Loveless, Attachment Disorder

Title: Attachment Disorder [Soubi/Ritsuka]
Rating/Warnings: R for blowjobs and shota (ARE YOU ALL HAPPY WITH THE SHREDS YOU HAVE MADE OF MY INNOCENCE?!)
Summary: Ritsuka is rounding third base and heading for home, and all Soubi wants is a short stop.
AN: darkeyedwolf is my dirty, dirty enabler, and the best squeeing IM fangirl EVAR, and goddamn this fandom with it’s canon freaking shota. *Puts on fake ears and pretends nothing ever happened*

Attachment Disorder

“What’re you…”

“Hmm?”

“Wait, stop.”

“Mmm.”

“Stop right now.”

“Mn.”

“Ritsuka!”

Giving a petulant little sigh, Ritsuka lifted his eyes from the warm, inviting skin just above Soubi’s navel that he had been nibbling before he’d been so rudely interrupted. Soubi’s glasses had slid down to the very tip of his nose, and his hands were clenched into the sheets of his bed, half-hidden by the way his unbuttoned shirt was slipping down towards his wrists.

Ritsuka wondered idly where that third button had shot off too. He nibbled a little more while he thought about that.

“Ritsuka!” Soubi let go of the sheets with one hand and tried to draw Ritsuka back up to safer territory, but Ritsuka just let his weight go limp and unmovable.

“M’not moving.” Another nibble.

Soubi solved the problem by rolling over suddenly, pinning Ritsuka underneath him and sliding down to kiss him as a stalling tactic. And also because the raspberry ice cream Ritsuka had eaten earlier would have made him the most delicious make-out partner ever if he hadn’t already been that before.

It wasn’t that Soubi didn’t appreciate the newfound interest in getting past first base that Ritsuka’s fourteenth birthday had brought, but now that he seemed intent on rounding third with no signs of stopping, Soubi found himself more and more often in the untenable position of deciding when ‘yes right now’ meant ‘yes right now’, and when it meant ‘ten seconds after you let go of my cock I’ll never speak to you again, you pervert’.

Unfortunately, Soubi’s bid for time to think failed utterly, since it involved making out with Ritsuka. He had exactly enough time to think Must get…control…of se—and things were kind of garbled until mm, raspberry, and then total radio silence fell when Ritsuka got a leg free to wrap around Soubi’s waist.

Somehow Ritsuka had got them rolled back over by the time Soubi regained some semblance of linear thought, and Soubi made it just in time to widen his eyes when Ritsuka popped the button on his jeans.

He tried the rolling over trick again, but Ritsuka was ready for him this time. He was straddling Soubi’s upper legs, and simply dug his knees into the bed harder and went nowhere. He raised an eyebrow at Soubi, fingers still twiddling with the jeans button.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one in charge here?” he asked. When Soubi struggled to sit up, Ritsuka planted a hand in the middle of his chest and shoved him back down. “Quit it. That’s an order.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t want to lose his ears!” Soubi snapped. Ritsuka’s ears flickered in irritation, but the hand at Soubi’s flies was moving over to brush the V of pale skin that the sliding zipper had revealed, and Soubi felt his control stretching like an overused hair elastic.

“Tch.” Ritsuka gave the skin just above Soubi’s boxers—so warm—a pinch. “You know, you’re the one who wanted me to tongue-kiss you all the time, and now that I’m grown up enough for it, you don’t want me to touch you!”

“You’re fourteen,” Soubi protested, reaching down to snag Ritsuka’s wrist, “and you’re doing a lot more than ‘tongue-kissing’, which, by the way, if you can’t manage to call it ‘French kissing’, then I don’t see what business you have…”

“It’s because of Seimei, isn’t it?” Ritsuka asked flatly, fingers stilling against Soubi’s skin. “Did he order you not to? With me?”

“No!” Soubi did manage to sit up that time, and he shook his head a little when the figure in his lap blurred into another black-eared boy with a low smug voice ordering lie down just like that, Soubi and Soubi, I’m the only one who tastes you and idiot, did I give you permission? I want my ears still. Soubi banished the voice by taking Ritsuka’s face between his hands and saying very loudly, “Seimei has nothing to do with it.”

Ritsuka only glared and twisted his face out of Soubi’s grip, not needing to actually say “You’re lying” out loud for it to slap Soubi across the face. Soubi took the sting stoically.

“Ritsuka,” Soubi brushed fingers over Ritsuka’s cheekbones to twine them in the soft hair that fell over his neck, “I won’t let you take anything from me that I can’t have of you.”

“Stop changing the subject!” Ritsuka struggled a little, and Soubi dropped one hand to curl around Ritsuka’s waist, drawing him closer into his lap.

“I’m not…” Ritsuka cut off Soubi’s reply by kissing him silent, pressing tightly against his chest and hands clutching at Soubi’s shoulders. When Ritsuka pulled back just enough to glare at Soubi again, Soubi couldn’t stop a soft groan from escaping his throat.

“I want to suck you off right now,” Ritsuka announced before Soubi could lie about anything else. “Is that grown up enough for you?”

Panic and lust seized Soubi in a crushing grip, and clearly the only solution was to shove Ritsuka down onto his back and ruck up his t-shirt to nip the skin immediately below his navel. Soubi knew exactly what that tone meant when used by an Aoyagi, and the memory of being denied by Seimei made Soubi’s fingers tremble just as much as the heat of Ritsuka’s skin when Soubi slid fingers under his waistband.

“Soubi!” Ritsuka’s voice was catching on the edge of panic, but not enough to snap Soubi out of his haze of want. He pushed Ritsuka’s pants down out of the way, hooking a thumb in his underwear to sweep them along for the ride, and Ritsuka’s window of opportunity to make a more compelling case was obliterated the second Soubi’s lips pressed against the ridge of his hip.

Ritsuka whimpered Soubi’s name again when Soubi curled fingers around his cock, but neither thing seemed to be ordering him to stop, and Soubi mourned the death of romance for a heartbeat before he nipped Ritsuka’s hip hard enough to leave a mark. Ritsuka twitched underneath his fingers, and Soubi shuddered in response.

Hands tangled in Soubi’s hair, tight enough that it was hard to tell whether Ritsuka was tugging him closer or trying to push him away, but Soubi didn’t care as he shifted his mouth across Ritsuka’s hip to suck at the base of his cock, because if Ritsuka couldn’t manage to squeeze out anything more coherent than the half-syllables he was choking out right now, he certainly couldn’t order Soubi to stop.

“Don’t,” Ritsuka panted, and then Soubi stroked him so that his thumb twisted over Ritsuka’s tip, “stop.”

“Understood,” Soubi replied, then slid his hand down out of the way so that he could wrap lips around Ritsuka, and sucked firmly. Ritsuka gave a howl that made the hair on Soubi’s arms stand up, and the hand in his hair yanked hard. Soubi moaned in response, sliding his mouth down over Ritsuka a little farther. He cracked an eye in surprise when his lips bumped Ritsuka’s stomach, and had a distant inkling that swallowing Ritsuka whole would be a lot harder after he finished the growth spurt.

Soubi hummed another moan in his throat at that thought, and Ritsuka wailed one more “Soubi!” as he arched and came. Caught up in the heat of Ritsuka against his tongue, Soubi was taken by surprise, and had to pull back a little to make sure that none of Ritsuka escaped him.

Soubi reluctantly let Ritsuka slip from his mouth and rested his cheek on Ritsuka’s hip. A moment passed, Ritsuka gasping for breath underneath him, and Soubi’s head cleared enough for him to think Ritsuka is going to fucking kill me or maybe, he added when he noticed that his fingers had left angry marks across Ritsuka’s waist, just order me to kill myself.

But then Ritsuka was yanking on Soubi’s hair again, definitely yanking up this time, and kissing Soubi despite his half-formed protest about just having swallowed, and a slim-fingered hand was slipping into his still-undone jeans to wrap around his own neglected cock.

“Ritsuka,” Soubi managed, but even trying to think about Ritsuka’s scarred palms squeezing him so forcefully made everything tighten in white-hot pleasure, and Soubi shuddered against Ritsuka and left several more finger-marks in his shoulders.

Slumping against the bed, Soubi pulled Ritsuka along with him, burying his face in Ritsuka’s hair and hoping vaguely that Ritsuka might give him a minute to least let his cock stop twitching with aftershocks. Ritsuka had let go of him, but his hand was pressed stickily against Soubi’s hip, half in and half out of his jeans. Soubi realized that he would miss Ritsuka’s ears twitching underneath his fingers, and Ritsuka’s tail curling around his hip.

Something soft flicked against Soubi’s cheek. Soubi put a hand up and brushed against two very furry, very pointy ears.

Frowning, Soubi pulled back to peer at the ears, then gave one of them a yank.

“OW!” Ritsuka bellowed, jerking away and snatching his hand out of Soubi’s jeans to rub his ear. “Soubi!”

“It’s attached?” Soubi reached for Ritsuka again, but Ritsuka scooted back out of reach.

“Of course it’s attached!” he shouted. “Are you always this stupid afterwards?!”

“I don’t understand.” Soubi’s frown deepened. He wrapped a hand around the tip of Ritsuka’s tail, which still happened to be within reach, and peered at it as it rippled against his palm.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ritsuka suddenly discovered he’d been rubbing his ear with the hand that was covered in come, and pulled it away quickly, making a disgusted face.

“What’s wrong with me?” Soubi blinked and let Ritsuka’s tail slip out of his hand.

Ritsuka casually wiped off his hand on the sheet and edged away from the spot to flop against Soubi’s chest. “It’s not like we had sex or anything. I mean, even brothers do that stuff together.”

• 

  By amg, 2010.04.22 @ 8:38 am

  Haha it was so awesome so awesome! Awesome fic, crazy end, it’s one of the best fics there are amg. Don’t have any constructive crticism, cuz it’s perfect.

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