Fever Chill
Midnight. The park. Roxas thinks he's gone crazy. And all he remembers is the sound of rain falling from the sky. RikuRoku. Dark, smut.
Pain, without love. Pain, I can't get enough. Pain, I like rough,
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all.
— Pain ; Three Days Grace
Run. Just run.
Roxas' mind is blank as he tears through the park blindly.
An instinct tells him to look up, straight up, into the blackness above, to see everything fall just before it hits the ground, hits his face. And then the rush comes, and he can feel the tingle course through his spine, up and up, then down, down, down. The first prickling droplets crash all around him in a relentless spring storm. Cold, stinging, liquid needles that eat into his skin and melt away, dribble down, wet against his face, eyelids, mouth, shoulders, arms. And he shivers violently and keeps going, the cataclysmic sounds of the downpour echoing like blanketed glass shattering on stone and plastic beads cracking to pieces everywhere.
There are no lights above in the depths of the endless abyss. It is dark. A midnight sea, an undulating, semi-tangible ocean of black, streaming sparks that glint and glow if he tilts his head at the right angle to search, explore the sky for any small pinpricks of incandescence or trace apparitions of a white-blue glow. And there is none. There is no light from above. Only the lone lampposts and tall, dark trees that are silhouetted in the distance. His vision softens shadows and blurs objects. He sees things; bushes, park benches that litter the small field of deep black-green grass around him, scattered signboards and fire hydrants—or maybe they are other objects entirely.
He turns back once, a fleeting look, just to make sure. Just to make sure. And sure enough, he sees something shadowy racing along the cobblestone pavement from faraway through the storm.
He's being followed. As he knew he would be.
"Shit," he snarls loudly through the rain and starts running again, this time with renewed vigour. Hot salty tears slide down his face, mingling with cold rainwater. "Fucking moron," he breathes, heartbeat doubling.
"Roxas!" he hears the faint yell from behind him and Roxas picks up the pace. He knows that if he doesn't, he won't be able to outrun his pursuer. He very badly wants to scream back, tell him to fuck off. But he's smarter than that, knows it wouldn't do any good.
He's tired. The tears don't stop. He wants to collapse to his knees. He wants to stop running. But he knows that if he does, everything will stop and start moving backwards. And backwards is not a place he wants to go.
Eventually, he gets lost. Everything is a hazy smudge in front of his eyes, a confusing hazy smudge. He doesn't know where he is. The park swallows him in darkness. His legs falter and he slows down to catch his breath and get his bearings. The place looks the same in every single direction. Fuck.
And then he hears running footsteps behind him, a few feet away.
He clenches his fists by his side and stops in his tracks. He'll throw punches if he has to, he thinks wildly.
The person chasing him slows his pace when he sees that Roxas has given up trying to get away.
Roxas doesn't turn around when he says, unemotionally, "Why the hell are you following me?"
"Do you know what you did?" The reply is a soft hiss from somewhere within the darkness behind him that sounds very much like the rain around them. The leaves of the tree above them don't help much in sheltering them from the relentless torrent. "Do you?" the darkness hisses again.
Roxas smirks, like he's gone crazy. "All the more reason why you shouldn't have followed me." Crazy, crazy.
Riku yells. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID?"
And it's like a switch flicks. Roxas turns slowly on the spot. "Yes," he replies once he's face-to-face with Riku, voice hard and low and full off dark steel. "Yes, yes, I do, I do."
"TELL ME WHY."
"She deserved it."
"Why?! Why would she deserve it?!"
"Is jealousy not a valid reason? Two-timing slut," Roxas spits, fingernails biting into palms.
"Who's the two-timing slut?" Riku growls back, eyes narrowing into slits.
At that, Roxas' lips split into a vindictive grin. His soaking hair, plastered over his forehead, falls into his flashing eyes, hiding a hint of feral insanity. "Me," he whispers, so quiet that he wonders if Riku catches it. But he knows he doesn't need to care, because Riku is yelling again.
"And then you threw her over the fucking third storey balcony, you sick fuck. What, just because you caught her fucking me? You're more of a goddamn hypocrite than I initially thought."
"She didn't die," Roxas replies simply with a shrug, grin widening.
"You wanted her to die."
"But she didn't. Isn't that good enough for you?"
"This isn't about her, and you know it."
"You're right. It's about you. And me."
Riku moves forward like lightning and slaps him hard across the face. "There was never a you and me, you little piece of shit. It was always us. Us, us, us. How the fuck do you think I felt when I found you screwing Kairi behind my back? Do you know how much it fucking hurt? I was going crazy, you know? FUCKING CRAZY. I tried to get back at you by doing the same thing, you bitch. If this is anyone's fault, it's yours. You lost the plot. Made the us into a fucking you and me."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Roxas cackles crazily, eyes darting towards Riku's silver hair, a dusky grey under the shadows of the tree. It's so wet and far from its usual attractiveness. This sobers him up immediately. "Do you hate me?" he murmurs coolly, eyes flat, expression a mess of hope that's shuttered by so much hate.
Riku screams in defeat, grabs Roxas by the collar and bunches the sopping wet cotton under his fingers. "I want to fucking kill you."
And he pushes Roxas back, slams the blond against the tree.
"Do it," Roxas says softly, eyes hooded under a blanket of dripping hair. "Do it. Just do it. I don't care." And really, he doesn't, because it's right now that he thinks that fuck, Riku is fucking gorgeous and fucking ugly at the same time. And he doesn't care if Riku strangles him to death. "Just do it, Riku. Make it count. Make it hurt."
Riku falters a little. Then, suddenly, his fingers are tight around Roxas' chin, flipping his head to one side as he leans in to whisper breathily against the honey-gold hair behind Roxas' ear, "I'm not a sick bastard like you."
Roxas' eyes dim at this and Riku pulls back a little to slam his lips against Roxas'. It's painful and intense as Riku bites viciously at his tongue. Bruising, blistering, wet. To Roxas, it's fucking sweet and delicious. Fucking beautiful. Riku's teeth gnaw at his bottom lip and Roxas' knees wobble a little when he tastes his own blood, so he pushes himself harder against the rough bark of the tree behind him, makes sure he stays standing. He mumbles a swear word into Riku's mouth when he feels Riku's icy fingers reach under the hem of his drenched shirt and begin to feel their way up. And up. And he pulls his mouth away for a moment to tug the shirt over Roxas' head swiftly. And then his fingers are everywhere. His neck, along his biceps, his chest, they stop to play at his nipples for a moment.
And then they go lower. His navel, his stomach, against the front of his jeans where the curve of Roxas' cock juts out audaciously. It takes a moment for Riku to undo the catch and work the zipper. Roxas bites feverishly at Riku's hot tongue that's now sliding along the inside of his upper lip. And Riku slowly pulls the hardening length of Roxas' cock out of his jeans, fingers wrapping around it tightly. And Roxas starts to moan hotly against Riku's mouth, arching his back off the tree's trunk when Riku begins stroking him roughly, languorously, smearing pre-cum and rainwater along his solid thickness. His eyelids flicker wildly and his mouth slackens a little as the strokes turn into jerks and tugs. And Riku's searing lips trail down from his chin, to his collarbone, to a smooth, supple nipple.
"Not gonna kill you," Riku says, sucking hard, and Roxas starts panting raggedly. "But I will make this hurt. Badly."
Roxas swallows, feeling coagulating saliva trickle down his throat. "Fuck me," he gargles desperately, trying not to buck into Riku's hand, trying not to lose himself completely. "Fuck me hard. Fuck me till I'm screaming your name. Make me bleed."
"Fucking masochist," Riku breathes darkly, biting down maliciously on Roxas' taut nipple. It bleeds.
"Do it," Roxas hisses.
"Shut up, fucker."
Riku removes his hand from Roxas' cock, leaving it stiff and dripping and twitching in the frigid air. Roxas grunts impatiently at the sudden loss of friction. Riku snakes a hand around Roxas' neck, drags his head down, flicks his tongue across the blond's flushed cheek once. And then, he's on his knees, and Roxas inhales sharply as Riku grips his hips and takes his length into his mouth.
"F-fuck." Roxas throws his head back and it hits the tree. He doesn't register the pain, because Riku is now deep-throating him with ease, grazing teeth against the base of his cock. Roxas shudders uncontrollably, feeling all of him inside Riku's slick mouth, right down to his balls. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck," the word spills from his lips over and over and spittle dribbles from his lips. He grabs hold of Riku's head, bunches silver hair between curling fingers, his body trembling against the uneven bark of the tree so it rips at his naked skin and tears it bloody. But he doesn't care.
Riku pulls back a little, sucks hungrily, then swirls his tongue against the engorged head of Roxas' length for a moment and relishes the enthusiastic, excruciating moans from above. Then, he bites down pitilessly.
A drowning scream bursts from Roxas' throat and he convulses against the tree and arches his back, coming hard in thick, sporadic bursts.
Riku doesn't waste any time. He swallows everything down quickly, leaving some of the pearlescent stickiness to ooze out from between his lips and drip down his chin. Then, he stands abruptly, undoes his own pants and pulls his own throbbing cock out, strokes it once, twice, smearing it slick with his leaking wetness. Then, he reaches out to seize the slumping blond in front of him by the hips and turns him around aggressively. He sees the cuts all down Roxas' back, russet splinters and bits of wood embedded deep, pouring blood that mingles with glistening rainwater. He growls and yanks Roxas' jeans all the way down so it pools around his ankles.
And there is no warning as Riku lines himself up and slams his cock into Roxas.
A shrill cry, stifled against the back of his wrist that he bites down on, and Roxas' knees almost give. But Riku grips his bony hips tight, steadies him, meticulously kisses and licks at the bloody incisions and cuts and black-purple bruises blossoming on his hunching back.
Roxas gasps painfully, eventually croaks out in a hoarse, obscene whisper. "More."
Riku sinks his teeth sharply into a deep cut on Roxas' back, sucking and tasting coppery blood.
"More. Faster." Roxas' voice is strained. "Fuck me, goddammit."
And Riku finally obeys, pounding into him over and over, a ruthless, erratic rhythm. The meaty, sinful thumping of wet skin on wet skin fills the air. He fights the constricting tightness of Roxas' insides. Hot, silken walls clench around him, blowing his mind apart. And Roxas is screaming into the night, mangled words stringing together, making no sense at all.
"You're – a better fuck – than she is," Riku grunts brokenly against Roxas' shoulder blades, blindly thrusting and shoving and fucking Roxas' tight hole.
Roxas keens sharply, his own front teeth splitting his lip open. And Riku suddenly stiffens for a split second, then spasms as he empties himself inside of Roxas, vision going white, black, white.
"Ffffuck," he hisses lowly, and he leans heavily against Roxas, pushing him up against the tree.
They stay like that for a long moment as Riku catches his breath. Then, he pulls out of Roxas slowly. The blond folds in on himself and his naked body collapses to the filthy, mud-spattered ground as soon as Riku releases him and steps away. Around them, the rain sounds oddly quiet and hushed.
Riku zips himself up just as Roxas, body twisted grotesquely in the sludge and dirt, starts coughing in a violent fit.
For a moment, Riku contemplates leaving him on the ground. Leaving him for dead. He'll catch pneumonia and die, hopefully.
Roxas seems to read his mind, because his eyes shutter close and he opens his bleeding mouth weakly to whisper, "You're… gonna leave me here… to drown." And it's not even an uncertainty, not even a question. There is no doubt.
Riku looks down at the blond's pale, quivering figure for a long while. He momentarily envisions himself kicking Roxas hard in the ribs. But he doesn't.
"No…" The reply is quiet and self-loathing.
In silence, he reaches down and picks the blond's limp body up off the ground with careful hands.
"… Because you're so full of shit and fuck, I don't. I don't hate you. I don't fucking hate you, Roxas."
Author's note: Darn. Been awhile since I've written anything vaguely PWP. But I'm happy with this one. Well. RikuRoku calls for violent!sex. Because I can't see them being a lovey-dovey, gooey-eyed pair. True facts.
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