assistance?" The expression on Ritsuka's face, at that moment, was priceless. "I didn't think you would want my company."

The younger man looked properly abashed. "I-I didn't think…"

"I will stop if you order me to, but if you want me to paint you, then I will have to continue," Soubi said. He smiled to show Ritsuka that he was fine with either decision. But as the silence grew, Soubi grew more apprehensive. Was this too fast? Would Ritsuka push him away?

"No," Ritsuka finally said, with his face hidden beneath his long locks. "I-I want you to keep going."

As he settled back down onto the floor, into his previous position, Soubi let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "As you wish, master." He repositioned himself and continued to clean Ritsuka, alternating between licking, sucking and kissing each inch of skin on Ritsuka's back, with a single-mindedness that caused the younger boy to blush from head to toe.

Ritsuka had just gotten used to Soubi's warm breath when the first drop of paint touched his skin. Cool liquid contrasted sharply on warm skin, and he shivered, pressing closer to the pillow.

"Ochitsuite. Relax," Soubi whispered, stroking Ritsuka's cheek gently. "As you must train your mind to battle, so must you must train your body to these sensations."

And so Ritsuka waited, watching Soubi through the mirror as he worked. The older man had an intense look of concentration about him, working quickly, yet meticulously. He blended colors on his palette without a second thought, and it wasn't long before the bowl of water next to him turned murky with paint. Soubi's strokes, however, were careful and several times, he paused, using his finger to trace a desired outline before he began again.

With his attention elsewhere, Ritsuka was able to study Soubi's face to his heart's content without embarrassment. It was strange how he never noticed the delicate arch of Soubi's eyebrow, or how soft the planes of his cheeks were.

Several strands of blond hair escaped from his ponytail and Soubi brushed them away absently, leaving a smudge of blue paint trailing from his cheek to his ear. Ritsuka was forced to stifle a giggle or risk ruining the painting.

It was a relief when Soubi finally put down his paintbrush, indicating that he was done. This meant Ritsuka could finally regain the feeling in his legs, which had fallen asleep.

"Don't move," Soubi said, restraining Ritsuka with a firm hand. Lowering his face until his lips mere inches from Ritsuka's newly painted skin, Soubi blew gently. "Now, it's finished," he whispered softly into Ritsuka's ear. "Suki desu? Do you like it?"

Ritsuka blushed, admiring Soubi's handiwork through the mirror. It was of a butterfly against the backdrop of the moon. The pale glow suffused it with an otherworldly aura which reminded him strangely of Soubi. Underneath, in neat lettering, was one word: LOVELESS.

"It's beautiful," Ritsuka breathed. He turned slightly until his face was mere inches away from Soubi. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." Soubi smiled at the pure joy radiating from the young man's eyes "I love you, Ritsuka." Leaning forward, he planted a chaste kiss on Ritsuka's soft mouth.

Ritsuka's response pleased him. To Soubi, his paintings held hundreds of tiny imperfections—little things that could not be seen by anyone other than him. But with Ritsuka, there were no marks out of place, for Soubi's love for him hid such miniscule imperfections.