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Bibliophile

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Chapter Four

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"I see you have brought the letter again this weekend, Ritsuka."

He corrected the woman speaking, glancing back up at the chessboard tile-ceiling from his position stretched out limply on the long, plaid divan, "That was the one from three months ago. This is a new one." His long-legged psychiatrist stifled a wide, knowing smile at his sharp tone behind one of her scented hands—that liked to linger a few seconds too much on the small of his back when greeting him.

"…is it now?" Amusement could not resist lacing her grainy, womanly voice, "Where did you find this one?"

"The same place before. I use to hide there in the summer right outside the city when my aunt kicked me out of our apartment," Ritsuka said, now glancing at the folded piece of paper with softened eyes. (But.) "I use to tell Seimei about it all the time. I use to write him letters all the time at that square. I don't know whether or not he even gets them anymore. Or if he will come and save me…"

"Do you think you need saving, Ritsuka?"

His fingers slowly rose up to brush the butterfly-shaped bandage (pinkening in the center) on his temple. After a moment of silence, he creased up his letter meticulously, evenly.

"…death is something no one can be saved from."

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The stain on the sidewalk between the park's grass still lingered.

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"What is it about death that fascinates you so much, Ritsuka? Are you fascinated with your own death?"

Her eyes shaded by her cropped brown bangs shine so fixated on him and his blank expression. Her coral-smeared lips purse together and protrude in exaggerated interest. She doesn't really mind that he might be mentally unstable or a victim of abuse; he doesn't understand why she pins her short skirts up on his private appointment days.

Ritsuka snorted, returning to the ceiling. "There's no point in wondering what will happen after I die. I just wonder how I will feel the moment it happens."

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It might have not been polite. (But.) Ritsuka was getting to the bottom of this nonsense.

Whether or not there was a good chance that he could be fired only after the first night.

Where Soubi (this eccentric librarian) was double checking books behind the main desk, the teenager stormed from the stacks where he was previously doing shelf maintenance—slapping the silver butterfly earrings on the desktop near his coworker's elbow, and glaring. Soubi smiled unflinchingly, asking as he examined a small, torn copy of Goodman Brown, "…do you need help in the stacks?"

"Why did you give me these things? What kind of game are you playing with me...?" Ritsuka's purple eyes narrowed. "...because I don't want any part of it."

"It isn't a game, Ritsuka." Soubi replied with— in Ritsuka's opinion— an annoyingly chipper smile, not looking up from the book in his hands as he lazily flipped to another page, "I want you to pierce me. To mark me as your property. As Ritsuka's property. Nothing would make me happier."

His mouth dropped open. "You…" Ritsuka's skin began tingling again, as it had when he first heard the man with the high ponytail laugh, and knotting up with goose bumps at those compassionate and yet bizarre words. He stared in disbelief as the weight of this situation hit him fully. At the other man who had turned to look at him and didn't appear discouraged at all by his reaction. 'Why…?'

The fact also was that Soubi had barely said two words to him since Ritsuka had clocked in (and then trained by their supervisor Miura-san for the first two hours before she went home, leaving them both alone on the first floor)—and to this point in time (9pm and dead of patron life and scheduled to close in an hour).

And it strangely…pissed Ritsuka off in ways he couldn't express vocally. He couldn't remember ever feeling this frustrated.

Ritsuka ran his hands through his short, dark hair, mumbling, shaking his head slowly, "…this can't be happening…it isn't possible that this guy told me to treat him like an object…like some pervert…"

This time, Soubi reacted, frowning as if stung. "I want to be controlled by you, Ritsuka. What is so hard to understand? I want you—"

"—STOP SAYING THAT TO ME! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME!"

As soon the teenager stopped screaming, he clapped his hands over his mouth. Concerned, Soubi went around the desk as Ritsuka started backing away, bug-eyed and face quickly draining of blood. When the older man came too close, he raced for the right wing of the downstairs book stack. Ritsuka made it about as far as inside the middle row of the stacks before he was caught, their bodies colliding. Ritsuka clung instinctively to the knitted bomber jacket in front of him smelling strongly of tobacco and caramel espresso—the saffron-colored fabric pressing scratchy on his cheek.

"Of course I know you…" Soubi murmured into the hug, cupping the side of the boy's face, finger straying just below the space of the butterfly bandage. "…Seimei told me everything about you." Ritsuka stiffened in his grasp before relaxing somewhat. 'How did he...?'

"I don't understand…any of thisI don't understand you..."

The blond man shushed him, touching the back of Ritsuka's burning neck with hurried fingers and with his other hand, brought Ritsuka's palm up to his lips to kiss. The goose bumps grew harder on Ritsuka's body at that brush of the moist, tender skin on Soubi's mouth. All his proper and logical instincts told him to shove this…weirdo away—

(But.)

—he couldn't find the strength to lean away from him…

…is this what hypnotism felt like…? …was this surrendering…?

"Kiss me, Ritsuka."

His small, bandaged hand not held clenched deeper into the jacket, and began to tremble. Timidly, Ritsuka stretched his neck up and closed his eyes. He shrank away a little as a warm, unwonted mouth embraced his, his face flaming red as a potent emotion flourished, orbiting in the pit of his stomach and his nether regions. Ritsuka accepted the weight of Soubi's mouth on his to return the open-mouthed kiss, pushing his mouth up uncertainly but forcefully, closing his lips after a moment.

Soubi chuckled into their kiss, pulling away a moment to tease, "Ritsuka is new to this, I can tell."

"Shut up," Ritsuka snapped, still somewhat dazed by this turn of events. In his overload of feeling and pleasure, he ended up jamming the older man's back up against the nearest stack painfully.

Soubi made no sign of discomfort as they continued where they left off, sliding eager hands, eager tongues together. The younger whimpered muffled behind his lips as those pale, alluring hands delved under the folds of his sweater, mapping out the muscles of his back and shoulders with the precision of a true artist's hands, applying tiny spots of pressure as he went. Ritsuka found that his wrinkled up sweater became too much of a nuisance and discarded it, shivering when Soubi's fingers instead traced the hairless space above his navel.

"Order me to stop if you wish to." Those fingers journeyed lower, as Soubi added lowly with his face buried into his hair, "I don't wish to frighten you away."

"...d-don't...stop..."

Ritsuka could feel where Soubi's excitement stirred, urging against their clothes. He lifted himself higher into the other man's arms, clenching the insides of his legs closer to Soubi's waist. He was thankful that he was not the one with their spine to the bookcase. His confidence wavered for a moment when the teenager felt his jeans unbutton, the comfortable material slipping his thighs as Soubi worked them down. When the blond man felt the arms around his neck go rigid, Ritsuka's face hidden in his sweater, he massaged the his scalp slowly and asked if he was alright.

"...just keep going..."

Soubi obeyed, this time pushing down Ritsuka's underwear, and observing the sight before him. Despite his slender frame, Ritsuka was reasonably equipped— as well as aroused. The goosebumps on Ritsuka's forearms apparently even went to skin once unexposed. Soubi's fingers handled the warm member with mellow curiosity, where he touched swelling and reddening further. The very tip of the member beginning to glisten. The older man used the liquid to spread on his fingers before preparing Ritsuka.

At the first and second finger nudging, Ritsuka arched away from it, turning bright red with embarrassment. "-aah!"

"It will hurt more if you do not relax," said Soubi mildly, kissing the underside of Ritsuka's tensed jaw. The sensation of being stretched with Soubi's fingers and then Soubi himself made Ritsuka bite the heel of his palm until he was certain that he would break skin but somehow... it did not hurt as much as he thought it would after a little while. He was very gentle. Soubi waited for the younger to set the pace, moving against him, into him, the stack behind them starting to groan from the pendulum.

Ritsuka's fingernails dug abrasively into the high collar of Soubi's pullover as a light tickling sensation coursed through his body, followed by the concentrated intensity of the orgasm swallowing everything else he was feeling. Like ripping away from the silk casing of his physical body, spreading, spreading his sticky wings for the first time— warm, chrysalis fluid seeping down his thighs.

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TBC...


Before everyone gets out their pitchforks and flamethrowers, I want you to imagine a long walnut-wood table. Yes. On one end is me with beads of perspiration on my brow and fingernails bleeding because I've picked them down to the pale until there was nothing left. On the other is Ritsuka looking very disgruntled back at me, arms crossed over his chest. Imagine me trying to convince him very gently to go along with the shota of this story- this is purely for the sake of entertainment- you would be making many people happy- you might actually enjoy it. Imagine him flat out refusing. Imagine me eventually slamming my palms on the table and demanding that he sleep with Soubi who is a complete stranger in the story. Imagine him again refusing. Imagine me ordering a rum and Coke.

And that is what has been happening inside my brain for the past five months. End of story. XD

Needless to say, my-fictionalized-and-much-more-of-a-prude-than-regular-fanfiction-Ritsuka ceded (once I slipped him a good portion of my rum). Hallelujah. Everyone's happy. Where is the Tylenol?

I'm sorry about that wait. I really am. I've never had such a problem with trying to update a story. Geez. On top of the inner brain battle was school and everything that goes with it. Same old, I know. I'm crazy because I added another minor on top of my other one. Whatever. As long as it gets me SOMEWHERE in life I guess. Oh, and I caught something nasty and full of virus at my college campus. Seriously, where is the Tylenol? -keels over and dies- Eh. Enough of my bitching. Loveless belongs to Yun Kouga (which I can say right now- I update faster than HER. And that is sad.) Anyone still reading has all of my love and praise and more love that is not contagious and cookies and did I mention love? Cause yeah. You are amazing.