“Is this what you want?” Ritsuka finally cried. His hand, small and with a child's softness still, cut through the air and landed with a sharp slap on Soubi's cheek. The sound, a gunshot in the still summer air, shocked them both and for a moment, they only stared at each other.
It was ridiculous; Ritsuka was so short that he could only land a blow on the taller man if Soubi was sitting on the couch, but then Soubi slithered to the floor, kneeling with his knees slightly apart and his right fist planted between them. It was a pose made for the maximum stability. It was a pose that could let a slender boy take a heavy punch without falling over.
Ritsuka was ready to make Soubi stand up, to command it if necessary, but then Soubi looked up at him. It was a strange look, mingled desire with fear, and suddenly Ritsuka wondered what his mother saw when she struck him. Did she see him being this small, this diminished? The blood pounded in his ears and he bared his teeth instinctively. Soubi shivered and looked down and Ritsuka slapped him again.
“I asked you a question,” he barked, his voice loud and harsh in his own ears.
“Is this what you want?” On every word, he slapped Soubi again. On the fourth blow, Soubi's glasses flew off his face. When he stopped, Ritsuka's right palm and Soubi's left cheek were red and glowing, and Soubi nodded.
“Yes, yes please,” he said. It was a fearful confession, but one so full of hope that Ritsuka couldn't resist the pull of it, the need of it.
He commanded Soubi to bend over the chair, and nervously, he bound the Soubi's wrists to the chair legs. He knew that Soubi knew how to do things like this better than he did, but if the older man had offered a single word of advice, he would have called it off. Instead Soubi stood with infinite patience as Ritsuka bound him, not flinching when flesh was pinched between cords, only murmuring a soft thank you when Ritsuka's hand accidentally brushed his skin.
Soubi's belt was large in Ritsuka's small and but he gripped the buckle and wound the loose end around his fist until he thought it was a length he could control. The first blow to Soubi's clothed ass was more muffled than Ritsuka thought it would be, Soubi still jerked and made a strangled noise in his throat.
“One, thank you sir.”
Another ritual that he had no idea how to cope with and suddenly Ritsuka was angry. For the love of god he was only twelve and what the hell did they want from him? At least Soubi knew what he wanted from Ritsuka, at least Soubi was honest about wanting this, but it was bad, he knew he wasn't supposed to do it...
With every angry thought, Ritsuka hit Soubi even harder, only stopping when he saw small dottings of blood start to seep through Soubi's pants. With a small cry, he untied Soubi and allowed himself to be held and comforted, but even as Soubi stroked his hair and murmured sweet things to him, he wondered why the two people he loved best in the world wanted him to be Seimei.