Chip: Hey guys, this one has a warning on it. Beware the shounen-air/slash going on in this drabble. It's Rido x Haruka, so if that makes you uncomfortable for any reason, run away. (Though really, I can't imagine how it could be unappealing to anyone who read or watched VK, but that's just me.) So there, fair warning. For this chapter and the one after next. Forewarned.
[About]
It's never been a matter of superiority; superiority had no place in the bed they occasionally shared and there certainly wasn't room for gloating in the hastily taken breaths and half-panted curses that slipped between their lips.
No, it wasn't about superiority.
It was about domination.
They ripped into each other with claws and fangs; blood flowed into their kisses and over their chins to drip on pale, flat chests. Haruka liked to lick his wounds and Rido liked to inflict them; the combination worked out nicely for them.
It was never about Juuri, never. Not in this bed, where they broke all rules and dismissed all traditions. It wasn't about soulmates or betrothed-ones; never about the rivalry and the betrayal.
Never.
it was about giving into the heat that built between them in the tension-filled silences; about the need to pull, push and pound; the desire to be rougher than sweet, lovely Juuri could ever condone. Neither of them denied their baser, wilder instincts here and that was the point of it. So what if they tore the bed-sheets into a thousand silken strips? Rido used them to tie Haruka's hands to the headboard and gag his mouth.
Let his prideful otouto command his way like that.
It was never about destiny or power; no, never. Because destiny, as they'd already learned, was subject to their will and power was a fleeting mistress. Oh, they knew that in the end they'd have to give this up--the press of bodies and the stretching, aching heat of being one. Give it all up and play by the rules.
Haruka had Juuri to look after; Rido had his power--stupid mistress--to chase, his own will to forge. Paths crossed, converged and melded together; bodies and souls and hearts, one and many.
The complexity of their time spent in bed was both little and grand; it was about domination and lust and heated evenings; it was about taking what they both wanted, maybe even needed.
It was never about superiority, or Juuri or even betrayal and power.
Those were just the little lies they let themselves believe, in the falling silence when their ragged breaths finally stilled.