Well-Trained
By EmptyWord


Disclaimer: Loveless is the property of Yun Kouga, Ichijinsha, Tokyopop, Media Blasters, and others I may have missed.
Warning: A teensy scrap of violence and mentioned rape. Shounen-ai as well, but that's what you're here for, I imagine.


"Tell me."

It was a command, an unmistakable one. A good slave obeyed his master's every whim. A good soldier obeyed his superior's every order. A good Fighter obeyed his Sacrifice's every demand. There was no room for anything else.

Yet Soubi hesitated.

The pause lasted no more than a fleeting breath, an ephemeral moment tightened with invisible pain, and then Soubi was speaking. "What would you have me tell you, Beloved?"

Fingers claimed his chin in a soothing grip, and Seimei's mesmerizing voice brushed against his ear. "Everything, Soubi."

He shivered, inclining his head even before he could think otherwise. Some instincts ran deeper and faster in the nerves than mere brain signals, the body reacting with habit-formed impulses before the mind could make its decision. A Fighter survived on these instincts, thrived on these impulses.

"Soubi." The word drew his gaze upwards, his face put on naked display, even as Seimei himself withdrew. "I want to know about your ears, or rather –" the amused voice continued "– the lack thereof."

A violent jolt shook him, the invisible pain whipping around him in sleek, searing strands, branding him with memories detailed in uncanny clarity. The unwelcome memories surfaced relentlessly from the void he had stuffed them in, and he relived the screaming and the crying and the trembling and, finally, the swallowing.

"Tell me everything, Soubi," whispered Seimei, interest sliding into the honeyed tones.

Mastering himself with one last shudder, shoving memories back into the darkness, Soubi acquiesced to his Sacrifice's demand. "I had my ears until I was a little younger than you are now, when I lost them to my teacher. It was a lesson in fortitude and endurance." He marveled at how easily the words slid from his tongue. With a strange smile, he finished, "I did not complain."

Seimei did not answer but drew further back, an indefinable spark flitting across his face. "You lost them?"

Confused, Soubi wondered what Seimei meant. "Yes, I lost them. I don't have them anymore."

For a split second, Seimei's face twisted, his eyes blackening, and then he stared at the older man standing meekly before him.

Soubi wished Seimei would stop looking. Oh, Heavens knew, from the very first instant he laid eyes on the beautiful man, he had desperately craved attention from him, had shamefully wanted more than was his due. But this was not the type of attention he desired. The palpable repugnance clouding those magnificent eyes was not what he wanted. Sweat dampened his palms, dirtying hands already stained, and Soubi wished very much that Seimei would stop looking.

"It was Ritsu-sensei, then," said Seimei softly, hands lifting to cup Soubi's face.

Soubi blinked. Hearing "sensei" from Seimei's lips seemed criminal. He nodded and opened his mouth to dare a question when he was suddenly, forcefully thrown back against the cabinet behind him.

Metal pressed against his back, and instinct tightened his neck muscles, barely saving the back of his head from a dizzying hit. Seimei slammed against him before he could think and sealed their lips with bruising contact before he could react. A tongue thrust brutally into his mouth, and a hand groped aggressively at the lap of his pants.

He gasped, eyes falling closed, thoughts and senses addled. Seimei had kissed him before, had teased him before, but never had it been this violent of an assault. Never had it been like... He swallowed, mouth dry, and swallowed again.

"Look at me."

It was an order. He opened his eyes.

Seimei's cold eyes watched him mere inches from his own. Soubi wondered what his superior saw.

A flicker of disgust flashed in final judgment, and he was flung away from the cabinet, away from the other man. When he caught his balance and straightened, Seimei's expression had shuttered back into its usual detached amusement.

"I change my mind," drawled Seimei, melodious cruelty lacing his voice. "Don't look at me."

"Yes, Beloved." Soubi lowered his eyes, a wash of relief calming his racing heart. Whatever urge had overcome Seimei, things were now normal again.

"Soubi, get out."

The training long-ingrained in Soubi's system moved his feet, carried him out the door. He did not look back, did not hesitate, but followed his master's whim.

Only outside did he falter, allowing forbidden thoughts to tumble out from the hidden corners of his mind. He wondered if he could have kept the truth from Seimei, if he could have distracted him. He wondered if he could have told Seimei more, if he could have spoken his own words. He wondered, too, how much deeper Seimei's disgust had grown, if perhaps it was now as inherent as his own obedience.

And then he stopped wondering and put everything back into its place. For Soubi was a very good Fighter.


A/N: Not particularly original, probably, but I've always been intrigued by the relationship between these two. The cabinet-ravishing was a little unexpected, but Seimei wrote it out himself. Sorry for the length, and thanks for reading!

June 4, 2007