Sora/Riku, maybe a bit of AkuRoku and other side pairings later on
Angsty romance
Rated M for language, sexual content, heavy drug use, and character death
(A/N): This chapter is getting split into parts because it's just...too long. XD I'd never force you guys to read through such a long chapter of my blahness. Not sure how many parts, but yes...parts.
Anyhoo, in this chapter there is Roxas, stripping, pants dropping with a touch of angst. Fun, fun. Haha. Hopefully it's not too bad and you guys will stick with this fic. Please, please review! I really want to know what you think. It also kind of sucks when you have a whole bunch of hits, people alerting and favoriting this fic, but not reviewing, y'know?
Enjoy, lovelies!
-Duckie
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts
Dirty Vegas (Part I)
"All right, you will cooperate tonight," Sora growled, "I'm in control here, and you will do as I command!"
The brunette was seated at his vanity and was staring intensely at his Violet Starz eye pencil, his tone domineering and his face set like a drill sergeant's. He was prepared to wage all out war on eye makeup if he was not complied with.
Needless to say, Sora was feeling better tonight. Zexion had given him something really good that previous night and it was holding him well. He knew that he would probably need another hit soon, but for now, he was content.
"Sora, you skank, are you in there?" A disgruntled voice called from outside Sora's dressing room. The brunette threw one last threatening glance at his eyeliner before looking away and smiling. He knew that voice.
"Hey, ho," Sora retorted with a grin, continuing to apply his eyeliner (slipping it threats beneath his breath occasionally) as the door opened behind him and a pair of slim arms wrapped around his neck in a gentle embrace. Blue eyes met a pair of identical azure peepers as Sora gazed into the mirror at the reflection of his best friend, Roxas Yugure.
Roxas was the kind of boy that Sora would marry. He was always there to talk to him when times got too hard. They could laugh together; they could cry together; they could scream together until their throats were shredded and raw. Roxas was also ready to kick the shit out of anyone who crossed Sora in any way.
And when times were quiet, they could enjoy each other's silence without feeling uneasy or the impulse to say something, anything. Yes, Roxas was probably the one person most suited to spend his life with Sora. The only trouble was that Roxas looked exactly like him.
Save for Roxas's shorter, spiky blonde hair and the subtle nuances in his facial features, Roxas and Sora could pass as twins and people had often mistaken them as such. They stood shoulder to shoulder in height, boasting nigh identical statures and shared a laugh that was similar in both gusto and volume.
"You'll never believe this…" the blonde whined, "Marly's got us doing the pair performance tonight." He groaned dramatically and buried his face in Sora's shoulder. Sora's eyes widened considerably and he dropped his eye pencil.
"You have got to be shitting me." Sora declared in disbelief, "Please, tell me you're joking, Roxas." The fair-haired boy popped his head back up and spoke to the reflected brunette.
"'Fraid not, buttercup," he said bitterly, unlatching his arms from Sora's neck and leaning against the edge of the vanity, arms crossed, "We're on right after Olette." Sora whined and dropped his head to the table, arms splayed out carelessly in his trademark "oh, woe is me" pose.
"Damn Marluxia, whyyyyy?" He griped, pouting as he kicked his legs childishly. No matter how many times Sora took his clothes off for the world to see and no matter how many times he shot up or snorted cocaine, Sora was and always would be a child at heart. Roxas's voice sounded faraway when he spoke again from somewhere above him.
"Please don't tell me you forgot the routine already," He asked worriedly. Sora rolled his eyes and lifted his head, tugging irritably at one of his spikes.
"No, I remember it," he assured his friend (who gave an audible sigh of relief), "It's just…overwork much?" Roxas nodded in agreement and picked up a container of eyeshadow, examining it with little interest.
"He says there are some 'promising clients' going to be here tonight and he wants 'to show off our crème de la crème.'" Sora laughed and shook his head, resuming his eyeliner escapade. "Promising clients" were the customers with money, and lots of it. They were the ones who owned big businesses in the First and Second Districts and the casinos and nightclubs here in the Third District with their branches all over the world. And Marluxia, their pink-haired choreographer slash costume designer was always watching to see what walking dollar sign would be seeking entertainment at Illusions next.
"So much for going home early tonight…" Sora grumbled, picking up his eyeliner and finishing up with his eyes. He snatched the eyeshadow from Roxas's hands and opened it. Roxas scoffed as Sora began to smear the onyx eyeshadow onto his lids.
"Go home early? Bitch please…we can't afford to go home early."
Sora frowned slightly. "So true, so very true…" he sighed dramatically. He then perked up as a thought sprang into his mind. "Hey, Mar said that we were getting some richie-riches tonight, so maybe if we're sooo good that we blow the smoke detectors, we'll be able to get enough money to get Madame Hui's tonight!" Sora turned to face Roxas with an expectant look on his face. Roxas grinned widely.
"I like the way you think, hotpants…" Roxas commented. Sora chose to ignore this jibe at his sinfully short shorts and shrugged with a smile.
"Elementary, my dear Watson, elementary," he adopted a perfect imitation of an English accent when he spoke and earned a laugh from his friend, who Sora gladly joined in with. Laughter was the only way he kept from crying.
"Sora!" a voice surprised them both from the doorway, "You're up next, and you and Rox on right after—"
"Olette," Roxas finished quickly, "We know, thanks, Yuffie. Now could you please put a shirt on?" The girl named Yuffie had short black hair and large brown eyes. She had long legs and light skin. She giggled and rolled her eyes at Roxas's comment.
"Oh, come on," Yuffie put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side, "You act like you don't see these and more every night from all the girls here."
"Yah, but it doesn't make it any less unpleasant, dearie," Roxas shot back, "Now scoot, he'll be out in a sec."
"Whatev," the black haired girl chirped with a smile as she bounced back down the hall. Roxas gave something that was akin to a shudder before he turned back to the brunette. Sora took this time to really take a look at what Roxas was wearing. His ensemble consisted of a white, long-sleeved Oxford, a red tie, and tan pants. Currently his feet were devoid of shoes, a pair of white socks in their place.
"So, what're you supposed to be?" Sora inquired, though he already had an idea. Roxas quirked an eyebrow and reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of lenseless, black-rimmed glasses.
"Naughty Catholic schoolboy," he crooned in a husky voice, licking his top lip seductively. Sora snorted and Roxas dropped the act shaking his head and removing the glasses.
"It's a shame you don't need glasses," Sora commented, standing up and closing his left eye. He rubbed the tips of his fingers in the dark eyeshadow, "You look really good with them on." Roxas snorted and began to mess with his hair in the mirror.
"Yeah, well, maybe if I stare at Yuffie's tits long enough my eyesight will be ruined." Sora burst into a fit of laughter and dropped the eyeshadow container, whilst Roxas merely smiled and glanced at the clock. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. He turned back to the hysterical brunette and rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh himself.
"Come on, Sor, move your ass!" Roxas commanded as he clapped his hands rapidly, trying to move his friend along. Sora's laughter abruptly died away and he let out a sound that was half scream and half groan as he hurriedly spread the eyeshadow on his other lid. He wiped his blackened fingers on an old T-shirt and turned to face his friend, slightly panicked.
"Gah, how do I look?" Sora demanded, standing up and facing Roxas, hands on his hips. Roxas snorted before answering.
"Sluttastic," he assured him, "Now get out there and earn us some dinner!" He grabbed Sora's shoulders and turned him so that he faced the door. He gave him a swift pat on the ass educing a mousy squeak from the surprised brunette, and pushed him towards the hall. Sora chuckled at his friend's antics and paused on his way out.
"Yeah, 'I spread 'em for egg rolls' ought to do the trick, right?" he joked. Roxas snickered and spread his arms and shrugged.
"Whatever gets us fed, Lolita" Sora grinned and exited the room, the smile disappearing from his features as soon he was out of Roxas's sight. Whatever gets us fed. Sora laughed humorlessly.
Of course…he thought, Why else do you think I do this? He was mentally preparing himself for what he was about to endure when the door that led to the showroom opened and a sweat slicked Zexion entered the narrow corridor, pulling a bathrobe over his naked body as he went. The money that was peeking out from the robe pockets did not escape Sora's notice. Zexion smiled when he saw Sora.
"Knock 'em dead, Vegas," he encouraged with a wink and a pat on the shoulder as he passed. Sora paused.
Vegas. Dirty Vegas. That was him, and yet it wasn't. Physically he was still Sora Hikari, but his mind and soul…well, those were things that made their beds in the graves of his hidden misery. Because when he stepped onto that stage, he lost his identity. When he stepped onto that stage, he was no longer Sora Hikari. He was Dirty Vegas.
"How in the hell did you guys get me here?" Riku asked laughingly, grasping his umpteenth shot glass. He was seated at one of the front tables with a group of guys, all in various stages of inebriation, as a purple-haired man finished up his dance on stage.
To celebrate his twenty-first birthday, a group of Riku's closest friends had gotten him to come out to some co-ed strip joint called Illusions. They had tried to convince him that it would be fun, naming all sorts of merits the club held. Riku was just there for the alcohol.
Surrounding him, his friends were laughing raucously and tossing dollar bills to the stage. Riku looked over at them, shaking his head in amusement. Here they were, the great sons of the gods of Traverse Town, getting drunk off their faces and blowing cash on male and female strippers alike. Their forefathers must be rolling in their graves.
To Riku's left was Axel Hino, a gorgeous man with spiky red hair and emerald eyes accentuated by tattooed triangles beneath. He was the son of Gemlin Hino, owner of Gemini Electronics, a company that produced cellular phones, computers, televisions, and mp3s among other things that were exceedingly popular all over the world. Beside Axel was his brother, Reno, whose hair was just as red, though longer, and whose eyes were just as green. He was nestled into the side of a strapping looking black man with shades. His name was Rude and he had been hired as the personal bodyguard of the Hino brothers. Now he was that and the lover of Reno Hino.
Beside them was a surly looking man with a black skull cap, and muscular arms that were folded over his chest. Seifer Almasy's claim to fame was the huge fortune that he was in for when he inherited the money that his father made as a manufacturer of popular sports cars.
Tidus Shima, tan, dirty blonde and a bit on the shorter side, was the son of Casius Shima, owner of a string of popular nightclubs that were prevalent in popular areas like the Vice District. Though a lucrative business, there were rumors that a great deal of his fortune amounted from winnings in bets on rigged Blitzball games.
Hayner Nichibotsu was the heir to the gorgeous Exodus Hotels that attracted both wealthy clients and celebrities alike. Hayner had met more famous faces in those hotels and at his parents' parties than anyone could meet at the Oscar's.
In short, Riku's table was one giant bank account.
"What kind of birthday is this?" Riku pretended to complain, "No birthday cake, no presents, what the hell?" His tipsy friends laughed heartily and Riku knocked back another shot.
"Hey, you could always buy yourself a lap dance," Axel suggested, toasting him with his shot glass, "That oughta make a good gift."
"You know what, Ax?" Riku began to retort, but was drowned out by the sudden chants of "Vegas! Vegas! Vegas!" Riku wrinkled his nose in confusion.
"What the hell?" he mouthed to Axel. The redhead just shrugged as the lights dimmed further and the stage was illuminated by flashing colors.
"Guess the show is starting," he inferred, before turning to face the stage where a figure was emerging from the shadows.
Dirty Vegas took the stage, deafened by the wild cheers and wolf whistles of the crowd. He moved in time with the music, a rock song that was uncommon for strippers. His hips swayed as he went, bringing himself to the shiny pole that reflected his surroundings in abstract shapes. Taking hold of it, he took a quick breath and began.
He expertly lifted himself onto the pole, climbing it with ease. The flashing lights that had once been dizzying to him were now just a nuisance. He felt as if he were dancing in a giant Crayola box.
Open wide!
In time with the music, he spread his legs on either side of the pole, hovering above the ground, just as he was taught. He was pretty good at memorizing his routines now, and didn't have to think about what it was that he was supposed to do next.
Space and time distort the mind.
He let himself slide down the pole slowly, legs still spread before wrapping them around the silver and turning himself upside down, continuing his progression to the floor. Oftentimes he wished that he didn't know his moves so well and that he had to think about what to do next. It kept him from thinking about the humiliation he was subjecting himself to.
Constantly, we dance in sheets
In a feat of expertise and dexterity, Vegas kicked his legs backwards and arched his back, feet landing gracefully on the floor. He let go of the pole and dropped to his knees, running his hands along his body, his hips swinging with the music.
It feels so right to be so wrong
He rolled onto his back, the stage cold against his back and lifted his hips, dragging his hands up his thighs, back over his torso and through his hair, his face imitating a mask of ecstasy.
Normal love set aside, leave your
Heart at the bedside
He flipped himself over with impressive speed that matched the song and went to his hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the stage like a salacious sex kitten. He was coming to the part where he was supposed to select one "lucky dog" to receive a lap dance. He scanned the crowd swiftly, before remembering what Roxas had told him.
Contaminate the air like you do
Swear I'm telling you the truth.
Vegas internally rolled his eyes. If he didn't pick from one of the "promising clients" Marluxia would have his ass for a handbag. He almost laughed at the thought of what some people did to make a buck…but that would make him a hypocrite wouldn't it? He fought the thought off by shifting his attention back to the uproarious crowd.
His eyes locked onto the table and met with a pair of startlingly beautiful viridescent blue eyes framed by long, silvery bangs. Vegas recognized him. Mister Riku Marcello. In fact, he recognized everyone at his table. Rich boys out for yet another night of fun. Honestly he could've chosen from any one of them to reap a hefty profit, but it did not escape his notice that it was the silver-haired man that was completely entranced, heavily under the spell of a stripper. With a sly smirk, Vegas decided on his "lucky dog."
The brunette stood and sashayed to the edge of the stage, giving a subtle nod and wink to one of the waitresses in the crowd. She nodded and came up behind Riku and brought both hands behind his back, holding them firmly. There was a strict no touching rule at the club, and it was everyone's part to make sure that it was enforced.
Riku looked vaguely surprised. He obviously knew what was going to happen (probably from prior experience), but had not been expecting it to happen to him. Dirty Vegas grinned and slipped deftly from the stage. He meandered with a feline grace over to the bound man who was staring straight at him, looking as if he was having trouble breathing.
Jaded Masquerade.
With a dramatic side kick of his leg, Dirty Vegas settled himself onto the lap of the viridian eyed man. He looked him square in the eyes with a commanding air that said "I'm the one in control." Riku didn't seem to hold any objections to that.
No Names.
He grasped the lapels of Riku's shirt and arched his back swinging his upper body in a slow semicircle before bringing his face insanely close to Riku's.
Contradicting fates.
It's all the same.
Vegas's expert fingers that slowly ran up the inside of Riku's inner thigh made the muscles jump rapidly as if they were trying to break through his skin. Riku bit his lip and groaned in frustration. If only he could touch him…. Unfortunately, the grip on his wrists of the girl behind him was unyielding. Yesterday Riku had told Queenie that he wouldn't need any of her boys tonight. Well, at this rate, he would be needing to call upon her unless…. Unless of course he could persuade Dirty Vegas to spend the night with him….
I'm telling you the truth,
Telling you the truth I swear...
Vegas slid his hands over the expanse of Riku's chest and over his shoulders, bringing his lips to his neck and breathing hotly onto his skin, allowing a pleasured moan or two just to feel him shudder with want beneath him. He grinned as he felt the silver-haired man's thighs tighten and a growing bulge between them.
"What's your name?" Riku asked breathily.
"Dirty Vegas," the brunette answered automatically. Sora Hikari ceased to exist.
"H-how about we get out of here?" the silver-haired man suggested through shuddering breath. Vegas smirked and grinded his hips into the man's lap before responding.
"How about we don't?" he countered saucily. Vegas was used to these kinds of offers, though this time he had to admit that he was having second thoughts about his refusal. The man that was a slave to his every whim right now was exceedingly, sinfully, drop dead gorgeous.
"I could show you a good time," Riku persisted, lifting his hips slightly to meet Vegas's slowly gyrating ones. The brunette smirked, leaning closer to Riku, allowing his nose to skim the shell of his ear before whispering throatily.
"And I could show you the door." He then put on a faux sweet smile and tried not to laugh at the aroused man before him. He was flushed with something that was probably a hybrid between lust and anger. With a soft chuckle, Vegas decided that he had done enough teasing and that it was time to take to the stage again. First cardinal rule of stripping for wealthy clients: always leave them wanting more.
He winked at Riku, whose pale face was now glowing red, and danced back towards the stage, defiantly keeping Riku's gaze and mouthing the words of the song.
I just want your attention, baby
Lord knew that this Dirty Vegas guy certainly had Riku's complete and undivided attention as he slid from his lap and strutted back to the stage, effortlessly lifting himself back up with an impertinent smile all the while. Riku groaned as he felt his pants tighten around him as Dirty Vegas took the pole again, grasping it with both hands.
Every sweat-soaked night
He dipped low and grinded into the pole, rotating his body to face the crowd, one arm bent backward over his head still grasping the metal.
Every taunting fight
As the note was dragged out in the music, he began to sink torturously slow to the floor, his one hand still on the pole, the other reaching between his open legs to touch the stage. Keeping in sync with the cadence of the blaring song, Vegas pulled himself up and strutted front and center to the edge of the stage.
Lock the doors
With an impish smirk, Vegas locked eyes boldly with Riku, bringing his fingers to the zipper of his vest. He began to tug down the zipper, moving his hips in time to the music. He let it slip to the floor of the stage and he kicked it away carelessly, the excitement building up in the mass below him becoming almost tangible. Riku, being at a table in the very near front was gripping his pants legs in earnest, trying to keep himself from taking the brunette where he stood.
Turn off the lights
The boy called Dirty Vegas bit his bottom lip sensuously and closed his eyes, caressing his bare upper body as if it was the most glorious thing in the world. His hands traveled down to his swaying hips, bringing Riku's eyes down with them. Teasing at the snap buttons on either side, it seemed as if the whole world was waiting on bated breath.
Remove all your clothes
With a final decisive tug, Vegas liberated himself of his leather shorts and threw them to the side, earning a wild uprising of cheers and catcalls from the crowd. Riku was practically picking his jaw up from the table when the boy unveiled his glorious body, smooth and wet, shimmering blue, green and red in the blinking lights. He ended his routine with a quick go at the pole before sweeping up the dollar bills that he was gifted with and disappearing from the stage.
Riku was stunned. Was that kind of body even legal?
"Did you enjoy the show?" Axel's amused voice came from somewhere far away. Riku broke from his trance and turned to his friends who were looking at him with goofy grins. Riku frowned and colored slightly, pushing Axel good-naturedly.
"Didn't you?" Riku challenged, an eyebrow raised, watching his friends expectantly. Tidus raised his hand with a smirk on his face.
"Straight boy here," he said simply. Riku rolled his eyes and laughed, knocking back a shot and slamming it down George Clooney style. He then looked back at his other friends and grinned.
"And what about the rest of you pipe bangers?" He asked, leaning on his elbows, his head tipping slightly from the hard liquor.
"Definitely something I'd take home…" Seifer said hoarsely, his eyes clouded with lust, still fixated on the space where Dirty Vegas once stood.
"Hell yeah," Hayner chimed in with a tipsy swagger, "You're so lucky you got a lap dance outta that one." Riku gave a "what can I say?" kind of shrug and sniggered. He looked back at Axel expectantly, not even bothering with Reno who looked to be slowly slipping into a liquor-induced stupor against Rude's shoulder.
"Well," Riku started, "What do you have to say for yourself, Marinara?" Axel sent a mock glare in Riku's direction and snickered before leaning back in his chair, arms folded.
"He was fucking hot, no questions asked, but…" Axel pursed his lips, seeming to choose his words carefully, "But he's too soft for my taste." Riku raised a quizzical brow.
"Oh, and how's that?" he queried with a laugh. Axel shrugged and glanced back at the stage that was already bringing out the next performance: a cute-faced brunette whose hair turned up at the ends, and was dressed immodestly in a flimsy orange dress.
"I like my boys with a bit of edge," the redhead explained, "He seems like he's trying to hold on to his last bit of innocence." Riku snorted derisively and motioned for one of the waitresses to bring him another round of drinks.
"Don't get so philosophical, Ax, it doesn't suit you" he joked, earning a soft punch in the shoulder. "Besides, he's just a stripper—it's the life he chose—what innocence could he possibly have left?"
The room was dark when Sora stepped back inside his dressing room. Wrapping his robe tightly around him, he didn't even bother to flip the switch. He closed the door, enveloping himself in darkness, the only light being the gold band that filtered through the space beneath the door.
He felt dirty. Grimy, contaminated and every other word for the violated aura that encompassed him now. As wrinkled dollar bills rustled in his pocket, Sora wrapped his arms around himself and sank to the floor, back to the wall. He looked as if he was trying to hold himself together.
How did he get here? Why was he doing this? When would it end? They were questions that had plagued him for so long without answers. The prowess that he had adopted on stage was quickly melting away. What would Riku Marcello think if he were to see him now?
Riku Marcello. He had been, without a doubt, the single most beautiful creature he had seen in his entire life. The way the multi-colored lights had danced on the surface of his platinum hair made him seem like some kind of acid god. His body had been flawless beneath his clothes as the brunette had slowly run his hands over his figure, committing every contour and texture to memory.
And those eyes…God, help him, those eyes. Aquamarine and feline. They had the appearance of two very rare precious jewels set against tropical sands, asking to take him far away. Unfortunately they were one dimensional and Riku was just like the rest of them. Shallow and under the influence of lust and alcohol, making offers to "show him a good time." Those eyes hadn't seen a person suffering inside when they had gazed at Sora. They had seen a thing; a toy. And maybe he was a toy. A toy that was so used and abused that it was past the breaking point and beyond repair. His defenses crumbled and his meticulously constructed façade shattered as the tears began.
"'Someone catch me, because I think I'm falling…'" he whispered hoarsely through his tears, the words from somewhere that he couldn't quite remember.
But there was no one there to hold him. And there was no one there to catch him as he fell. Fell into himself and placed his hands over his ears and tried to block out the thudding bass that was an amplification of his heart, both of which he wished would just stop.
And that's the end of Chapter One, Part One. Hopefully the second half will be up soon, but that all depends on reviews! What did you think? Should I keep going? Should I trash it? Did you love it? Did you hate it? Review and let me know, pretties! :3
Always,
Duckie