Warning: Sex, Violence, at the same time, if you are under 18 and do not have a parent beside you that condones reading this story. If you read on, and are squicked out, I'm not responsible.
The moment he entered his house, Soushi was roughly thrown against a nearby cabinet, broken glass scratching crisscrosses into already tender wounds. Michio's face was dark with anger, as he ground out a question- an accusation. "What were you doing with Kazuki? You looked awfully cosy."
Unfazed eyes blinked up at his furious lover, "We were hugging."
"How many men does it take to satisfy you? We have sex enough times at home,all we do is have sex." Michio's voice rose with every word until he was shouting at the top of his lungs. Still, the anger washed through Soushi but did not touch him. He was past feeling.
"What if I say ten?" The humor was lost on Michio.
"What can ten men do that I can't do ten times?" he demanded.
Soushi laughed, mocking. "I meant ten inches. You're rather far from that." He held up his thumb and index finger to illustrate. If possible, Michio's expression became even more outraged. A hand grabbed his thin arm and dragged him on to his once soft bed. Another hand grabbed an ornamental sword off the wall.
"How about a 3 feet katana?" Cloth ripped, and the tip of the katana sheath nudged into him. Wooden etchings and metal edges sliced new cuts inside of Soushi, but he didn't care. Maybe this time the damage would be permanent, and he could die. Turning his head to the side, he saw a message transporter on the night stand. Stretching out his fingers, he brushed the object and bumped it to the ground, where it landed with a crack. Michio stilled and looked at the letter that fell out as a result. He reached down and picked it up. There were tears in his eyes.
"You drive me to insanity, Soushi Minashiro," he spoke haltingly.
"You make me want to purge out my insides with fire, so I guess we're even." Soushi retorted. A slap stung his cheek. He tasted blood in his mouth.
"Shut up! Shut up! Do you know what this is?" For a rhetorical question, the speaker seemed awfully agitated.
Soushi tilted his head to one side. "A letter to New United Nations, is it not?"
"Hai, but look at the date."
The letter was tossed down beside him. As he opened it, a sense of confusion clouded over his mind, "This was dated three days ago. That means..."
"I never delivered it." Michio breathed in and continued, "Every time I decide to deliver it, I see you and I get distracted. When you are in the same room as me, my mind goes blank, and my vision is filled with only you. I love you, I have loved you for the longest time."
"You have an interesting way of showing your love," remarked Soushi, disbelieving.
Michio lifted his body and hugged him close. "I try to be gentle, but you are never here when I am. Only through pain and violence does your mind return to me. I was too rough that first time, and now you seem to expect it of me. I try to make conversation, but you never let me. What's the point of making love to someone who isn't even in the room? It's no better than making love to a corpse. I want you see me, not Kazuki, when I'm here. If that means using violence, then..."
A shudder and then the walls smashed down. The world spun on its hinges. This was not the way it was supposed to be. Michio was the aggressor who used Soushi as a sex object. He was not supposed to profess love. And gradually, Soushi realized that by making himself to be the victim, he had been subjecting himself to unnecessary pain. He looked up at a potential future and cried.