Of Christian and Roxanne
By: Miroir du Symphonie
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Rating: PG-13/R
Warnings: Citrus
A/N: I am SO. SORRY. For the immense delay on this chapter. So many things have been happening to me since the last time I updated that I haven't had the time or the motivation to write. Family issues, school issues, and a depression cycle, amongst other things. On a happy note, I did hit my sixteenth birthday on January 5th, but that was one of the few bright spots I've experienced during this time. I particularly wanted to update today, considering the defining moment in my country's history - the inauguration. I got to miss school to watch it on TV, which was why I was able to flit between watching CNN and writing the rest of this chapter. I promise that I will do my best to make sure that a delay like this never happens again.
I don't think it's a very good chapter, personally - it is shorter than normal, and doesn't feel up to my usual writing standard, in my opinion - but there is some plot development going on. And some sexy stuff, as well. Yes, the chapter is indeed a Moulin Rouge reference, as I listened to El Tango de Roxanne almost the entire time I was writing this. This is dedicated to Oblea, as usual, as well as those who commented to wish me a happy birthday on LiveJournal.
A note to Zombie Kid, my second contest winner - now that this chapter is out, your fic is next on my list. And I have a good idea of how to go about it already. So expect that soon.
Please enjoy. And don't forget to check my LJ for updates on me, as well as dropping me a review on this chapter when you're done.
Glasses and Braces V
Of Christian and Roxanne
The weather had somehow regressed from blooming spring to cold winter, sharp winds searing through the streets and occasional raindrops escaping the sky. Sudden sunshine withdrawal seemed to do to people what it did to plants; the bright fabrics of spring were swapped for drab greens and browns, suiting the general drooping of disposition. This particular morning was no different: a dreary, dissatisfied Monday, where life itself seemed to have left the world and depression set in deep.
Classes hadn't started and wouldn't for a while, students taking the time to indulge in caffeine and camaraderie. Normally he would be among them, perking up in the company of friends with a hot cappuccino and a few good laughs. But he'd woken that morning with an odd tightness in his chest, passing his mother with a dull hello instead of the usual exuberant embrace. And as he left the house and stood on the sidewalk, he found that the last thing on his mind was happiness.
It was so that Zack Fair found himself walking around the football field, completely alone in the morning darkness. Students weren't allowed anywhere but the main building and the courtyard before school hours, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Drops of moisture fell on his cheeks as he looked towards the sky, vaguely wondering if the sky would finally release the torrent it had been threatening all week.
But on their journey to contemplate the ground once more, his eyes stubbornly caught onto a figure in a distance and refused to let go. Squinting, he turned his face completely upward, unable to believe what he was seeing.
And then his heart sped up, wildly slamming against his ribs, violet eyes widening as he wildly wondered how he'd only just noticed. Silver hair streamed out behind its owner in a magnificent banner, thirty feet above Zack, somehow standing out from the gray backdrop of the despondent sky.
Sephiroth was here.
Sephiroth was here, in the same place as himself, Zack Fair. And yet so far from his reach, perched near the top of the school's bleachers while he looked up from the ground. Seph always seemed far away, even when by his side. And there was always, always too much interference for him to even try to breach that chasm.
But they were alone now—though alone was a normal state of being, he had to admit. He loved his friends, the same ones that Sephiroth spurned, but at times he felt disconnected from them. As if they were in a sphere he couldn't enter.
Alone together. That was the important part.
For a moment, he wavered. He'd come to the field for solitude himself, so it stood to reason that Seph was here for the same purpose. Would he be upset if Zack tried to interrupt?
He'd be quiet, if Seph wanted. Talking wasn't as pressing a need as most people thought it was for him. He could be quiet.
And with that, Zack Fair began to climb.
Sephiroth's magnificent head hardly moved as the other teen neared, though at some point his hair had been restrained—now tucked into his sweater. There was an object in his hold, and he was staring down at it with a facial expression that faintly disturbed the center. Quietly, he took a hesitant seat next to the taller male—unable to deny his nervousness due to the lack of acknowledgement, but dammit, he would stay for as long as he could.
A few minutes passed, the rustling of wind in trees giving soundtrack for their silence. Every cell in his body cried out for something, some word, some action to let him know he was welcome. He didn't relish the thought that he was imposing on Sephiroth's space, that he was being a bother.
So caught up in internal worries was Zack, that he didn't notice said object being offered in his direction.
Sephiroth said nothing as he held it out, but a feeling of warm relief coursed through the shorter male as he took it between cold fingers. It was thicker than normal paper—a photo, he realized—and it looked old, as if Seph had been harboring it for some time. Gingerly, he flipped it over, expecting to see a relative or other.
He was shocked to be met with piercing blue eyes and a somewhat shy smile. Seph's own green pair stared out from behind the shoulder of the boy called Cloud.
"I ruined Riku's relationship in my sophomore year," Sephiroth said softly, staring out at something only he could see. "With a redhead, went by the name of Kairi. They were happy together."
Pink lips briefly thinned, as if the words were fighting him. "She was kind," he finally forced out. "She didn't deserve what I did to her."
"What happened?" Zack asked after a beat of silence, wisely changing his question from what-did-you-do. The last thing he wanted was for Seph to feel accused.
"I planted a seed of doubt in her mind as to Riku's sexuality." Seph's speech came easier now, settling into a velvety baritone, an oddly amused tone to it. "I then amassed a collection of photographs, all featuring groups of male pornography stars, and inserted Riku's face into them."
Zack couldn't suppress a snort. "What'd you do with the pictures?"
"I did nothing." Sephiroth pulled off innocence surprisingly well, despite his obvious guilt. "It was no fault of mine that said pictures were found plastered on Riku's walls."
Zack laughed at the mental image, light and airy and warm. The corners of Seph's mouth quirked slightly, but then the light of amusement faded in his viridian depths and the younger male sobered.
Silence reined for a few weighty seconds, the elder collecting his thoughts. "Riku was very distraught, and Mother was furious. My punishment was to last a summer's time, in addition to an apology."
Sephiroth took a deep breath, stuttered and shuddering, like the throaty rattle of a snake. "A forcible enrollment in etiquette camp."
The center forced himself to suppress a rabid giggle, as there was no humor in Seph's expression. "And that's where you met Cloud?"
"Yes and no." Sephiroth offered a bare nod. "I had known of him in the past; he looked after Riku in our younger years when I could not be coerced into doing so. But I did not...." here he paused, and looked at Cloud's frozen face with a depth of emotion that unnerved Zack.
Just how much sway does this kid have over Seph?
"I was....reluctant to make acquaintance with anyone else at that establishment," he said finally. "Strife was acting as junior counselor. I suppose he'd taken the post for the sake of his transcript, or something of that nature. He was notoriously shy." Sephiroth shook his head, snow-feather strands moving gently about his face. "I will admit to befriending him to take advantage of his authority, initially...."
His voice tapered off, the unsaid words lingering between them in a language Zack couldn't grasp. Seph's fists had clenched tightly, aristocratic fingers curled inward and leaving half-moon prints on his lily-white palms.
"What changed?" Zack asked.
Sephiroth's gaze turned to him at last, for the first time since they'd sat. And fierce green lightning seared through his very being—illuminating every shadowed corner of his heart—searching, probing for something.
"We maintained a friendship after the summer. I became....attached."
Zack tried to ignore the sudden stabbing in his chest.
A pregnant pause hung between them, suffocating and long. Sephiroth's fount of words seemed to have finally run dry—lips pursed and bloodless, face turned away. Outside their awkward haven the sound of engines intensified, the hour drawing near for classes to begin. Zack was running out of time, the grains of hourglass sand streaming through his grasping fingers before he could catch hold.
And then Seph was moving, rising, deft fingers sliding the photo out of Zack's limp grasp. He watched as it disappeared, tucked safely in an inside pocket. "Then what happened?" he blurted out, quailing somewhat under the resulting sharp stare but unwilling to retract the words. He'd wanted this. This closeness—though wrought with awkwardness and bitterness and broken language—he'd craved it. Needed it.
It couldn't just end. Not like this.
Sephiroth laughed, a low, ominous rumble in his chest that reminded Zack of an earthquake. "What does it matter?"
"It matters," he responded quickly, watching the spark of surprise dance around each green iris. The laughter stopped. "It's....bothering you, isn't it?"
They stared at each other for long moments. He couldn't look away from Seph's pinning stare—it was as if some spell had been cast, linking his survival to the lock of their eyes. So intent was Zack's forced scrutiny that he didn't see the hand moving upward.
Not until it brushed against his face.
Sephiroth said nothing, even as the first period gym class spilled out onto the field and their silence was broken by meaningless chatter. He simply held his fingers there, letting them linger, before they fell away. And then he was gone, hands in the pockets of his black jacket, garnering appreciative stares from the passing students. All was, once more, in order.
The breeze picked up, a gentle whisper against the skin of Zack's cheek.
The window had been shut an hour ago, the lack of breeze from the nighttime chill allowing the room to warm up and then to swelter. Cotton sheets draped over the edge of the bed, the frenzied movement of wanton bodies pulling them in rumpled disarray before rejecting them altogether. Racing pulses throbbed like death drums beneath bared skin, scraped and dotting blood from the harsh rake of scrabbling nails. They had not been gentle—knees and palms were red and slightly raw from inevitable blanket burn, muscles sore and strained from dominance and submission.
Roxas was asleep already, damp blonde spikes darkened by sweat and shining in the dim lamplight. Having spent most of their erotic play sandwiched between the other two, he was understandably exhausted, and they'd let him be after brief kisses to his flushed cheeks.
Both of the remaining were awake, however, enjoying the post-coital silence.
Silver hair fanned out over the soft skin of the brunette's chest, moving gently with the rhythm of the blue-eyed one's breathing. Affectionate fingers were twined in the ashen locks, stroking softly, gentle and unhurried.
Riku was far too used to attention, if he did say so himself. He'd grown up with it—the admiring glances of lustful strangers, the hateful stares of jealous rivals, the disappointed gazes of his parents when he failed to emulate their precious Sephiroth. But such things were fleeting—brief and fueled by bursts of emotion that faded into cold indifference.
He'd never had anything like this—pure devotion, offered to him without restraint. And he savored every moment of it.
Sora's touch was measured and continuous, the type of unconscious rhythm one fell into while idly stroking a kitten. They couldn't see each other from their respective positions, but experience told him that the brunette was deep in thought. If he were to ease himself up the other's body—the sensual brush of naked skin on naked skin pulling forth a pleased sigh—he would see stars in the other boy's eyes. All his thoughts on full, shining display.
Roxas once joked that the planets Sora visited regularly were using him as real estate. Riku had chuckled at the somewhat flimsy gag, but the thought had found a place in his mind and quietly settled there. Sora was the type to fill his soul with passions and dreams and laughingly set it free, only to be surprised when it returned with a new dimension and a yearning for home.
Briefly, Riku reached across the sheets, trailing a finger down the defined arch of his lover's back. The blonde shivered, but did not wake.
"I think we broke him, Riku," was Sora's frank comment, shifting with a quiet groan beneath Riku. He took this as a cue to rise from the brunette's chest, settling himself instead on the pillow beside that brown head.
"He enjoyed it, didn't he?" the silvette yawned. Burrowing down in the bedclothes with two warm bodies and hours stretched ahead seemed like a perfect idea.
"Course he did," Sora replied. And it wasn't the bland statement that made Riku sit up and take notice, oh no, because those words alone were as exciting as earwax. It was the sultry, almost beckoning tone with which they were released upon the air. The unconscious caress of every single, uninteresting sound.
"Did you?" was the obvious inquiry, the next step in their little game. Riku was wide awake now, the first flushes of pink arousal rising in his alabaster cheeks.
"Duh." The infantile reply was accentuated by a lazy stretch, slender limbs falling every which way in a welcoming sprawl. The only care taken was of their slumbering bedmate's space; all else about the brunette's pose was like he lacked a care in the world. Only the quickened hardening at the junction of crème thighs betrayed any internal struggle; smirking, Riku reached between Sora's legs.
They took their time this session, the innate desire to rut like animals cooled at the falling of dusk. It was night's turn to assert its dominance: the light of the moon spilled through the window panes and fell upon them in silver streams. It was patient, calm—subtle sensuality winning over the red inferno that had first seen their passions ignite.
He started with the pale skin of his lover's elegant throat, cattily nipping at hours-old bites that littered the expanse of white. Down that path he followed, pressing his lips to the jutting bone of Sora's collar and traveling across to map out a shapely shoulder. The brunette made no move to protest, letting Riku do as he wished, his deep, satisfied breathing almost matching that of his sleeping twin's.
It wasn't long before the silvette tired of this, moving downwards to the lean definition of Sora's chest. The skin was slightly tougher here—pulled over developing muscles, the rewards of strenuous athletic work. The dusky pink nubs of the brunette's nipples almost seemed out of place on the masculine display, daintily small and catching his attention. His fingers touched first, rolling and massaging between searching fingertips. Then was his mouth, lapping gently before scraping playfully with perfect teeth.
The brunette keened, a brief but pleasing sound, back arching. Riku wanted to hear it again. Greedily, he set about a delightful torture of the delicate buds, teasing each with teeth and tongue before pulling back to blow on the moistened skin. A broken moan wrenched its way from Sora's throat, hanging in the air like so much suspended glass before crashing and breaking over Riku's listening ears.
"Please..."
He'd heard that sound before, heard it in a two-part chorus from identical writhing bodies as they reached the end of their rope. Taking pity on the panting boy, he moved lower still, confronted with his lover's stiff erection. He grasped it by the base, wickedly savoring the subsequent choked-off scream before relaxing his throat and taking it into his mouth.
Riku was not the best at fellatio in their group, a fact made obvious by his immediate urge to gag. That position was taken by Roxas—somehow able to swallow the entirety of both their stiff cocks without so much as a hiccup. He'd often attributed all that skill to too many sea-salt ice cream pops before the blonde swallowed and Riku lost all coherent thought.
He counted himself lucky that Sora didn't mind the splutters and coughs before he got himself under control. Rhythmically, Riku began to bob his head—touching the shiny, moist cap to the tip of his lips before drawing it in and applying pressure. Sora's hand had again found its way to his hair, pulling and tugging on his silver locks in an attempt to ground himself.
"Gods, Riku, gods...."
There was a steady throb in Riku's head—his own pulse, or Sora's, he couldn't tell—but it was loud and insistent and blocked out everything else. He lost himself in his lover's pleasure, his own need hard and pressing against his flesh, crying out for him to sate it. One hand remained wrapped around the brunette's erection as the other traveled downward and encircled his own, spreading the drops of moisture around the tip with his thumb.
"I want—" Sora was having serious trouble making his throat work, coherent speech lost in the myriad of sensation. It took several minutes before he could speak, only after Riku ceased his ministrations long enough to listen. "Turn over. I want to suck you—"
Later, Riku would credit their reactions to the following occurrence as sheer fucking luck. If he'd still been sucking Sora off he was sure he wouldn't have heard the three timid knocks on the door.
"Fuck!" the brunette hissed, and suddenly Riku's world turned gray. "Don't move!"
Every muscle in Sora's body was pulled taut, attention rapt on the slowly opening door as if some soul-sucking monster was lurking on the other side. The image he was graced with was nowhere as dangerous—only a shy-looking Cloud, clad in soft blue pajamas.
The brunette let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, fervently hoping that his brother wouldn't sit on the bed. Offering a half-forced smile, he motioned somewhat pointedly to the empty desk chair as he tried to clear his frazzled thoughts. Riku's breath on his still-sensitive cock wasn't helping matters at all.
"What can I do for you, Cloud?"
Gingerly the blonde sat, twiddling his thumbs. "I....well," he coughed, a slowly darkening tinge of pink spreading over the bridge of his nose. "I have several...queries to converse with you about, Sora. Of a...delicate nature."
Oh? "Sure, what's up?
"Lately I have been experiencing particular....things, for Leon. Feelings, sensations, emotions. I do not know what to call them." The blonde paused, gathering his thoughts. "I cannot ascertain what they are supposed to signify."
"Yeah?" The brunette sat up fully, interest piqued. After the semi-disastrous dinner the blonde had gone completely mum on the subject of Leon. Any info they'd gotten was from eavesdropping on their mother's weekly chats with the brunette's dad. "Feelings like what?"
"Perhaps an example would be better." The blonde's gaze fell away from his own, obviously too embarrassed to look his brother in the eye. "We were in the library yesterday, perusing several volumes of research."
"Mm-hmm."
"And....I don't recall exactly what took place, but....a series of consecutive events culminated in amorous and prolonged adjacent movement of our oral cavities."
Sora blinked.
Cloud sighed. "We....made out, as you say."
"Well God, Cloud, why didn't you just say that?" The brunette exclaimed joyfully, suppressing the urge to sing. "This is totally awesome! Oh, is he a good kisser?"
"I...I have no way of determining that," his brother confessed, blushing slightly. "But I am admittedly concerned."
"About what?" Sora offered a brilliant smile. "You're together, aren't you?"
"Yes, but...." The light pink dusting on the bridge of Cloud's nose deepened to a rosy red. "It felt abnormal, in some manner. Like a foreign type of....heat."
The brunette grinned. "Well, duh, Cloud. You're going to want to have sex and do all that other stuff at some point."
"....sex?"
There was an awkward pause.
"....you do know what that is, don't you?" the brunette asked warily.
Cloud rolled his eyes. "I have completed elementary and advanced biology, Sora. It makes little sense for me to want to copulate with Leon considering that neither of us can bear children."
The nearby wall looked particularly inviting for a nice, solid, cranial bang. "Cloud, it's not....sex isn't about babies, okay?"
The blonde stared. "Yes, it is."
"Well, yes, but—but not entirely." A muffled snicker came from under the heavy blankets. Riku was obviously enjoying this. "You....you kiss and have sex and stuff because it feels good. And so you can get closer to the other person."
"But....do the feelings I'm experiencing mean that I have to do it straightaway?" His brother looked pained. "I am not comfortable with the idea of that. I enjoyed what occurred, but....it felt strange."
"Oh, Cloud...."
Confusion and sadness clouded those clear blue eyes. "I...I do not want things between Leon and I to change."
Sora wished that he wasn't naked. The blonde looked so forlorn, sitting there like that—his mind screamed at him to cross the room and hug his distressed sibling. "I think you should talk to Leon about this, Cloud," he advised softly. "Tell him you want to take things slow."
"You hold the opinion that this is the superior course of action?"
"Um....well, yeah, I think this is the best thing to do."
"Then I will talk to him." The blonde rose from his seat, offering a wan smile. "I thank you for your positive input."
"No problem!" Sora replied cheerily, and offered a jaunty wave as Cloud walked out the door.
"That was fucking priceless," was Riku's sage comment as he flung the covers off himself and sat up. "Poor Cloudy needs sex advice. Never thought I'd see the day."
"Don't be mean, Riku," he said, swatting his boyfriend lightly. "He's never been in a relationship before or even liked someone, as far as I know. He doesn't know these things."
"It was decent of you to help him, though," the silvette said. His eyes were soft as he looked at Sora, causing a small storm of excited butterflies to flutter in the brunette's chest. Almost two years of dating and that feeling hadn't gone away. Sora hoped it never would.
"Well, he's my brother," he replied sleepily as Riku pushed him back, slowly, carefully into the bedsheets. "I want to make sure he's okay."
"Mmm," came the intelligent reply, accompanied by a yawn. The earlier relapse of desire seemed to have cooled entirely, as Riku turned off the lamp and spooned him. Yet they were both withheld from sleep by sudden movement and a deep groan; bleary blue eyes peeked open and pale limbs stretched upward. "Whassamatta?"
"Nothing, Roxas," Riku replied as he reached over Sora, his lips finding the skin of the small blonde's cheek before settling back into his spot. Roxas shifted, his swirly head moving to rest on Sora's shoulder.
"Go back to sleep."
He woke with a start in the middle of the night, skin quivering and mind hazed. Images flashed past his mental eye, things he couldn't remember seeing but which seemed all too real in the pre-dawn darkness. His heart thumped away at his ribcage, resuming its battle to break the sturdy bones with renewed vigor.
Bemused, Leon settled back among the pillows and closed his eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. But something was raging within him that was impossible to ignore. He flashed back to the library, Cloud's soft lips under his own—and his mind rushed to provide extra stimulation—from kissing to pushing the blonde atop the worktable, sweeping books and papers out of the way—
The sleekness of his silk boxers was maddening. Maddening, for some reason he couldn't understand. Moaning, he squirmed, pulling them off and exposing himself to the cold night air. His pulse pounded in his ears, blood rushing, thoughts clouding until he could register only that he was hard—painfully so—too much to allow him to fall asleep again.
Almost timidly, his hand began a slow journey down his body before it hesitantly encircled his length. The stiff flesh was shamefully damp when he touched it.
This felt wrong. On some level, this felt wrong—like he was doing a bad thing, a wicked thing. But that firm hold felt so deliciously good, strange and unfamiliar as it was, and the sharp streaks of pleasure that spiraled through him commanded he not stop.
Visions of blonde took over his thoughts, the dream-Cloud smiling temptingly with eyes bright and limbs askew. He imagined lying over that lithe body, enveloping it in his arms, snaking deft fingers under that white button-down to touch the pale skin underneath—
A whispered curse fell from Leon's lips before he muffled it with the pillow and spilled out into his hand.
Panting and sweaty, he groped around for the discarded boxers and cleaned himself off. His last thought before sleep took hold was the wish for the dream to be real.
Fin