They were sprawled on the bed, kissing in the glow of a television screen.
It wasn't a terribly romantic setting, a spur of the moment kind of thing, really. Riku had Sora to blame for that, distracting him with a scheming grin and warm mouth pressing against his right before he was clearly was about to lose in Keyblade Master III. Not that he was complaining, though—
Riku suppressed a shiver and slid his arms even more tightly around Sora's shoulders, head tilted, kiss deepening, drawing an appreciative hum from his throat as he felt Sora's hands wander down the small of his back, rubbing appreciatively to feel the slide of muscle there. Sora's tongue against his, and oh god, how their closeness gave his forehead a funny tingle, how the rest of him tingled with Sora's warmth leeching through his clothes, pooling with his own in the inch of space still between them.
He wanted to close the space and feel Sora flush against him, feel the way his body would rise and fall against his own as he breathed, but Sora beat him to it. Shifting closer, lining them up so they were chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach—
Their groins pressed together, and they both let out embarrassingly loud moans.
And Riku stopped. Stared at Sora with wide eyes, cheeks flushed, almost disbelieving because did he really just make that sound? He stared, and Sora stared back.
And then they laughed. They laughed and rolled back to lie side by side on the single bed, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath.
"Oh man," Sora gasped, "did you just moan?"
Riku made a strangled noise and brought up a hand to cover his face, cheeks even more flushed now. "So did you," he mumbled from underneath his fingers.
They stayed like that for a while, arms brushing, as they stared at the glow stars stuck to the ceiling.
"I have no idea what I'm doing," Riku admitted, after some of the heat on his face went away. "And my dick is still hard."
"Well," Sora said, grinning brightly, "I have some idea." And he stuck his hand down the front of Riku's pants.