Fic--contains no BBS spoilers but playing BBS helpful to understanding. NSFW
Unspoken Words
It's raining, and Kairi is urgently needed at home for some reason probably involving the upcoming mayoral election, or at least that's what Riku says in his cynical way. They've only been back home for a few days, two weeks at the most, and it's raining. They can't go out to the little island in this weather; it would just be miserable. So, as they have many times before, by unspoken accord they go down into Riku's parents' basement. His parents had let him finish part of it off as a huge sparring ring, and Sora is as familiar with the feel of the mats underfoot as he is the sand.
Instead of childish swords of rough planking nailed together, Riku has finely-polished wooden practice swords here. They don't want to use keyblades just to spar a bit on a boring, rainy day. Neither one is sure that would ever be a good idea. They take up the practice swords and circle each other warily on the mats, relearning each others' moves and noting the changes each has made.
The first blows are tentative. Neither of them has sparred in so long it almost seems like another lifetime, after all the time they've spent in other worlds, fighting real fights with real weapons. This is different--familiar, but not the same, not anymore. It doesn't take long, though, before the crack of wood against wood becomes louder and faster and more regular.
Riku's style is still overhand, blade held high and sweeping low impossibly fast to block or punch forward like a fencer's thrust. Sora counters with his usual two-handed grip, letting him use the power of both arms to keep up, though now there are time when he lets go with one hand or the other, fingers twitching as if searching for a second blade that never appears. Riku sees this as a weakness to exploit, darting in and twisting the practice blade out of Sora's one-handed grip during a moment of distraction.
The blade spins past Sora's face, just brushing his cheek; if it had been sharp, it would have drawn blood. Sora stumbles back, brows twisting down in a darkling glare. Riku can see the moment when he might have called his keyblade, then decides fists will do and plows forward again.
Riku's blade is discarded in an instant, and Riku retaliates in kind. This isn't sparring anymore. This is a real fight, and possibly the most serious fight either of them has had. The unspoken words between them pour out silently.
You destroyed our home! Sora's fists scream.
You betrayed my trust! Riku's blows respond.
You threw yourself into darkness and left me behind!
You rejected me for a pair of strangers!
You hurt our friends--and Kairi!
You took what was supposed to be mine!
You ran off with an evil witch and wouldn't listen to me!
You broke your promise!
They're sprawled obscenely on the mats by now. Sora is on top, with Riku's wrists pinned to the floor, and they're both breathing hard. Neither one is sure who makes the first move, but suddenly the rage turns to passion, and their lips are working against one another's, tongues battling in each others' mouths. Their hands seek bare skin, and make it bare when they can't find enough, and now they have different messages in them.
I didn't mean to leave you alone, Sora's fingers whisper as they stroke across firm muscle and smooth skin.
I didn't know anything bad would happen, Riku's hands murmur as they cup Sora's ass and pull his hips down against Riku's own.
I looked for you everywhere I went, Sora's lips promise as they brush against Riku's erection.
I wouldn't let the Organization have you or keep you, no matter what it took, Riku's fingers offer as they slide, trembling, through Sora's hair.
Sora pulls a little bottle that probably once held a potion or an ether out of one of his many pockets--even with his clothes discarded on the floor, he knows where all his loot is. The bottle has some kind of oil in it now, and Riku catches a faint whiff of fruit when Sora pulls the cork out. The unspoken conversation changes again as Sora slides into Riku, and their entire bodies are involved now as Riku moves with him.
I won't ever leave you again, Sora promises silently, twining his fingers with Riku's tenderly.
Everything I do will be for you from now on, Riku vows mutely, his passion-filled sea-foam eyes locked on Sora's face.
Then there are no more words, even unspoken words, as timeless pleasure floods them both, and they go limp, bodies cooling. Later, though, when they're all cleaned up, Riku teases Sora about the oil. Sora, blushing, defends that it was intended for a salad, which Riku doesn't believe for an instant. But both can hear the words neither one is quite ready to say yet.
I love you. I forgive you.
Cross-posted to http://yashahime.dreamwidth.org/3118.html
It's raining, and Kairi is urgently needed at home for some reason probably involving the upcoming mayoral election, or at least that's what Riku says in his cynical way. They've only been back home for a few days, two weeks at the most, and it's raining. They can't go out to the little island in this weather; it would just be miserable. So, as they have many times before, by unspoken accord they go down into Riku's parents' basement. His parents had let him finish part of it off as a huge sparring ring, and Sora is as familiar with the feel of the mats underfoot as he is the sand.
Instead of childish swords of rough planking nailed together, Riku has finely-polished wooden practice swords here. They don't want to use keyblades just to spar a bit on a boring, rainy day. Neither one is sure that would ever be a good idea. They take up the practice swords and circle each other warily on the mats, relearning each others' moves and noting the changes each has made.
The first blows are tentative. Neither of them has sparred in so long it almost seems like another lifetime, after all the time they've spent in other worlds, fighting real fights with real weapons. This is different--familiar, but not the same, not anymore. It doesn't take long, though, before the crack of wood against wood becomes louder and faster and more regular.
Riku's style is still overhand, blade held high and sweeping low impossibly fast to block or punch forward like a fencer's thrust. Sora counters with his usual two-handed grip, letting him use the power of both arms to keep up, though now there are time when he lets go with one hand or the other, fingers twitching as if searching for a second blade that never appears. Riku sees this as a weakness to exploit, darting in and twisting the practice blade out of Sora's one-handed grip during a moment of distraction.
The blade spins past Sora's face, just brushing his cheek; if it had been sharp, it would have drawn blood. Sora stumbles back, brows twisting down in a darkling glare. Riku can see the moment when he might have called his keyblade, then decides fists will do and plows forward again.
Riku's blade is discarded in an instant, and Riku retaliates in kind. This isn't sparring anymore. This is a real fight, and possibly the most serious fight either of them has had. The unspoken words between them pour out silently.
You destroyed our home! Sora's fists scream.
You betrayed my trust! Riku's blows respond.
You threw yourself into darkness and left me behind!
You rejected me for a pair of strangers!
You hurt our friends--and Kairi!
You took what was supposed to be mine!
You ran off with an evil witch and wouldn't listen to me!
You broke your promise!
They're sprawled obscenely on the mats by now. Sora is on top, with Riku's wrists pinned to the floor, and they're both breathing hard. Neither one is sure who makes the first move, but suddenly the rage turns to passion, and their lips are working against one another's, tongues battling in each others' mouths. Their hands seek bare skin, and make it bare when they can't find enough, and now they have different messages in them.
I didn't mean to leave you alone, Sora's fingers whisper as they stroke across firm muscle and smooth skin.
I didn't know anything bad would happen, Riku's hands murmur as they cup Sora's ass and pull his hips down against Riku's own.
I looked for you everywhere I went, Sora's lips promise as they brush against Riku's erection.
I wouldn't let the Organization have you or keep you, no matter what it took, Riku's fingers offer as they slide, trembling, through Sora's hair.
Sora pulls a little bottle that probably once held a potion or an ether out of one of his many pockets--even with his clothes discarded on the floor, he knows where all his loot is. The bottle has some kind of oil in it now, and Riku catches a faint whiff of fruit when Sora pulls the cork out. The unspoken conversation changes again as Sora slides into Riku, and their entire bodies are involved now as Riku moves with him.
I won't ever leave you again, Sora promises silently, twining his fingers with Riku's tenderly.
Everything I do will be for you from now on, Riku vows mutely, his passion-filled sea-foam eyes locked on Sora's face.
Then there are no more words, even unspoken words, as timeless pleasure floods them both, and they go limp, bodies cooling. Later, though, when they're all cleaned up, Riku teases Sora about the oil. Sora, blushing, defends that it was intended for a salad, which Riku doesn't believe for an instant. But both can hear the words neither one is quite ready to say yet.
I love you. I forgive you.
Cross-posted to http://yashahime.dreamwidth.org/3118.html