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Home Again	By : trowacko Category: +G to L > Loveless Views: 1857 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Loveless, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Home Again
- 1
Title
- Home Again

Author
- trowacko

Rating
- NC17

Warnings
- Soubi/Ritsuka, angst

Disclaimer
- I do not own Loveless in any way, nor do I make a claim to. No profit, no
harm done.

Author's
Note - written for gwydi

Home.

It'd been a long time since Ritsuka thought of home.
The place where a boy had begun to grow and the place he ran away from oh so long ago.

Nothing had changed.

That he could see right away. The same cracks graced
the same streets he remembered well enough that he picked his way among their
veined welcome until he stood near the school that had been the beginning of
the end. Against the wall, this boy of nineteen leaned and pulled a pack of
smokes from his pocket to deal himself a few minutes of death. In the puff and
flutter of smoke, he blinked when the bell rang and students began pouring from
the doors before the sound faded away.

On the other side of the mirror now, he thought with amusement, smiling
at the occasional distrustful glance and the giggle of girls too young to
understand the momentary lust he gave them with a bright smile back.

Then it was back down the road, across a few streets, to the home he'd once
lived in. Soubi, he thought with a faint tremor that
was wiped away, tucked behind an ear like the stray hairs he tamed with a
practiced flick.

Instead of the knock, he tried the knob and found it willing to turn. Inside,
it was the same, so much the same that he swayed under the surrealism that if
he stepped across the threshold, he'd revert to the younger Ritsuka
he'd left behind. He did step, but he didn't revert and exhaled gratefully that
it should be--

"Soubi!"

Shoes aside, forgotten bag dropped to the clunk of the camera warning it might
be broken with the tiny whimper of cracked plastic... Not in the living room,
not in the kitchen. Up the narrow stairs - they'd gotten smaller too - he crept
to his mother's room, dreading to open the door and it was as empty as he'd
left it. That left his room, and it should have been the start of his search,
except he expected Soubi to forget he was so
predictable.

In the creak of the door, hinges as rusted as his memory wanted to be, Ritsuka stepped into his room to the flick of a hand that
rose to light the cigarette Soubi probably wanted to
smoke and didn't to prematurely give away his location.

"I'm

home

back," this new Ritsuka said lacking the
uncertainty of the old. "Soubi--"

A puff, a draw, a stream of white sent in his direction of

I know

an answer that hung between them. The man hadn't aged so much to be remarkable,
yet his visage was as unblemished as Ritsuka recalled
in the warm flutter in his stomach when he crossed the room to push Soubi from the chair to fall against the bed.

"Soubi--"

Why won't you answer?

Ritsuka pulled the smoke from oh so slender fingers,
bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the tip with a draw before he flicked it
toward the window. In the same direction, he threw his coat, his shirt. He
stopped at his pants, fingering the belt, the band, the tremble of

Why won't you answer?

doubt that faded when he dropped to his knees and
worked on Soubi's instead.

"I know now," he said, conversationally, as one is want to be when
one unsecures the pants of a soon to be lover.
"I understand now," he said as his fingers found their treasure to
slip Soubi's cock free, firm and warm in his too big
hands. Oh, but there was a sigh

I know

and a touch against his hair, so familiar from years ago that he looked up and
pleaded with his eyes and

Why won't you answer?

watched so carefully when his mouth dipped to taste,
to kiss the tip with a draw before he forced it deeper.

The taste was Soubi, Soubi,
Soubi and sickly sweet that slicking its ridges and
planes was easy and familiar. Against his ears, he felt the slightest of tugs,
a stroke down and away that he didn't want to answer. His lips were numb by the
time he heard the hiss of air and drew away to peel the other man's clothes
away so like a second skin, shed to his scrutiny and the critical eye of a
virgin.

Now it was okay to lose his clothes, now he straddled Soubi's
lap and pushed himself down and Soubi in.

"Beloved," he accused when his impaler
could go no deeper.

"Loveless," came the croaked retort from a throat not used to
speaking.

Careful, oh so carefully, Ritsuka peeled away the
bandages that hid Soubi's shame and watched the name
that wasn't a word while he rode out the lust kept penned by school and books
and scorned would be lovers who dared think themselves worthy of this one
little thing.

Pressure ached in his muscles, inside, deep where he felt it in his mind, not
his body. How hard it was to push and plunge when he had to do it all alone.
Ah, but there was finally an answer when Soubi's
hands touched his waist, guiding his movements to turn and fall right where he
belonged. Then the thrusts were bitter and harsh, forced deep enough to pull a
cry from a young man's throat in an entreaty for more and more. Ritsuka bit the knuckles of one hand while the other stole
guiltily down to tug his own cock, tempering animalistic sex with pleasure that
ended when the lights dimmed enough that he couldn't properly see, but he felt
the burst of climax over his hand, the precursor for an equal amount slid into
his body from above.

Oh, but it wasn't love and it wasn't even lust. It was fate, just as Soubi had said it was that when the man got up to retrieve
another cigarette, Ritsuka sat up and stole one for himself.

"Are you free now?" Soubi asked in a voice
as bitter as the seed that leaked from Ritsuka's
body. Of him, of fate, oh, but not from the sex Soubi had wanted and he'd have so long as Ritsuka demanded.

Ritsuka looked up, man of nineteen and smiled when

Beloved

Soubi lowered his head and sat at the edge of the bed
and now it was Ritsuka who refused to answer.

*just
because it comes from the mind of a wacko, doesn't necessarily mean it's
insane*
- 1
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