You think I care?
Are you complaining?
Less talking, more fucking.
"But I don't want…"
Then maybe I should just go?
"No, I just meant…"
Nothing, then. Good. Where were we?
He wont listen. He never listens. Why should he listen? Kanda swiftly flipped the redhead onto his stomach. Guess I'm taking, Lavi thought. Again. Never mind that he was tired. Never mind that he was sore. Never mind that he was hollow and breaking.
Kanda gripped Lavi's hair and pulled - Too hard. Tears came to his eyes, but he didn't make a sound. Couldn't make a sound. It wouldn't matter anyway. Why should it? He bit his lip and gripped the pillow in front of him. It wasn't always like this. Or maybe it was, but at least back then he didn't know it. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.
I don't love you.
Back then, the redhead couldn't believe those words. Literally.
I don't even know if I can.
There was too much of a dreamer in those green eyes. He was so sure that he could, that he would be able to help. That it would work. And why should he have? With every tender glance, every coy smile or small kiss, every close breath or warm sigh he grew more sure.
Lust without love, he called it one day. I want you, but I don't love you. I don't feel that connection. It just feels like everyone else. "That's fine. These things take time." Lavi didn't know if he was assuring the samurai or himself.
And it continued the same. One way or another the two would find each other, twisted and tangled in sin, cleaving to the bed of the other. And in the heat of the moment, hanging on his lips, ripe and ready to fall were the words that Lavi knew that man would never say. The words he knew he would always need, but never get. He should have left. Should have, but couldn't. Wouldn't. Wont.
He clung and watched as tender glances and coy smiles turned to fierce desire, as small kisses turned into passionate searches - for what, he didn't know - and close breathes and warm sighs turned into frustrated and impatient grunts.
Kanda moved faster as he came close to finishing what he came for. Lavi breathed a sigh of relief when he was done and rolled over. He felt used and abused and just wanted to be held. Kanda leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. Lavi could barely muster up the little bit of happiness to make him smile, before it was shattered by a soft whisper.
I really wish I could love you.
And with that he lay motionless and watched, like so many times before, as Kanda pulled on his shirt and adjusted his belt. Then he was gone. But Lavi stayed. He couldn't move, didn't ever want to move. He just laid there and mourned the lover he never had, the tears he could no longer cry. That is what it had come to. The Bookman-to-be turned into nothing more than a cheap whore - only worse, for his only payment was to be used.