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“Shou-chan really is so adorable, indulging me like this,” is full of sweetness, in the same way that too much sugar can cause cell rupture and subsequent death. “It makes me want to bully you even more~♡”
He stays still, body trembling. It’s just part of Byakuran’s usual games, he knows. His orders are to remain still until Byakuran gives him the signal that he can move. He wonders if he can still be considered to be following orders, given that his chest does rise and fall. But no, he knows Byakuran’s style; he wouldn’t immediately give him an order that could lead to his direct death. He’d want to play with him first, to keep on pushing his limits.
That includes today too. Staying still, seated on Byakuran’s plush couch, while Millefiore’s leader tickled his skin with a bunch of red roses.
“I bought 99 of them, just for you,” is even sweeter. Red petals as pillowy as marshmallows tickle his earlobes, his nape. The white of his Millefiore uniform has already been discarded, leaving him only in his pants and his casual shirt. Byakuran doesn’t seem to mind the sloppy state of his inner clothing—the only thing that matters is the result that he brings to the table, and the fact that he still has value as prey to be played with.
“Thank you for your gift, Byakuran-san,” he whispers, doing his utmost best not to shiver when one of the rose’s thorns catch on his neck. It stings, but it doesn’t draw blood, probably.
“Naughty Shou-chan~♡ I told you not to move,” and it’s accompanied by teasing laughter, and a harder swipe of that thorn against his neck. This time, he’s certain that he bleeds, because Byakuran leans closer and straddles him, licking the blood off his skin. There’s still red on his lips when he pulls back with a demonic smile. “However, that’s just because you’re too moved because of my gift, right? You liked it so much that you can’t help but thank me, right? You’re really too adorable, Shou-chan~”
It’s all nonsense, of course. He knows that. He knows what this man is capable of. He knows that this isn’t the man that he’s considered his sole friend during his university years. He knows that he isn’t some beautiful, scented rose, and is instead a man made of thorns. He knows, he knows, he knows.
“It’s true. It really is beautiful,” he says instead. His stomach churns, like he’s poisoned by his own words.
“Then, Shou-chan would be fine with displaying that on his office, right?”
There’s a video conference meeting later this afternoon, and everyone would see the roses in his office and would think that he truly is Byakuran’s dog.
He knows, he knows, he knows.
“If that’s what Byakuran-san wants,” he says, and lets the poison seep deep into him.
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