kingdom hearts: riku's glasses
Title: Riku's Glasses
Author: kel_fish
Fandom: Kingdom Heeeaaaaaarts
Pairing: Riku/Sora
Rating: M (or NC-17? Sora does some interesting things with his mouth and Riku is much pleased)
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts belongs to SquareEnix, Disney, and others who aren’t I.
Author's Note: So... some of you might remember Sora's Socks from... a year ago. This is the prequel, written for onee_omi's birthday. Happy 21st, Original and Best! This fic also received caseyvalhalla's stamp of approval, so I guess this means it's worth posting, right?
Summary: The things Riku does for Sora...
Sora dropped his pencil onto his notebook with a satisfying thunk, rolled over on his back on his bed and stretched his limbs as far as they could go, feeling that sweet pull on tendon and bone that was almost pain as tension released. He glanced behind him at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand, waited for the numbers to flip themselves over in his upside-down view and grinned at the time: only eight o’clock, much sooner than he’d expected. His homework called for the first three chapters of Catcher In the Rye and he’d prepared himself for a chapter a night for processing before he scribbled out something for each question on his literary analysis-then he’d actually cracked open the book and found that once again, high school-issued novels had godawful summaries on their back covers. Now all of his homework was out of the way for the rest of the weekend and as a reward he had an entire Friday night at his disposal.
There really wasn’t much of an issue regarding what he was going to do with his time, with Riku home alone only a few houses away and thinking he was stuck there doing laundry all night because Sora had holed himself up with classic literature, a bottle of Coke, and a mini-bag of circus animal cookies-brain food, even if Riku would say otherwise. Sora grinned, spread his arms and legs wide once more, then sprang from the bed, leaving an unmade, rumpled mess behind. He rushed into the bathroom for a quick shower, eager to spend some time alone with Riku while his parents were out on one of their monthly dates; hours alone with his boyfriend, no pressing concerns for the rest of the weekend, and Sora couldn’t get the shampoo out of his hair fast enough, nearly suffering the sting of soap in his eyes.
He threw on clothes quickly, struggling with a neck hole that tried to serve as a sleeve and accidentally shoving two feet into one pant leg, the beginnings of anticipation buzzing on the pads of his feet, the tips of his fingers, filling up his thoughts and tugging his lips back in a wide grin. He hopped around trying to get his shoes on, too eager to take the time to sit down and untie them first and nearly costing himself a face full of carpet for his effort. With one last look in the mirror, finding that everything matched, Sora called out to let his mother know he was going to Riku’s and left the house, new enough to the ever-present jitter of emotions that came with having a steady boyfriend to pop a mint on his tongue as a precaution and execute one more bout of finger-combing through unruly spikes, but also familiar enough with hanging out with a best friend to lock the door behind him. The fact that he bounded down the street and nearly flipped over the picket fence for his impatience was beside the point.
He rounded Riku’s driveway, empty of any vehicles, and the buzz of anticipation grew to a sort of hum underneath his skin like static electricity as he went up the porch steps two at a time. Riku was inside, alone, and his parents weren’t expected back until much later that night, and now that neither of them had anything pressing to do all weekend… Sora knocked twice on the door, just to announce his presence, and let himself in when he found it unlocked-Riku’s family didn’t lock up unless they were away or sleeping. He closed the door behind him kicked off his shoes haphazardly, padded down the hallway toward the sound of what seemed to be an old sitcom playing on the television in the living room.
He found Riku sprawled out on the right side of his dad’s prized black leather couch, tucked securely into the corner with his left arm and leg draped haphazardly, his right leg stretched out on the glass coffee table and his right hand curled up against his side and holding the remote. His long hair looked white in the glow of the television, a little damp and just on the casual side of disheveled, falling over a pair of simple, black wire-framed glasses. His skin was pale where it wasn’t covered with dark boxers and a baggy, black tee shirt; boredom was etched in his posture, in a sigh, in the basketful of unfolded laundry on the table beside his leg.
He looked up from whatever show he wasn’t watching when he noticed Sora’s arrival, sat up straighter and shrugged off his lethargy to offer a welcoming grin. “Give up already?” He rose his right arm up over his head and arched his back to flex tired limbs before patting the lonely sofa cushion next to him, his other leg dropping to the floor to make room. “Lazy bum,” he teased, voice lilting a few octaves higher to mimic one of Kairi’s favorite terms of endearment.
Sora laughed, cleared the living room with a familiar stride and dropped down on the sofa beside Riku, arm curling around the other boy’s shoulders just as easily as Riku’s arm slipped around his waist and drew him in for a kiss, unhurried and simple. They pulled away grinning, and Sora jabbed Riku in the ribs with his free hand. “I already finished, jerk,” he said, shooting a pointed glance at the laundry on the table. “And what happened to laundry day?”
Riku kissed Sora’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth, smirk still in place. “I’m too cool for chores on a Friday night.” His voice was warm, his face close enough to Sora’s that his breath ghosted against his lips.
Sora stuck out his tongue, wriggled back into the couch so he was snug against Riku’s side, smelling fresh laundry detergent and that faint scent of coconut and lime soap that always seemed to linger on his skin, the spice of his deodorant a little heady as Sora inhaled; he must have showered recently, too. He tilted his head, rested it on the arm wrapped around the other boy’s shoulders and brushed his lips against his jaw, shaven and smooth. Riku dipped his head, pressed a responding kiss to Sora’s forehead, then looked away for a moment to turn off the television.
Vision adjusting to the change, Sora noticed Riku’s smirk first, subtle but still evident in profile, mirroring the one Sora was sure he wore himself. Riku turned his head slowly, his features lit by the dim stove light in the kitchen, the glow faint enough to illuminate his eyes without reflecting the glare in his glasses. Sora’s grin softened, became something more appreciative, and he reached up with his other hand to run the pad of his thumb along the right leg of the glasses, just over Riku’s temple.
Green irises darkened, flashed with uncertainty, and the arm around Sora’s waist tensed as Riku’s other hand began to lift almost unconsciously from the remote to remove his glasses; they’d never been a secret, but Riku rarely wore them in public, something he only needed for reading or when his eyes felt a little too strained. Sora reached up and grasped Riku’s wrist before his hand reached its destination, the action unhurried, more like a request than a plea as he watched the other boy’s features carefully, almost enraptured. Riku’s eyes rolled upward, finished their arc on the hand holding his wrist. “What do you even see in these things anyway?” he asked, his grin sardonic and barely there as his eyes traveled up slowly to rest just below Sora’s, not quite meeting them while he waited for an answer.
While Riku’s glasses were common knowledge to anyone who spent a substantial amount of time around him, Sora’s fascination with them was considerably more private, and something he had yet to really analyze, put into words. An attraction that seemed almost as inexplicable to him as it was to Riku, Sora had simply looked up one day during a typical all-night gaming tournament, watched Riku push his glasses back into place with his index finger when they’d managed to slide just a little too far down his nose, and hadn’t been able to look away, losing a round of Soul Calibre and putting Riku in the lead by three until Sora kissed him and both became a little too caught up in making out on the couch to care about the score.
Sora tried now, paused to consider the way black wire rested on Riku’s nose, the paint chipped away on the left leg after wear and tear in a thin protective case crammed into the bottom of his backpack, the right lens just a little smudged by fingers that forgot it was there as they smoothed back unruly bangs. Nothing special about the glasses themselves, but behind them was a myriad of emotions that Sora couldn’t look away from: embarrassment, resignation, exasperation, mirrored desire, all flitting across his face and plain for him to see. Riku was perfect with his movie-star looks, a soft voice that never failed to send a shiver up his spine when he'd lean in and speak low, lips brushing against his ear. But when he wore his glasses, Riku’s usual confidence was countered with the unknown, with a plain sort of vulnerability that Sora usually had to burrow under his armor to find, and that was beautiful.
“I see you,” he said finally, simple in his smile, issued a one-shoulder shrug because that was enough, and kissed Riku just as simply when the other boy’s uncertainty faded, bolstered by reassurance and that instinctual drive to tease, bait, compete that just made them Riku and Sora. He kissed him again as Riku’s lips parted to issue a taunt-who else would you see?-and released his hold on his wrist, threaded his fingers into fine hair, dragged his nails gently over the sensitive scalp in the way he knew would make Riku shiver, a crooked smirk of his own tilting his mouth as whatever words that were about to be said were forgotten. He pulled away, still leaning in close, the cotton of their shirts rustling, and licked his lips when Riku’s hand settled on the dip of his lower back, fingers poised just above the waistband of his cut-offs. He could see anticipation behind Riku’s glasses, reflecting his own as they both thought of the rest of the night to spend together and no parents.
Sora arched his back just enough that Riku’s fingers slipped against skin, slid under rough denim and pushed against the fabric of his boxers. He pulled on the hair in his hand, the pressure gentle but still enough to draw out the groan he wanted to hear, smiled as Riku’s eyes fluttered shut and his hand inched underneath Sora’s underwear, fingers rubbing and pressing in little circles until he was biting his lip, drawing it between his grinning teeth and sliding it back and forth between them in a rough line until it tickled and he released, laughing at the sensation. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, finding it warm and still tingling, swelling, and chuckled when Riku’s eyes opened to watch him, silently call him a dork.
He shrugged, cocked his head and maintained their close proximity to see irises darken again as he twisted in Riku’s arms, buried his left leg into the corner of the couch so he was in Riku’s lap, straddling his hips. Riku’s breaths were shallow but still steady, his arms still firm around Sora’s waist, but his eyes were wide and hungry, eager, lips light where they were pressed together and jaw squared and firm while he swallowed. Sora lifted the arm resting against Riku’s neck, propped his elbow on the other boy’s shoulder to trace the pad of his thumb along his temple, just grazing along the metal of his glasses.
Riku’s eyes dilated, breath hitching in his throat, and Sora released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, still alternately twirling and stroking smooth, cool platinum hair as his boyfriend forgot to be calm and collected, large, adept hands traveling further under clothing. Sora followed suit, dropping the hand in Riku’s hair to the collar of his shirt, hooking washed-out material with his index finger and tugging, massaging the thin, satiny skin over his collarbone, then releasing his hold and going further down to burrow under the hem and splay against his abdomen, feeling Riku warm and hard and clean under his palm. Sora’s own stomach fluttered, hints of delicious tension beginning to coil somewhere in his gut, and he smiled bright and wide, body suddenly filled to the brim with restless energy that needed to be spent, shared, savored; he wanted to watch Riku ride through the waves of it, too.
The hand underneath Riku’s shirt explored, flitted and rubbed and pinched, anything that would feel different on Sora’s fingertips as he covered as much of Riku as he could. His other hand snaked around to the nape of Riku’s neck, thumb circling the base of his spine as fingers played with baby-fine hairs, his eyes widening as Riku’s narrowed, their lips parting in tandem and kissing slow, wet, deep, bringing another burst of laughter out of Sora when Riku’s tongue tickled the roof of his mouth. Sora could feel Riku swell between his legs, rising with him and rocking steady to their rhythm like waves in the ocean, tempo picking up as Riku’s eyes stormed under lids that were at half-mast, as Sora’s roved over anything they could drink in.
Sora lifted himself off of his place on Riku’s lap, bracing his weight with his knees on the couch so he was just looking down on him, pressing quick, shallow kisses against whatever part of his face happened to be closest as his hand made its journey under Riku’s shirt from his sternum to rest on the waistband of his boxers. He kept their faces close, breaths mingling and warming already darkened cheeks, and Riku’s hair was mussed, his lips reddened and beginning to mouth Sora’s name, tongue darting out to lap at bruised flesh. Sora trained his eyes on Riku’s, watched that green tempest roil; he wanted to sink in it, wanted to lose himself and see Riku go down with him.
His smile was everything he wanted Riku to see as his palm cupped him through his boxers, pressed close to feel the heat, the girth, the pulse, his wrist pressing against his own erection in their close proximity. “Sora,” Riku finally gasped, brewing storm temporarily passive as one hand stopped digging into Sora’s hip to hold his wrist. “We’re on my dad’s couch,” he said, voice soft and distracted, still hot and trying to remain still, in control. “We can’t mess it up.”
“Riku,” he murmured, tasting the name on his tongue and still finding it just as delicious as he ever had, feeling Riku shudder underneath him, against him, eyes almost closing. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet with the condom he always kept with him for emergencies, flashing Riku a grin bursting with mischievous intent and a wild energy that felt electric under his skin; they could have gone up to Riku’s bedroom, but Sora wanted to see his boyfriend come undone, join him in his recklessness like he’d always convinced him to before. He presented the condom in his hand with a flourish. “Don’t worry about it.”
Riku’s eyes narrowed at the lilt in his voice, his natural instinct to spar rising to the smug challenge in Sora’s sparkling eyes. He brought his hand back to Sora’s hip, gripped him tight and brought him down on his lap, bucked once and held Sora still so they rubbed together sharply, sending a sharp burst of heat up Sora’s spine. He moaned, bit his lip and watched Riku’s features twist and glint around a smirk, then responded with one of his own as his other hand tangled deeper into Riku’s hair and pulled, just enough to observe dazed eyes and a tongue catch between teeth before a sigh, “Sora…”
Sora pounced on his opportunity, shifted in Riku’s slackening grip and reached into his boxers, a grin of triumph lighting up all corners of his face when Riku’s breath hitched at the direct contact as Sora stroked the head of his erection with his thumb, dragged his nail lightly along the vein. One more choked gasp and Riku’s hips lifted off the couch, bucked into his and left Sora biting his tongue for focus as he took the silent invitation and yanked down Riku’s underwear until he was exposed. He ripped open foil with his teeth, pulled out the condom and locked eyes with his boyfriend as he rolled it on, taking his time, greedily drinking up every flash of impatience and are you kidding me? while Riku remained sprawled out on the couch, legs and arms spread wide and bracing as he tried to relax, to win somehow.
Sora’s smile was predatory, gleaming and victorious as he lowered himself down onto the floor, sliding against thin boxers and smooth leather and the sweet friction of Riku’s legs against his hands. He settled on his knees on the carpet, palms pressed flat on his boyfriend’s thighs, fingers twitching at the feel of toned, lean muscle beneath them; powerful and still and waiting for him. His eyes traveled slowly to meet enraptured sea green, watching his body tense with that reserved power, kept meeting his gaze as he dipped his head between those thighs, opened his mouth and took in the heat and musk that was Riku, best friend and rival and lover for as much of his life as he could remember.
His progress was slow, restrained, licking and sucking, grazing and humming, hands massaging and cupping, rolling and squeezing, exploring Riku and what made him sigh, jerk, groan, buck, clutch the sofa, dig his heels into the floor, bury his fingers into Sora’s wild hair and clutch until the sting of tears blurred the intensity of his gaze. Riku was just barely meeting his eyes, lids lowered and nearly closed completely, mouth quietly panting his name in short, shaky bursts of air, his limbs beginning to draw in close to his body as his core tensed and coiled, ready and begging for him to let go. Sora moaned deep in his throat at the sight, nearly choked when Riku reacted to the vibration, mouth stretching in as much of a grin as he could manage-Riku was gorgeous like this, thought forsaken for emotion, words nonsensical and movements sporadic, and only Sora ever got to witness it, something just for him.
Sora’s hand dropped to the fly of his cut-offs, almost of its own accord, flicking open the button and tugging down the zipper with a hurried snick, easing some of the pained pressure on his own erection as his fingers plunged under his boxers and wrapped around it, held it at the base, squeezed and made himself groan, refusing to let himself be swept away until Riku was pulled under first. His eyes were still locked on Riku’s and he saw them widen, the green seeming to melt and darken behind glasses he’d long forgotten to be self-conscious about, maelstrom swirling fathomless around dilated pupils, and one strangled, “Sora, I’m…” He inhaled sharply as Sora took him deep into his throat, let him slip out, sucked hard on the tip and stroked him with his free hand. Then Riku’s eyes closed tight and his head tossed back against the couch, body arching and jerking as Sora guided him through the chaos.
Riku swore, loud and uncaring, and Sora felt his own control shatter, hand stroking himself under his clothes just as desperately, the power in his gut bursting and pulling free until he couldn’t see, eyes closing and body curling around the molten heat flowing from his core, almost unbearable as the image of Riku giving in to him still burned behind his eyelids. His head tilted to the side, mouth slack as Riku slipped free, and he issued a swear of his own before collapsing against the spent boy on the couch, both panting and murmuring “love you” and nonsense until Riku brought his arms around him, brought him up from the floor and laid back against the couch so they were curled around each other and touching, soothing as breaths evened out and skin cooled.
Sora buried both hands into Riku’s sweat-damp hair, brought him in close and kissed him, lazy and slow, shivered as Riku’s long fingers carded through his own matted hair. They broke away just as slow, no rush to do anything else, and Sora brought one of his hands down to trace pale eyebrows with his index finger, run over the frame of his glasses, trail down the bridge of his nose and settle on his mouth, laugh when Riku kissed his finger, took it into his mouth to nip at it lightly with his teeth, smirk returning to his features with familiar ease. They just laid there, eyes on each other and smiling until inaction became uncomfortable, condom and clothing demanding attention, and they both rose from the sofa with a collective sigh that still held a conspiratorial grin: plenty of time to continue upstairs before the house would be occupied again.
They traveled upstairs together, pausing frequently to kiss, nuzzle, tease, their usual banter accompanying them all the way to the bedroom. Riku removed his glasses and set them in their protective case so the wire wouldn't bend out of shape in bed. Clothes were shed, Riku making quick work of his boxers and shirt, and his hand rested on Sora’s elbow when he sat on the bed, bent over to remove his socks. Sora looked up, eyebrows furrowed in an unspoken query.
Riku’s cheeks flushed light pink, but he shrugged and licked his lips, a glint in his eyes. “Leave them on,” he requested, thumb and index finger smoothing circles over Sora’s arm just as Sora had done to him earlier. “I liked the way they felt last time. You know, after school?” His grin was drawn out and content in a way that reminded Sora of a cat.
It was Sora’s turn to blush, eyes darting down to look at the socks he’d thrown on before hurrying over to Riku’s; tube socks he usually reserved for gym class. Riku liked these? Sora’s eyebrows raised, looking back up at Riku searchingly; there was no malice in his expression, even if that ever-present dare was calling out to him, tipping over to Riku’s side for this game. Besides, Riku had just worn a pair of glasses for him, so what was a pair of tube socks? Still, never to be one to shrug off a challenge, Sora leaned back on the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them to put the socks on display, baring his teeth in a grin, you’re on.
Author: kel_fish
Fandom: Kingdom Heeeaaaaaarts
Pairing: Riku/Sora
Rating: M (or NC-17? Sora does some interesting things with his mouth and Riku is much pleased)
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts belongs to SquareEnix, Disney, and others who aren’t I.
Author's Note: So... some of you might remember Sora's Socks from... a year ago. This is the prequel, written for onee_omi's birthday. Happy 21st, Original and Best! This fic also received caseyvalhalla's stamp of approval, so I guess this means it's worth posting, right?
Summary: The things Riku does for Sora...
Sora dropped his pencil onto his notebook with a satisfying thunk, rolled over on his back on his bed and stretched his limbs as far as they could go, feeling that sweet pull on tendon and bone that was almost pain as tension released. He glanced behind him at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand, waited for the numbers to flip themselves over in his upside-down view and grinned at the time: only eight o’clock, much sooner than he’d expected. His homework called for the first three chapters of Catcher In the Rye and he’d prepared himself for a chapter a night for processing before he scribbled out something for each question on his literary analysis-then he’d actually cracked open the book and found that once again, high school-issued novels had godawful summaries on their back covers. Now all of his homework was out of the way for the rest of the weekend and as a reward he had an entire Friday night at his disposal.
There really wasn’t much of an issue regarding what he was going to do with his time, with Riku home alone only a few houses away and thinking he was stuck there doing laundry all night because Sora had holed himself up with classic literature, a bottle of Coke, and a mini-bag of circus animal cookies-brain food, even if Riku would say otherwise. Sora grinned, spread his arms and legs wide once more, then sprang from the bed, leaving an unmade, rumpled mess behind. He rushed into the bathroom for a quick shower, eager to spend some time alone with Riku while his parents were out on one of their monthly dates; hours alone with his boyfriend, no pressing concerns for the rest of the weekend, and Sora couldn’t get the shampoo out of his hair fast enough, nearly suffering the sting of soap in his eyes.
He threw on clothes quickly, struggling with a neck hole that tried to serve as a sleeve and accidentally shoving two feet into one pant leg, the beginnings of anticipation buzzing on the pads of his feet, the tips of his fingers, filling up his thoughts and tugging his lips back in a wide grin. He hopped around trying to get his shoes on, too eager to take the time to sit down and untie them first and nearly costing himself a face full of carpet for his effort. With one last look in the mirror, finding that everything matched, Sora called out to let his mother know he was going to Riku’s and left the house, new enough to the ever-present jitter of emotions that came with having a steady boyfriend to pop a mint on his tongue as a precaution and execute one more bout of finger-combing through unruly spikes, but also familiar enough with hanging out with a best friend to lock the door behind him. The fact that he bounded down the street and nearly flipped over the picket fence for his impatience was beside the point.
He rounded Riku’s driveway, empty of any vehicles, and the buzz of anticipation grew to a sort of hum underneath his skin like static electricity as he went up the porch steps two at a time. Riku was inside, alone, and his parents weren’t expected back until much later that night, and now that neither of them had anything pressing to do all weekend… Sora knocked twice on the door, just to announce his presence, and let himself in when he found it unlocked-Riku’s family didn’t lock up unless they were away or sleeping. He closed the door behind him kicked off his shoes haphazardly, padded down the hallway toward the sound of what seemed to be an old sitcom playing on the television in the living room.
He found Riku sprawled out on the right side of his dad’s prized black leather couch, tucked securely into the corner with his left arm and leg draped haphazardly, his right leg stretched out on the glass coffee table and his right hand curled up against his side and holding the remote. His long hair looked white in the glow of the television, a little damp and just on the casual side of disheveled, falling over a pair of simple, black wire-framed glasses. His skin was pale where it wasn’t covered with dark boxers and a baggy, black tee shirt; boredom was etched in his posture, in a sigh, in the basketful of unfolded laundry on the table beside his leg.
He looked up from whatever show he wasn’t watching when he noticed Sora’s arrival, sat up straighter and shrugged off his lethargy to offer a welcoming grin. “Give up already?” He rose his right arm up over his head and arched his back to flex tired limbs before patting the lonely sofa cushion next to him, his other leg dropping to the floor to make room. “Lazy bum,” he teased, voice lilting a few octaves higher to mimic one of Kairi’s favorite terms of endearment.
Sora laughed, cleared the living room with a familiar stride and dropped down on the sofa beside Riku, arm curling around the other boy’s shoulders just as easily as Riku’s arm slipped around his waist and drew him in for a kiss, unhurried and simple. They pulled away grinning, and Sora jabbed Riku in the ribs with his free hand. “I already finished, jerk,” he said, shooting a pointed glance at the laundry on the table. “And what happened to laundry day?”
Riku kissed Sora’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth, smirk still in place. “I’m too cool for chores on a Friday night.” His voice was warm, his face close enough to Sora’s that his breath ghosted against his lips.
Sora stuck out his tongue, wriggled back into the couch so he was snug against Riku’s side, smelling fresh laundry detergent and that faint scent of coconut and lime soap that always seemed to linger on his skin, the spice of his deodorant a little heady as Sora inhaled; he must have showered recently, too. He tilted his head, rested it on the arm wrapped around the other boy’s shoulders and brushed his lips against his jaw, shaven and smooth. Riku dipped his head, pressed a responding kiss to Sora’s forehead, then looked away for a moment to turn off the television.
Vision adjusting to the change, Sora noticed Riku’s smirk first, subtle but still evident in profile, mirroring the one Sora was sure he wore himself. Riku turned his head slowly, his features lit by the dim stove light in the kitchen, the glow faint enough to illuminate his eyes without reflecting the glare in his glasses. Sora’s grin softened, became something more appreciative, and he reached up with his other hand to run the pad of his thumb along the right leg of the glasses, just over Riku’s temple.
Green irises darkened, flashed with uncertainty, and the arm around Sora’s waist tensed as Riku’s other hand began to lift almost unconsciously from the remote to remove his glasses; they’d never been a secret, but Riku rarely wore them in public, something he only needed for reading or when his eyes felt a little too strained. Sora reached up and grasped Riku’s wrist before his hand reached its destination, the action unhurried, more like a request than a plea as he watched the other boy’s features carefully, almost enraptured. Riku’s eyes rolled upward, finished their arc on the hand holding his wrist. “What do you even see in these things anyway?” he asked, his grin sardonic and barely there as his eyes traveled up slowly to rest just below Sora’s, not quite meeting them while he waited for an answer.
While Riku’s glasses were common knowledge to anyone who spent a substantial amount of time around him, Sora’s fascination with them was considerably more private, and something he had yet to really analyze, put into words. An attraction that seemed almost as inexplicable to him as it was to Riku, Sora had simply looked up one day during a typical all-night gaming tournament, watched Riku push his glasses back into place with his index finger when they’d managed to slide just a little too far down his nose, and hadn’t been able to look away, losing a round of Soul Calibre and putting Riku in the lead by three until Sora kissed him and both became a little too caught up in making out on the couch to care about the score.
Sora tried now, paused to consider the way black wire rested on Riku’s nose, the paint chipped away on the left leg after wear and tear in a thin protective case crammed into the bottom of his backpack, the right lens just a little smudged by fingers that forgot it was there as they smoothed back unruly bangs. Nothing special about the glasses themselves, but behind them was a myriad of emotions that Sora couldn’t look away from: embarrassment, resignation, exasperation, mirrored desire, all flitting across his face and plain for him to see. Riku was perfect with his movie-star looks, a soft voice that never failed to send a shiver up his spine when he'd lean in and speak low, lips brushing against his ear. But when he wore his glasses, Riku’s usual confidence was countered with the unknown, with a plain sort of vulnerability that Sora usually had to burrow under his armor to find, and that was beautiful.
“I see you,” he said finally, simple in his smile, issued a one-shoulder shrug because that was enough, and kissed Riku just as simply when the other boy’s uncertainty faded, bolstered by reassurance and that instinctual drive to tease, bait, compete that just made them Riku and Sora. He kissed him again as Riku’s lips parted to issue a taunt-who else would you see?-and released his hold on his wrist, threaded his fingers into fine hair, dragged his nails gently over the sensitive scalp in the way he knew would make Riku shiver, a crooked smirk of his own tilting his mouth as whatever words that were about to be said were forgotten. He pulled away, still leaning in close, the cotton of their shirts rustling, and licked his lips when Riku’s hand settled on the dip of his lower back, fingers poised just above the waistband of his cut-offs. He could see anticipation behind Riku’s glasses, reflecting his own as they both thought of the rest of the night to spend together and no parents.
Sora arched his back just enough that Riku’s fingers slipped against skin, slid under rough denim and pushed against the fabric of his boxers. He pulled on the hair in his hand, the pressure gentle but still enough to draw out the groan he wanted to hear, smiled as Riku’s eyes fluttered shut and his hand inched underneath Sora’s underwear, fingers rubbing and pressing in little circles until he was biting his lip, drawing it between his grinning teeth and sliding it back and forth between them in a rough line until it tickled and he released, laughing at the sensation. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, finding it warm and still tingling, swelling, and chuckled when Riku’s eyes opened to watch him, silently call him a dork.
He shrugged, cocked his head and maintained their close proximity to see irises darken again as he twisted in Riku’s arms, buried his left leg into the corner of the couch so he was in Riku’s lap, straddling his hips. Riku’s breaths were shallow but still steady, his arms still firm around Sora’s waist, but his eyes were wide and hungry, eager, lips light where they were pressed together and jaw squared and firm while he swallowed. Sora lifted the arm resting against Riku’s neck, propped his elbow on the other boy’s shoulder to trace the pad of his thumb along his temple, just grazing along the metal of his glasses.
Riku’s eyes dilated, breath hitching in his throat, and Sora released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, still alternately twirling and stroking smooth, cool platinum hair as his boyfriend forgot to be calm and collected, large, adept hands traveling further under clothing. Sora followed suit, dropping the hand in Riku’s hair to the collar of his shirt, hooking washed-out material with his index finger and tugging, massaging the thin, satiny skin over his collarbone, then releasing his hold and going further down to burrow under the hem and splay against his abdomen, feeling Riku warm and hard and clean under his palm. Sora’s own stomach fluttered, hints of delicious tension beginning to coil somewhere in his gut, and he smiled bright and wide, body suddenly filled to the brim with restless energy that needed to be spent, shared, savored; he wanted to watch Riku ride through the waves of it, too.
The hand underneath Riku’s shirt explored, flitted and rubbed and pinched, anything that would feel different on Sora’s fingertips as he covered as much of Riku as he could. His other hand snaked around to the nape of Riku’s neck, thumb circling the base of his spine as fingers played with baby-fine hairs, his eyes widening as Riku’s narrowed, their lips parting in tandem and kissing slow, wet, deep, bringing another burst of laughter out of Sora when Riku’s tongue tickled the roof of his mouth. Sora could feel Riku swell between his legs, rising with him and rocking steady to their rhythm like waves in the ocean, tempo picking up as Riku’s eyes stormed under lids that were at half-mast, as Sora’s roved over anything they could drink in.
Sora lifted himself off of his place on Riku’s lap, bracing his weight with his knees on the couch so he was just looking down on him, pressing quick, shallow kisses against whatever part of his face happened to be closest as his hand made its journey under Riku’s shirt from his sternum to rest on the waistband of his boxers. He kept their faces close, breaths mingling and warming already darkened cheeks, and Riku’s hair was mussed, his lips reddened and beginning to mouth Sora’s name, tongue darting out to lap at bruised flesh. Sora trained his eyes on Riku’s, watched that green tempest roil; he wanted to sink in it, wanted to lose himself and see Riku go down with him.
His smile was everything he wanted Riku to see as his palm cupped him through his boxers, pressed close to feel the heat, the girth, the pulse, his wrist pressing against his own erection in their close proximity. “Sora,” Riku finally gasped, brewing storm temporarily passive as one hand stopped digging into Sora’s hip to hold his wrist. “We’re on my dad’s couch,” he said, voice soft and distracted, still hot and trying to remain still, in control. “We can’t mess it up.”
“Riku,” he murmured, tasting the name on his tongue and still finding it just as delicious as he ever had, feeling Riku shudder underneath him, against him, eyes almost closing. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet with the condom he always kept with him for emergencies, flashing Riku a grin bursting with mischievous intent and a wild energy that felt electric under his skin; they could have gone up to Riku’s bedroom, but Sora wanted to see his boyfriend come undone, join him in his recklessness like he’d always convinced him to before. He presented the condom in his hand with a flourish. “Don’t worry about it.”
Riku’s eyes narrowed at the lilt in his voice, his natural instinct to spar rising to the smug challenge in Sora’s sparkling eyes. He brought his hand back to Sora’s hip, gripped him tight and brought him down on his lap, bucked once and held Sora still so they rubbed together sharply, sending a sharp burst of heat up Sora’s spine. He moaned, bit his lip and watched Riku’s features twist and glint around a smirk, then responded with one of his own as his other hand tangled deeper into Riku’s hair and pulled, just enough to observe dazed eyes and a tongue catch between teeth before a sigh, “Sora…”
Sora pounced on his opportunity, shifted in Riku’s slackening grip and reached into his boxers, a grin of triumph lighting up all corners of his face when Riku’s breath hitched at the direct contact as Sora stroked the head of his erection with his thumb, dragged his nail lightly along the vein. One more choked gasp and Riku’s hips lifted off the couch, bucked into his and left Sora biting his tongue for focus as he took the silent invitation and yanked down Riku’s underwear until he was exposed. He ripped open foil with his teeth, pulled out the condom and locked eyes with his boyfriend as he rolled it on, taking his time, greedily drinking up every flash of impatience and are you kidding me? while Riku remained sprawled out on the couch, legs and arms spread wide and bracing as he tried to relax, to win somehow.
Sora’s smile was predatory, gleaming and victorious as he lowered himself down onto the floor, sliding against thin boxers and smooth leather and the sweet friction of Riku’s legs against his hands. He settled on his knees on the carpet, palms pressed flat on his boyfriend’s thighs, fingers twitching at the feel of toned, lean muscle beneath them; powerful and still and waiting for him. His eyes traveled slowly to meet enraptured sea green, watching his body tense with that reserved power, kept meeting his gaze as he dipped his head between those thighs, opened his mouth and took in the heat and musk that was Riku, best friend and rival and lover for as much of his life as he could remember.
His progress was slow, restrained, licking and sucking, grazing and humming, hands massaging and cupping, rolling and squeezing, exploring Riku and what made him sigh, jerk, groan, buck, clutch the sofa, dig his heels into the floor, bury his fingers into Sora’s wild hair and clutch until the sting of tears blurred the intensity of his gaze. Riku was just barely meeting his eyes, lids lowered and nearly closed completely, mouth quietly panting his name in short, shaky bursts of air, his limbs beginning to draw in close to his body as his core tensed and coiled, ready and begging for him to let go. Sora moaned deep in his throat at the sight, nearly choked when Riku reacted to the vibration, mouth stretching in as much of a grin as he could manage-Riku was gorgeous like this, thought forsaken for emotion, words nonsensical and movements sporadic, and only Sora ever got to witness it, something just for him.
Sora’s hand dropped to the fly of his cut-offs, almost of its own accord, flicking open the button and tugging down the zipper with a hurried snick, easing some of the pained pressure on his own erection as his fingers plunged under his boxers and wrapped around it, held it at the base, squeezed and made himself groan, refusing to let himself be swept away until Riku was pulled under first. His eyes were still locked on Riku’s and he saw them widen, the green seeming to melt and darken behind glasses he’d long forgotten to be self-conscious about, maelstrom swirling fathomless around dilated pupils, and one strangled, “Sora, I’m…” He inhaled sharply as Sora took him deep into his throat, let him slip out, sucked hard on the tip and stroked him with his free hand. Then Riku’s eyes closed tight and his head tossed back against the couch, body arching and jerking as Sora guided him through the chaos.
Riku swore, loud and uncaring, and Sora felt his own control shatter, hand stroking himself under his clothes just as desperately, the power in his gut bursting and pulling free until he couldn’t see, eyes closing and body curling around the molten heat flowing from his core, almost unbearable as the image of Riku giving in to him still burned behind his eyelids. His head tilted to the side, mouth slack as Riku slipped free, and he issued a swear of his own before collapsing against the spent boy on the couch, both panting and murmuring “love you” and nonsense until Riku brought his arms around him, brought him up from the floor and laid back against the couch so they were curled around each other and touching, soothing as breaths evened out and skin cooled.
Sora buried both hands into Riku’s sweat-damp hair, brought him in close and kissed him, lazy and slow, shivered as Riku’s long fingers carded through his own matted hair. They broke away just as slow, no rush to do anything else, and Sora brought one of his hands down to trace pale eyebrows with his index finger, run over the frame of his glasses, trail down the bridge of his nose and settle on his mouth, laugh when Riku kissed his finger, took it into his mouth to nip at it lightly with his teeth, smirk returning to his features with familiar ease. They just laid there, eyes on each other and smiling until inaction became uncomfortable, condom and clothing demanding attention, and they both rose from the sofa with a collective sigh that still held a conspiratorial grin: plenty of time to continue upstairs before the house would be occupied again.
They traveled upstairs together, pausing frequently to kiss, nuzzle, tease, their usual banter accompanying them all the way to the bedroom. Riku removed his glasses and set them in their protective case so the wire wouldn't bend out of shape in bed. Clothes were shed, Riku making quick work of his boxers and shirt, and his hand rested on Sora’s elbow when he sat on the bed, bent over to remove his socks. Sora looked up, eyebrows furrowed in an unspoken query.
Riku’s cheeks flushed light pink, but he shrugged and licked his lips, a glint in his eyes. “Leave them on,” he requested, thumb and index finger smoothing circles over Sora’s arm just as Sora had done to him earlier. “I liked the way they felt last time. You know, after school?” His grin was drawn out and content in a way that reminded Sora of a cat.
It was Sora’s turn to blush, eyes darting down to look at the socks he’d thrown on before hurrying over to Riku’s; tube socks he usually reserved for gym class. Riku liked these? Sora’s eyebrows raised, looking back up at Riku searchingly; there was no malice in his expression, even if that ever-present dare was calling out to him, tipping over to Riku’s side for this game. Besides, Riku had just worn a pair of glasses for him, so what was a pair of tube socks? Still, never to be one to shrug off a challenge, Sora leaned back on the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them to put the socks on display, baring his teeth in a grin, you’re on.