Loveless, Slow Like Honey

Title: Slow Like Honey [Seimei/Soubi/Ritsuka]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17. So very much NC-17. Shota, incest, oh lord, not for the faint of heart.
Summary: “Is this a favorite dream of yours, Sou-chan?”
AN: OH GOD MY INNOCENCE. darkeyedwolf forced me to! *cries*

Slow Like Honey

Soubi wakes to the sound of his name, brushing teasingly over his ears. His eyes feel sticky and his limbs heavy with sleep, even though he’d only meant to doze for a few minutes. The sheets tangle around him when he tries to shifts, hampering his movements lightly.

When he finally does peel open his eyes, it’s to find that he is sharing his bed with both Aoyagi brothers, Seimei sprawled out on his back with Ritsuka draped over his chest. Ritsuka’s face is turned towards Soubi, but his hair falls so that Soubi can’t see his eyes. Seimei is rubbing Ritsuka’s scalp lazily and running his gaze over Soubi; neither Aoyagi seems to be wearing anything. They are close enough that Soubi feels the heat of them in a line down his side, but they look blurred somehow, as if far away. The only sharp edges are Seimei’s smile.

“I’m dreaming,” Soubi murmurs, voice thick and almost swallowed by the pillow his face is half-sunk into. “Again.”

“Is this a favorite dream of yours, Soubi-kun?” Seimei enquires, the teasing running down his spine like a spider. Ritsuka is unmoving, it’s impossible to tell whether he is even breathing since he rises and falls with Seimei’s breath. Soubi wants to reach over to shake him, make sure he is warm and alive, but everything is too heavy to move.

Seimei lifts a hand to brush Soubi’s cheek, and Soubi blinks slowly when Seimei’s fingers dig in against the fresh bruise.

“Fighting without me again,” Seimei admonishes, slipping the hand up a little farther to tug Soubi’s hair. “Ritsuka was worried.”

At the sound of his name, Ritsuka shivers a little, and enough relief washes through Soubi that he can roll a little onto his side, away from the pillow that was making it hard to draw a full breath.

“Ritsuka?” he asks, and the air seems to drain his voice away before it has barely left his mouth, but Seimei smiles again. His fingers, still tangled in a few strands of Soubi’s hair, tighten again.

“I’m not going to hurt my own brother.” Seimei releases Soubi’s hair and grasps Ritsuka’s chin to lift his head enough to kiss. Ritsuka’s hair is still covering his eyes; Seimei’s are on Soubi.

Warmth crackles over the edges of Soubi’s skin. He wants to tell Seimei to stop, but he won’t, wants to snatch Ritsuka away, but can’t. Seimei tilts his head back just far enough to break the kiss, and Ritsuka leans his forehead against Seimei’s neck, nose pressed into the hollow of his throat.

“See?” Seimei asks, then gives a soft ‘hmm’, and Soubi’s eyes stray back down to find Ritsuka kissing Seimei’s collarbone, hands fisted against Seimei’s ribs.

Soubi is still frozen, staring, as Ritsuka drifts slowly down Seimei’s body, Seimei’s hand on his shoulder urging him steadily downward. The silence seems to pour into to fill Soubi’s head, except for the soft whispers of Ritsuka’s lips against Seimei’s chest. His eyes are still hidden as he slides back just far enough to reveal that Seimei is mostly hard, and Soubi’s fingers itch with the need to push the hair out of Ritsuka’s face.

Seimei’s hand moves from Ritsuka’s shoulder when he slides down far enough to nuzzle the base of Seimei’s cock, and reburies itself in Ritsuka’s hair; Soubi’s eyes widen as he finally realizes that Ritsuka’s ears are missing.

“Ritsuka!” Soubi’s hands fist at his sides, but instead of obeying his command to lunge forward, his body merely shudders. Seimei chuckles softly as Ritsuka slides lips over his head.

“Ritsuka’s time with you was well-spent,” he comments as his free hand drifts down to press against Ritsuka’s hip. He coaxes Ritsuka up onto his knees and elbows, legs pressing into the bed on either side of Seimei’s thighs. Seimei slides fingers along the curve of Ritsuka’s rear, Soubi’s eyes trailing along after them helplessly. “You should taste him, Sou-chan,” Seimei’s tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of great favors being done, “it’s a lot easier without the tail in the way.”

And just like that Soubi can move, he surges to his knees and crosses the six inches that separate them, but instead of tugging Ritsuka away, he finds himself curled over Ritsuka’s back, one hand pressed against Ritsuka’s sternum. Ritsuka shivers and the ridges of Ritsuka’s spine dig into Soubi’s chest; Soubi buries his nose in Ritsuka’s hair, but keeps his eyes on Seimei, whose smile seems to have more to do with aesthetic pleasure than the soft sucking sounds which trickle out from underneath Ritsuka’s spill of hair.

“Go on,” Seimei encourages, and Soubi is sliding down Ritsuka’s back before he has a chance to think about it, back until his lips are pressed against a patch of skin over Ritsuka’s tailbone that is paler than the rest. Soubi’s hands skim back from Ritsuka’s chest until they are bracing his thighs, his long fingers curling against soft, hot skin. A long, thin shiver ripples over Ritsuka as Soubi runs his tongue along the crease of his ass, lingering over the wrinkled nub that makes Ritsuka shudder again.

When Soubi presses harder with his tongue, slipping inside just a little, Ritsuka makes a soft noise and shifts away for a moment, then presses back against Soubi’s mouth. In long, slow strokes, Soubi licks into Ritsuka, letting one hand drift higher up the inside of Ritsuka’s thigh until his knuckles are pressing into the soft skin just behind his balls. Ritsuka’s whimpers are muffled by Seimei’s cock, but shiver through Soubi’s hands and mouth.

When he draws back to take a deep breath, Soubi sees Seimei’s hand is still resting on Ritsuka’s shoulder, and when Ritsuka leans as if to move forward, Seimei easily pushes him back.

“Ritsuka wants you, you know,” Seimei says conversationally, the hand in Ritsuka’s hair tightening to push him down a little as Seimei’s hips flex.

“Seimei!” Soubi growls, his voice freer with the taste of Ritsuka heavy on his tongue.

“He does,” Seimei shrugs with one shoulder and fingers the spot where Ritsuka’s ears were. “No reason not to.”

Soubi bristles, but when his back straightens, his erection presses against the crease of Ritsuka’s backside, and both of them make a low noise. Seimei chuckles, tangling his fingers deeper into Ritsuka’s hair and changing the angle of his head just a bit.

“You’re clearly willing,” Seimei clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “I really don’t see what the stalling is about.”

Ritsuka rocks back against Soubi, making Soubi’s grip on his thighs tighten. Soubi wants to pull away, pull back before he hurts Ritsuka, but none of his limbs will move where he wants, and even the air he’s drawing into his lungs seems thick and unyielding.

“Seimei,” Soubi tries speaking again, but the words seem to scatter before he can get his tongue to form them, and then Ritsuka pushes against him again. “Ritsuka.”

“Don’t keep Ritsuka waiting,” Seimei says, still smiling, but his eyes have hardened. Soubi can’t take his eyes off Seimei, the rise and fall of his chest and the way the strands of his hair spill carelessly from between his ears, but Soubi claws together enough will to raise a hand and spit into his palm.

Seimei’s nose twitches at the inelegance of it, but he doesn’t stop Soubi as he lowers his hand to stroke himself, spreading what little slickness his saliva offers. He moves his hand to Ritsuka and presses it against the skin he’d been sucking a few moments before, and is surprised when one finger slides partway in past the wet, twitching skin. Ritsuka shudders underneath Soubi’s hands but doesn’t pull away or cry out.

Torn between trying to go slowly and moving before the wetness of the spit began to dry, Soubi slides a second finger in as well, hot and cold sparking under his skin at the press of Ritsuka around him. Soubi can feel a heartbeat pulsing through his fingers when Ritsuka shifts and Soubi is drawn deeper inside, but he isn’t sure whose heartbeat it is.

“Now, Soubi,” Seimei says, rising up on his elbows for a better look, and there’s no ambiguity in the command this time. Tugging his fingers loose, Soubi holds Ritsuka’ hip steady with one hand and lines himself up with the other, heart stuttering a little as his tip presses against heated, slick skin.

And then Ritsuka is pushing back against Soubi, being pushed back by Seimei’s long fingers against his shoulder, and as Soubi slips just inside, Ritsuka makes a thin, shrill noise that tears right through Soubi until the only part of him that’s warm is the part buried inside Ritsuka.

He feathers hands over Ritsuka’s back and hips, stroking the bumps of Ritsuka’s spine and the ridges of his ribs with palms that feel clammy against Ritsuka’s skin. Ritsuka is panting, his neck stiff rather than bobbing up and down, but his gasps for air sound muffled, leaking out around Seimei’s length in his mouth.

“Ritsuka,” Soubi hisses. He’s a little over halfway in, and tries to draw back, but Ritsuka’s body follows him. He tightens his grip on Ritsuka, but when he pushes back in slowly, Ritsuka’s sudden thrust backwards slips through his fingers, taking him in until Ritsuka is brushing the fronts of his thighs.

He means to snap Seimei’s name again, his teeth grinding in anger and want, but then he notices that Seimei’s hand has fallen from Ritsuka’s shoulder.

Seimei catches Soubi’s gaze and smirks, eyes falling half-lidded as he arches just a little to get Ritsuka back into his rhythm, and Ritsuka’s shiver wrenches a moan from Soubi. Soubi thrusts a little, then a little more, making Ritsuka rock forward onto Seimei. Seimei gasps “yes” and Soubi only manages to keep from replying “understood” because his jaw is clenched so tight it may as well be welded.

Ritsuka’s heat spreads out over Soubi like kudzu, wrapping tendrils up his chest and around his thighs until he is dizzy with it, hands roaming over Ritsuka’s back in a vain search for cooler skin. Ritsuka gasps or moans or whines every time Soubi moves, and Seimei’s breath hitches at each sound as Soubi watches. Soubi can’t tear his eyes away from Seimei, even the rise and fall of his chest issuing orders that Soubi can’t disobey; at least, not when Ritsuka is ordering the same things with every shift of his hips.

Seimei puts both hands on Ritsuka’s shoulders and pushes him suddenly, hard enough to make Soubi stumble back so that his legs are folded underneath him, and Ritsuka lands heavily on his lap, taking Soubi even deeper with a hoarse cry. Soubi moves his hands from Ritsuka’s thighs to wrap around his waist, holding him steady, and watches Seimei wrap a hand around his own cock and stroke slowly.

“Don’t stop,” Seimei says, as if that is even an option, and he lifts himself up a little with one elbow as his hand settles into a steady squeeze-pull-twist, his head glistening and slick from Ritsuka’s mouth where it slides out between his fingers.

Shifting one arm up so it wraps tightly across Ritsuka’s chest, Soubi thrusts up, rising to his knees slightly. Ritsuka, knees splayed to either side of Soubi’s lap, lets his head fall back against Soubi’s shoulder and shudders as he lets Soubi shift him until the angle of Soubi’s cock sliding into him isn’t so awkward.

Still unable to see Ritsuka’s face, Soubi’s eyes are on Seimei, and Seimei’s eyes are on both of them, his gaze heavy as he assesses the situation. A cold smile curls one corner of his mouth, but before he can get any words out, Soubi drops the hand that isn’t bracing Ritsuka’s chest to wrap tightly around Ritsuka’s cock.

The moan that spills from Ritsuka’s throat vibrates against Soubi’s chest and seems to hang in the thick air, and Seimei is startled silent, his lips, partway open to give another command, suck in a sharp breath instead, and his fingers tighten against the base of his shaft.

Soubi swallows his own moan at the feel of Ritsuka pulsing in his hand, tacky with precome, and unbelievably, when he strokes Ritsuka at the same pace of his thrusts, Ritsuka tightens around him even more, until Soubi’s head is buzzing with the heat and the sound. Ritsuka’s noises are sharp, the gasps and cries leaving trails like honey over Soubi’s skin, and he has to close his eyes to the way Seimei thrusts into his own hand in response, arching faster into white-knuckled fingers.

Bending his head to bury his face in Ritsuka’s hair, Soubi shudders hard enough to break his rhythm when Seimei gives a long groan, and droplets like hot candle wax scatter over the parts of Soubi’s thighs that Ritsuka isn’t pressed against.

Ritsuka moans something that is almost a word, and one of his arms comes back to snake around Soubi’s neck, pressing himself closer. Soubi’s hand slides over him quicker, more tightly, thanks to Seimei’s contribution, and Ritsuka’s next cry is clearly “Soubi!”

Ritsuka clutches at Soubi tighter, takes him deeper, and thrusts against him harder, and Soubi wants to flow over every inch of Ritsuka, but it’s Ritsuka who bursts first, twisting his head around to wail Soubi’s name against his throat like a choked heartbeat. Soubi crushes Ritsuka to him, closing his fist around the top of Ritsuka’s cock, jealously limiting Ritsuka from marking Seimei as well as himself.

His own orgasm catches him by surprise in the midst of Ritsuka’s; he flexes into Ritsuka helplessly, heat sparking along every inch of his skin and pouring from every pore. One of them is shaking violently, the impact of Ritsuka’s head against Soubi’s jaw making him bite his tongue and taste copper.

“Come here.”

He can barely hear the order, but collapses forward before the full meaning has even trickled through his brain. When he stops falling, and the room stops spinning, Soubi finds himself stretched out beside Seimei, his ankles pricking mercilessly from holding his weight for too long, and Ritsuka is cradled in between them, face pressed to Seimei’s side.

Seimei murmurs something else, but Soubi’s blood is roaring through his ears as he sees Seimei trail a few of Soubi’s long blond hairs lazily through his fingers. He can’t breathe, and it feels like he is moving through warm honey as he presses his forehead to the back of Ritsuka’s neck and lets his eyes crash shut.

When he opens them again, dizzy and sleep-fur coating his tongue, Soubi takes a few long seconds to shake off the pain of rising to wakefulness too fast from too deep. Late afternoon sunlight stretches weak golden fingers across the room, and Ritsuka is tucked beside him, hair stirring between dark ears as he breathes evenly.

Soubi tries to shift, to sit up, his elbows not holding him the first time. His legs are hopelessly tangled in his sheets and his pants are twisted, and when he flexes his ankles, fire shoots through them as blood flow returns. He reaches over and shakes Ritsuka by the shoulder, the pale blue cotton of Ritsuka’s shirt scratching the pads of his fingers, as if they are too sensitive.

“Ritsuka,” he murmurs, panic catching on tiny edges on his voice, “Ritsuka, wake up.”

Ritsuka wakes up slowly as well, stirring and breath hitching before it truly happens, and his eyes open slowly, the violet of his irises dark and warm with sleep.

“What?” he asks irritably, just before Soubi yanks him up into a crushing hug. He ignores Ritsuka’s slow and weak shoves as he buries his nose in the hair between Ritsuka’s ears, breath rattling unsteadily in his chest.

“Dream,” he mutters, “dream again…”

“Soubi!” Ritsuka yowls, now really waking up enough to push Soubi away with some effect. “Fuck, what time is it?! You said you were only going to sleep for a few minutes! Do you know how late I’ll be for curfew?!”

Soubi kisses Ritsuka into silence, hard and possessive, wrapping arms around him more tightly. Ritsuka goes still, but drops his hands from where they were shoving against Soubi’s chest.