Loveless- Goodnight Butterfly

Chapter One

The butterfly, so delicate in his hand, was starting to crumble. Slowly, but surely, the tiny legs that were curled up against its body were coming off, and the wings had a rumpled look. The poor, dead, defenseless butterfly, curled and dried, trapped and helpless. Bound not by a Name, but by a frail body so easily destroyed.

“Soubi.” Seimei’s voice caught him by surprise, and he dropped the dead creature onto the bedspread. He quickly scooped it back up and cradled it in his palm. He could feel the bed shift as Seimei’s weight moved closer to him, spilling papers and art supplies onto the floor. Soubi could feel a change in the very air as Seimei grew nearer to him, something desperate he had never be able to keep from washing over him. Ever since the two had met, he had felt this way. A completely unchangeable need for Seimei, for every part of him, for every word that he gave him, harsh or not. Seimei stopped close to him, shifting into a comfortable position. The air around Soubi tingled. “What are you holding?”

Suddenly, Soubi felt silly, sitting on Seimei’s bed with a dead insect clenched protectively in his fist. Childish, even. He had always instinctively felt a certain compassion for the creatures, having watched Ritsu impale them in vast numbers to make them specimens for his collection. When he had found this one in the dust at the road’s edge, moving its wings slowly as it lay on its side, dying, he had immediately been flooded with concern. It had died in his hands on the way to Seimei’s house. And now here it lay, useless and dead, not worth anything without its beautiful life, the flutter of wings the only thing that gave it true beauty. Soubi wished he could have saved it.

“A butterfly, Seimei,” he answered simply, opening his hand to reveal the creature, its deep blue wings even more rumpled from when he had dropped it.

“Why are you carrying a dead bug around with you?” Seimei asked, leaning forward and looking at it. “You’re weird, Soubi. It‘s disgusting.”

“It’s pretty,” Soubi remarked, running a delicate fingertip across its wing. “I thought maybe I could save it.”

“But what would be the point?” Seimei asked him. He tipped his head back and pushed strands of smooth black hair behind his ears. “It’s only a bug. They’re so fragile. They die anyway. And there are plenty more of them.” he paused to give Soubi a calm smile. “We own them… we own their lives, is how simple it is.”

“Just as you own mine…” Soubi’s voice was a soft murmur, but Seimei heard it, turning his eyes on the Sentouki and smiling slightly, though not a smile filled with warmth. He lifted one hand and placed his fingers beneath Soubi’s chin, tilting his head back. The contact made Soubi’s breath catch, and he stared up at Seimei, his deep blue eyes locked on the young boy’s face. He rarely touched him, a compulsion to keep his hands clean made sure of that. The only person Seimei touched was Ritsuka, that younger brother Soubi had only caught glimpses of through his partially closed bedroom door. He was never sure whether it saddened him or made him sick. “…Seimei.”

“But I don’t own you. Not really,” Seimei’s voice was thoughtful. His finger absentmindedly stroked Soubi’s throat, and a shudder passed through his body, the contact of Seimei’s flesh against his own setting off every signal in his body. Soubi’s eyes quivered, locking with Seimei’s. “I want to own you.”

“…S-Seimei…” Soubi could feel a heavy blush creeping over his face. Seimei’s words, coupled with the foreign touch of his hands, were far too much for him to handle. There was a softness in the fingertips that brushed his skin, softness that rarely appeared in Seimei’s dark eyes, burning with their constant contempt for him. The softness was pure pleasure, and Soubi would have given up his right leg to have it continue forever, to stay there in that moment with no words, only this silken contact and the way their eyes were locked this way, as though he could see every part of Seimei’s beautiful, beautiful soul.

“I want you to be my Sentouki… to share my name…” Seimei’s hand strayed downward, brushing over Soubi’s collarbones, touching the top of his chest as it slid under the neckline of his shirt. Soubi could not hold back a small gasp, his blush deepening as the fingers massaged the skin lightly. Oh god, that contact. There was something terribly erotic about being touched his way. This was delicious, irresistible hell.

“S-Seimei… what are you doing? This isn’t like you to-” Seimei’s finger crept over Soubi’s lips, silencing him, and his large, trembling blue eyes met Seimei’s passive ones. The close proximity to Seimei made goosebumps rise up on Soubi’s unnaturally sensitive skin, the very presence of his flesh against his lips making his whole body seem to rise, closer and closer toward heaven. The butterfly slipped from his now-limp hands, fluttering delicately to rest on the white linen of the sheets. Seimei’s long, precise fingers picked it up, holding the thin membrane of the wing between their tips.

“This butterfly, Soubi…” he said, his eyes full of coldness. “This butterfly is beautiful, but utterly useless. Its instincts command it. Without commands, this butterfly is lost. This butterfly is nothing.” he drew back from Soubi very suddenly, and the loss of the contact made him whimper. His body yearned without his consent for Seimei’s, and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral. Seimei tossed the butterfly aside carelessly as he got up from the bed, and Soubi watched it drift to the floor, dead and listless as a snowflake, to rest on the beige of the carpet beside his shoes. Something about the sight of it made him inexplicably heartbroken.

Seimei had crossed the room now and was rummaging through a drawer on his desk. Soubi watched the smooth curve of his Sacrifice’s back with rapt attention, every jerk of his arms setting it in motion and making everything about that boy that would never love him even more hypnotically appealing. Everything about Seimei was attractive. He could make the simplest of everyday motions seem erotic, as he did now, and Soubi agonized over the beauty of that thin, lithe body, completely unaware of anything else.

By the time Seimei found what he was looking for and turned around, Soubi was so lulled into a trance by the beauty of his motions that he snapped back to reality with a jerk, startled. Between the slender fingertips, the raven-haired boy held a thick nail. It was long, covered in a thin sheen of rust, and looked menacing, its tip sharp and devilish. Seimei’s steps across the room to him were slow, almost as though he was moving underwater. Something about the effect scared Soubi, and he stared at his Sacrifice from under a sheath of blond hair, unable to avert his eyes from that thin face so laden with purpose. He had reached the bed now, and it shifted again with his weight as he moved over to Soubi.

“Come here, my little butterfly.” the coldness and desire in Seimei’s voice made Soubi shiver, but he moved closer to the younger boy compliantly, locking their eyes once more. As Soubi reached him, Seimei reached forward and grabbed him by the throat (none too gently) and guided him backward so his back was pressed flat against the bed.

“Seimei,” Soubi blinked up at the aforementioned as he straddled his body, pinning him down. “What are you doing?”

“Owning you.” the simple answer made his blood run cold, and the teenager stared up at his young Sacrifice as the nimble hands removed Soubi‘s shirt and discarded it with some distaste.

“You don’t mean your ears-”

“Oh no, of course not. I’m talking about something different entirely.” he had never seen Seimei like this, with such a fire burning in his dark, dark eyes. It made his insides writhe deliciously, lighting him with a fire of his own. Seimei was on top of him, their bodies were touching in so many places. The places where they touched were warm, and Soubi was torn between the pleasure of Seimei’s warm weight on top of him and the terror of what those intense eyes told him he must be planning. Whatever it was, it could not be safe. “I want you to be my fighter, Soubi. But you belong to your sensei, don’t you?”

“Seimei…” it came out as more of a whimper than a word, laden with anguish at the mere mention of the subject. “I don’t-”

“Ritsu Minami still owns you. I may be your Sacrifice, but Ritsu owns your body, Soubi.” there was something frighteningly unkind in Seimei’s eyes as he spoke these words. “And now I’m going to claim it as my own.”

“But Seimei…” Seimei’s finger against his lips silenced him once more, though this time it was less gentle, more insistent.

“Be quiet, Soubi,” Seimei told him, and at the order Soubi fell immediately silent. He had never been able to resist an order from his master, had come to obey him without question in his desperation to please him. It was along the lines of complete servitude, and he liked it that way. He lay in silent wait for whatever was to befall him then, keeping his eyes locked with his master’s in that sweet, sweet torture. Because it wasn’t that he didn’t want  Seimei to own him. He longed more than anything to be completely possessed by the slender, dark teenager who moved on top of him with ease, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on his Sentouki. And in that silence, he steeled himself for whatever Seimei was going to do, and told himself that it was all for the sake of being owned. Being owned like a pathetic little butterfly.

The first touch of the nail was more of a dream than anything, it was so sudden. Soubi cried out, for the first time in years, not because of the pain but because of the surprise of it all. Seimei, rather than looking angry as Ritsu would have, looked amused. The nail was embedded a fraction of an inch into the flesh of Soubi’s neck, and it felt foreign and cold, an alien presence. The sadistic glint in Seimei’s eyes flashed once more as he dragged the point downward, cutting a trench in Soubi’s skin. He willed himself not to flinch. He would grit his teeth… he would bear it. He clenched his teeth tightly together to keep from reacting to the pain. Several more incisions, a pattern of straight lines, and Soubi could feel the blood beginning to pool in the hollow between his collarbones and drip down his chest.

The nail was suddenly gone. Soubi allowed the air to escape from his lungs and opened his eyes that had been so tightly shut, looking up into his master’s face. The wounds in his neck felt hot, searing, like white hot metal was being pressed against his skin.

“B,” Seimei said with some satisfaction, running a fingertip along the new wound in Soubi’s neck. His sharp intake of breath made the Sacrifice smile. “We’re getting somewhere, Soubi. I’m sorry this hurts, but you’re going to have to grin and bear it, you know.” the nail returned, and Seimei went back to his carving. He cut particularly deep in one spot, and Soubi’s body bucked slightly. “E.”

By now, Soubi was starting to become accustomed to the feeling of the metal cutting him, and he had to clench his teeth less and less tightly. “L.”

He did want to be owned, but not like this.

“O.”

Why was he allowing Seimei to do this? Was it because he loved him? Was it because it was his duty as a Sentouki to do whatever his Sacrifice asked of him?

“V.”

Flap your wings, Soubi, he thought. You are just like that butterfly. You have no control over your own fate. Others decide it for you. Don’t let this continue, fly away.

“E.”

His eyes flickered to the butterfly lying on the carpet, immobile and defenseless. We have no escape.

“D.”

The blood had run in rivulets down his chest by now, onto his stomach, onto the fabric of the bed’s sheets. Seimei leaned downward, a satisfied glint in his dark eyes, down so far that the tip of his nose brushed Soubi’s. “Good boy,” he whispered. His lips brushed Soubi’s briefly, sending sparks exploding through Soubi’s consciousness and chasing away all coherent thought. “Very good.”

Seimei’s body left him then, and Soubi could not hold back a small whimper as he weight left him. As Seimei moved, it shifted Soubi’s body, and the deep pool of blood between his collarbones dribbled in a fresh, warm trail down his chest. Seimei gave him a look of disgust and climbed off of the bed. As his foot hit the floor, it landed on the butterfly.

The Sacrifice grabbed a towel that he had obviously saved for the purpose and tossed it to Soubi. “Clean yourself up, Soubi. We can’t have you bleeding all over the place.” when Seimei moved his foot, the butterfly came into view, crushed, its delicate wings shattered.

Seimei was moving across the room. He paused in the doorway before exiting the room, and gave Soubi a long, intimate stare. “You belong to me, Soubi,” he said distantly before his tall, slender body disappeared into the hallway.

Soubi made no move to grab the towel. Instead, he lay on his side and stared at the butterfly, its small, fragile body as broken now as his was. And together, the two butterflies lay, torn and silent, and bled.

To be continued...