Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Kingdom Hearts. Or Sora's point of view…it's just being borrowed for a while…
In my shameless way, I urge anyone who is reading this and hasn't read my other story, The Forest Creatures, to do so. I'm looking for opinions on whether or not it's publishable, and for an alternate title. Really, that's just the working title…but I haven't been able to come up with anything better.
To more important matters. I haven't had a laptop since…um, summer. So I'm very, very sorry for the delay!
Review me, everyone! It makes me happy, and a happy author is an author more likely to skip right to the M rated goodness.
Considering that a pair of teenage boys shared a cramped living space – boys who get twenty percent off pizza and thus have yet-to-be-recycled boxes stacked and strewn everywhere – I always thought we were fairly neat. Things were relatively decent…in that I could find the TV remote like a homing pigeon no matter what.
My views on that changed when I got home. Comparatively, the place had been a disaster, before. Now it was…
Well, picture a lawn that has suddenly had every individual blade of grass carefully manicured, each blade of grass cut to the exact same length as all the other ones, and utterly devoid of any weeds. Rather than holes being where those weeds were, though, there was just more perfect-length grass.
I gaped, dropping my bag onto the carpeted floor – had it always been such a light shade of tan? – and assessed the stranger's apartment. Clearly, I'd walked into the wrong one.
The walls had to have been washed, robin-egg blue paint seeming to shine, sunlight streaming through the open windows. Windows that were pretty much invisible, no streaks or marks indicating that yes, the glass was still there. Tan curtains – we had curtains? – waved from the slight breeze outside, refreshing the room. Odd, I was used to the smell of stale pizza boxes.
Said boxes weren't by the soft beige couch (had it been vacuumed? There were no crumbs…), nor by the TV. As far as I could tell, they weren't anywhere anymore.
Which meant there was no way I was in the right apartment. Strange, that my key worked on the door.
But then Riku came out of the kitchen. And I gaped even more.
Obviously, the picturesque tidy atmosphere had been his doing – Roxas and I had been at school. If Roxas skipped, he sure wouldn't clean…and I could rule out the theory that we'd had a break-in, because only the boxes were missing. Generally, as well, thieves didn't considerately vacuum, dust, and wash windows.
So how could a guy that had been cleaning all day look like that?
Opalescent silver was held back into a low ponytail, a few loose strands falling wispily around his face. A very handsome face, not that cleaning would alter that. His arms were exposed – how was he so muscular, did he work out? – by a rather fitted white t-shirt, baggy black jeans hugging just the right places.
And…the collar.
Fixed around his neck was a buckled leather collar, a silver ring hanging from the buckle and being distractingly shiny against Riku's smooth throat.
Distracting.
"Master," he greeted, seeming to automatically bow his head. Even then, he was still taller than me. It would have vaguely annoyed me, if it weren't for the fact that he was looking so…submissive.
Which made me freak out. I'm not good at dealing with people devoting themselves to me.
Besides, his nature was making my ever-so-helpful brain drag up images from that little faze-out I'd had during class.
"Eh – no! No, don't say that!" I was practically sputtering. Truly, I had to be taking him aback with my articulate and refined speech. "S-Sora."
Riku gave me an indulgent smile. "Master Sora, welcome home."
I was fairly certain my cheeks were blazing. Thank god Roxas wasn't home yet…he'd be a while. Generally, he had various sports on Fridays…so I had a bit of time before I would have to explain. Sure, there had been earlier this morning…but that conversation had gone like this:
"Hey Roxas, uh…I know there's a guy in our living room."
"I noticed that, Sora." Insert copious sarcasm encased in an indifferent drawl. "And he would be here because…?"
"He…got in a fight with his roommate, and just needs to spend some time here…"
"I want him out."
"Roxas, you have no heart!"
"We knew that, Sora. He's out by this afternoon, or I'll make you regret it."
End of conversation.
Hence my incoming panic over delivering a speech explaining the continued presence of a sexy collared man doing our cleaning.
And…our cooking. I swore I smelled something, and it was making my mouth water…
Neither Roxas nor I could really cook anything. Well, to be fair, I made what was possibly the best toast in our entire apartment building – a lot more than I can say for Roxas, who burns everything. Precisely the reason he remains a delivery boy instead of a cook at the pizza place. He has this weird idea that everything needs to be cooked at least fifteen degrees higher than the instructions dictate. He can't even cook things properly with the microwave – he sets it to as high as it can possibly go and nearly doubles the time it takes to cook. Our kitchen smelled like burned popcorn for two weeks, once, and I was put off the stuff for a month – it looked like it had blackened and curdled. Like year-old milk.
I couldn't drink milk for a while afterwards, too.
But I digress. Again. I seriously need to stop doing that.
Where was I? Making the point about how absolutely sumptuous the sweetened smell was, coming from our kitchen? I think I was thinking along those lines.
"Are you baking?"
My former chagrin had been smoothed over successfully, and if I hadn't known better, I would have guessed that was his intention. Whoever told him about my cookie fixation was both very doomed, and the very lucky owner of my soul. It had been years since I'd had homemade cookies…
Riku's smile grew a bit in apparent amusement. Maybe it was how easily placated I was, or maybe it was something else. Clearly, the guy's mind was impossible to figure out, with his whole 'slave' thing…
Though, maybe this was all just some sort of joke…
"Double chocolate chip cookies," Riku nodded. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I thought you might like them, Master Sora."
"Just Sora," I corrected without even thinking, craning my neck in an attempt to see into the kitchen. "When will they be done? Can I have one?"
"They are for you, Master Sora."
This caught me off guard a bit. Somehow, that thought hadn't occurred to me – I had already been working myself up into a puppy-eyed begging spree. What did he mean, they were mine?
'Remember, Sora? Slave. Totally at your disposal to give you anything you want.'
Ah. Right.
'Like in your daydream!'
Not right!
"I – I'm really – uh, thank you," my voice was at least an octave higher, embarrassingly girlish. Were it not for the fact that certain images flashing through my mind were causing the according bodily reactions, I would have been questioning my masculinity.
At least Riku was watching my face, and not anywhere lower.
I seriously needed to get my hormones under control…because obviously, it was just hormones. I was in no way actually, physically attracted to Riku…with his gorgeous hair and piercing aqua eyes and smooth handsome features.
Nothing appealing about any of that at all.
Luckily, the stomach always seemed to take precedence over every other part of my body. "Um…when are they ready?"
"About ten minutes, they only just went in the oven, Master Sora," Riku dutifully answered without missing a beat.
I'd noticed something. He ended absolutely everything he said with 'Master Sora'. While I was still very opposed to this whole slave thing, and very new to the idea of owning a person, I had to wonder if that was normal.
Then the rational part of my brain remembered that nothing about this was normal, anyway.
"Um…okay," I shifted a bit, picking my bag up off the ground – I didn't actually remember dropping it, but I figured that had likely occurred during my spell of utter shock and worrying that I was in the wrong apartment. "I'll just…get started on my homework, okay? Can you let me know when they're ready?"
"Of course. If you need anything at all, my wish is your command, Master Sora."
Reflexively, my cheeks burned crimson, and I hastened to take a seat on the very-clean couch. It even felt cleaner…
Weird.
Unzipping the bag with deliberate slowness, I withdrew the only article. World Issues homework.
Strangely, I'd been assigned a double load of work to take home and have, finished and preferably correct, by tomorrow. I couldn't imagine why that was. Part of me wondered if he was honestly expecting it back with answers, and not dripping with drying white stains.
Wow, that was a vulgar thought. Really, though, I must have seemed like such a pervert…and while I wouldn't blame him for thinking that, especially if he could have heard that last though of mine (sardonic or not, it was still pretty perverse) I wasn't totally comfortable with the idea. I mean, this was my teacher.
I hadn't even started thinking about what my classmates must have thought. That would bring on a whole new wave of embarrassment. News always spread like wildfire around our school…and not to sound at all full of myself, but I was pretty well known around the school. All of the members of our little group were – we were both exclusive, popular, and outcasts all rolled into one.
Thus, we were apparently fascinating.
And thus…more than likely, I'd be screwed over by the rumour mill by tomorrow afternoon, at the latest. If I was lucky, Kairi wouldn't be at the head of the group projecting a slideshow presentation of my little episode.
…To interject again, and I know I do it far too often, 'little' isn't the best word for me to have used. It wasn't a 'little episode', in that I'm not -…well, that is to say…I mean, I have my male pride. I'm as much of a guy as anyone else. I'm not trying to build myself up, I'm just defending what I have, and the adjective 'little' doesn't apply. Just, the occurrence was…minimal. Lacking importance. It wasn't any kind of event or anything, that was what I meant.
All that established? Good, I can digress again.
I think I can get myself back on track, sure, but…I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking about in the first place. Once my mind wanders to a different topic, it's hard to remind myself of what I was supposed to be thinking about…
Cookies, maybe? Yes, likely cookies. Since I could smell them, and they were just so succulently tantalising in their glorious rich scent…
Oh. No, I was supposed to be thinking about my World Issues homework.
Damn Riku for distracting me.
'Wait, wait, wait – no, damn Riku's baking. Yes.'
What was with World Issues triggering thoughts of him, anyway? Honest, it was a genuinely interesting class. Covered all bases. Dash of politics sprinkled with economics, environmental icing and sociology on top.
Damn, I wanted those cookies.
But there was no legitimate reason for my incessant distraction. Especially when it was so…focused. Very, very rarely did my thoughts regularly spin back in the direction of any one thing. Even if that 'one thing' had gorgeous hair, that actually shimmered in the light; come on, who actually had hair that shimmered? The way they did commercials? Or if that 'one thing' had flawless, chiselled features. Or muscled, toned arms.
Or a collar that was somehow exceedingly distracting when matched up against his smooth throat…especially with the connotations of said collar…
"Master Sora?"
Well, ten minutes had already passed. How about that.
And my double load of World Issues had been untouched. Oops…
'Damn it, Riku.'
It was entirely his fault. If I hadn't been busy thinking of him the entire time and letting my mind wander over various parts of his anatomy, I bet I could have at least put a dent in the massive chunk of textbook questions.
But wait – who was I to be negative? So I hadn't done any homework. I now had cookies. Double chocolate chip cookies, their aroma almost tangible as I lifted myself off the couch and drifted over to the sound of Riku's smooth voice.
I understood at last Kairi's analogy – Riku? A kitchen god? Yes. Yes, he was definitely a kitchen god, looking so scrumptious.
The…scrumptious cookies. That was really what I meant. Not that he wasn't a good-looking guy and all, from an appreciative point of view, but-…
I hate my brain, I genuinely do. I'm going to stop thinking now, forever.
"Thanks," I murmured, suddenly rather shy, for reasons that I couldn't even quite place. Possibly because I'd been entertaining fantasies on his body just earlier that day, and reminiscing on said fantasies moments ago. Thankfully, Riku didn't comment on my random bout of coyness and let me occupy my mouth with what could only be described as an orgasm in cookie form.
Kitchen. God.
It took me a fraction of a second to notice at all that I'd moaned softly, muffled by the sweet chocolate. And somehow, it basically entirely escaped my notice that something changed in Riku's expression. Aquamarine eyes darkened to a slightly darker shade, his expression akin to the same one I tended to wear when someone offered me an entire cake…or when someone told Roxas they'd take over one of his shifts. Maybe a combination of the two.
The overlay to those subtle changes were…fealty, almost.
Like I said, though…I didn't notice this. Okay, register it, maybe…but not so much comprehended what it meant. I certainly wouldn't have thought anything of it, in any case, even knowing that the guy wanted to be my slave.
I nearly choked. What a stupid thing to think about when I was swallowing.
Swallowing also wasn't a good word to think much on when my mouth was full of half-chewed and delectable cookie.
The expression on Riku's face immediately changed to concern, one strong hand being placed on the small of my back. "Are you alright, Master Sora?"
Yup, still called me master after every sentence.
"F-Fine," I coughed, curling my hand into a fist in front of my mouth to keep from accidentally spewing crumbs all over Riku's pristine clothes. "J-Just swallowed too fast…"
And now the first expression was back. Again, I was a little too busy trying not to die to pay heed. Riku's hand lingered on my back, very slowly rubbing small circles in a soothing manner. Strangely, that helped a lot…
That's when the front door slammed, and a very loud voice exclaimed, "What the fuck."
Okay, relaxing moment gone. I jumped a bit, accidentally brushing up against Riku. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind – he actually very helpfully supported me by shifting his arm, hand slipping down over my hips and keeping me balanced.
"What the fuck?"
Maybe, in hindsight, the assistance looked a little compromising. Riku looked inquiring if anything, while Roxas had gone from looking utterly bewildered to outraged. He tended to be rather protective, particularly when he thought my honour was being compromised.
Which was, of course, the furthest thing from the truth. Riku was just my slave. That relationship just screamed 'platonic'.
'Oh, god, I'm doomed.'
How was I supposed to explain all this to Roxas?
'Um, okay, don't panic – first, get away from Riku!'
I could do that. That part was easy.
Abruptly, both arms slid between our bodies, one hand unthinkingly splaying across Riku's chest – my god he was toned – and shoving. The break in proximity involuntarily sent me tumbling to the floor. The rather ungraceful topple sent a stinging sensation up from my tailbone. Bad place to land.
"Uh…h-hi," I stuttered, a staggered exhalation pushing past my lips before I managed to fix a sheepish smile on my face.
Roxas's ultramarine eyes burned.
"Sora. What the hell is going on?"