Only the Beginning

For Gimmik, on her birthday, for being an amazing reader who never wavered in her interest for the one character I was always uncertain about, for being a dedicated and kind artist who has given me irreplaceable inspiration, and most importantly for being a very patient, great friend. I hope the wait was worth it, and have a great birthday!

On a side note, if anything said in this little chapter add-on contradicts anything I said in the chapters before or after the events in this (since it's been so long since I wrote those), whatever is said in this is the real truth, since my thought processes have come a long, long way since I wrote those original chapters and I've probably changed my mind a dozen times since then. Thanks for all of the amazing support for this story, and also for this twisted little couple.

And for a change: present tense!

Chapter Fifteen Add-on: Only the Beginning – (written September 2006)

-o-o-

"I hate you."

It is said in a soft growl, his voice sounding foreign to even his own ears—brusque, thick as though his throat doesn't want to work. He and Yami have only shared a few kisses, but the effect has been intoxicating, loosening the knots of his mind and carrying him towards a destination he could have never predicated.

Desire. For a boy—no, a man—he hates.

"I know."

This is whispered in return, Yami's silky voice giving away nothing, just breathed into his ear as if those words mean little to him. Hate has no room here, so it seems, where interests are purely in body.

He lets Yami maneuver him backwards, his heart racing as he realizes where to, but amber eyes lock with his, hypnotizing, and soft lips claim his again, and his worried thoughts slip away from him. The kiss doesn't remain idle, Yami making it perfectly clear what he wants as he curls a hand in Riku's hair, forcibly tilts the boy's head and thrusts into his mouth, touching his tongue to Riku's to coax it to play.

The room spins, the mahogany and black bleeding into the gold, and Riku forces his eyes closed, feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed, but Yami's insistence encourages him to respond. The sensations of their tongues touching, stroking, and retreating, only to brush again, send a pleasant shiver through him, heat building in his cheeks. He chases Yami's teasing caresses, not wanting to be outdone despite his inexperience, and at his determination, he feels Yami's lips shift, just a little quirk of a smile, as if amused. Riku closes his mouth around the playful tongue, circling it as he slowly pulls out of the kiss, not sure what he's doing, but it felt like a challenge, and he isn't about to let Yami take complete control.

Yami accepts it, easily moving back in, catching Riku's mouth again before the kiss can fully separate, and Riku can't help drawing in a sharp breath of surprise at the thrill he gets from it. Before he knows it, his fingers are curling tightly into Yami's white shirt at his waist as excitement poisons his veins.

He wants this. There is no doubt about it. As the older boy tugs his head back farther, Riku lets him, Riku parts his lips more, Riku even finds himself teasing back, thrusting his tongue forward and drawing it back before Yami can meet him. He wants to get a reaction out of the older boy, anything, even a frustrated noise. He doesn't get one, but he finds it fun to try, to experiment with the different ways of applying pressure into their kiss. Even the different ways their tongues graze, or the way Yami's teeth feel against him, send varying shivers and delightful surges through him, drawing him effortlessly into this little web of desire.

The rest of the room—the mini-library, elaborate rug, sleek piano, the stained glass windows and the curtains and the balcony—all disappear with the rest of the world as Riku feels the back of his knees bump into what Yami had been guiding him towards. The bed.

He tenses and pulls quickly out of the kiss, breathing raggedly as he tries to collect his thoughts, but they're scattered like shreds of paper that can't quite be made a whole again. When he swallows to clear his throat, it's like trying to stomach his pounding heart, anticipation gripping it like a vise but a hint of fear beginning to edge into it. He can taste Yami's desire on his tongue, rich and lingering, tasting like nothing and everything at the same time, because though he knows Yami wants this, he can't tell if Yami is enjoying it.

Maybe it doesn't matter, as long the promise is kept, this strange payment. Though he does want this, in the end. He isn't sure why he keeps having to remind himself—is it so surprising?—because it's easy to become lost when studying the older boy, something about his masculine beauty that is completely captivating, graceful yet purposeful, seductive on its own. Even his voice, cello-like, leaves him wanting more, deep and soothing yet haunting and mysterious in its own way, but sometimes woven with underlying emotions, like now. Husky with desire, adorned with amusement. Riku wants to hear what other pitches he is capable of creating.

But he knows this isn't his performance. Yami has complete control as his slender fingers skim down Riku's sides, tickling his ribs and pressing into his waist where they pause against the skin bared by his black cutoff. Though he doesn't do anything at first, the simple touch of his fingertips, little pinpricks of warmth against Riku's pale skin, make the rest of Riku feel extra sensitive, hyper alert. With his eyes closed, he notices every single change in his body, like the gathering heat under the surface of his skin where Yami is touching, like the tightening in his gut and the stiffening of his nipples, all subtle signs of his obvious arousal.

His heart is beating so fast that it's hard to breathe normally, or at least pretend to, because every inhalation comes shaky, forced, as if afraid of giving himself away. But Yami already knows how much he likes this.

The touch of fingertips becomes the touch of palms, soft but firm guides as they slip back up his sides, moving inward to fully run along his abdomen. Yami's hands seem to meld against his body, fingers curved and pressing into his back, the arch of his palms massaging up his chest, his thumbs rubbing into the dips of his muscles, eliciting unexpectedly nice shudders from him. When his hands slip under his shirt, slowly pushing it upward to continue their journey, the air feels cold against his feverish skin, sending a chill up his arms, a stark contrast to the heat pooling inside of him. The fingers reach his ribs, and he bites his lip, his lashes fluttering from the effort of stifling his voice.

Yami's thumbs feel rough against his nipples as they press into them, rolling the hardened nubs, so easily, so fast, that Riku hardly has time to digest the sudden onslaught of pleasure before he's releasing a surprised, aroused sound, soft but high pitched and wanton. Yami's lips find his in a brief, rough kiss as his fingers close over his nipples and squeeze, and Riku gasps into Yami's mouth as a sharp but quick pain races through him, followed quickly by a lingering delight and a yearning for more.

He pushes into Yami's hands and tries to deepen the kiss, but Yami actually pulls away, nipping his lip in warning as if putting him in his place. Giving an irritated sigh, Riku glares, but his heated look only makes Yami smile. His long fingers find the edge of Riku's skintight shirt, still bunched up from Yami's teasing, and Riku understands what he wants. He obediently lifts his arms, Yami slipping it effortlessly over his head and discarding it.

Riku's eyes rise, obscured slightly by the bangs in his face, but he seeks out Yami's expression, whose amber eyes are tracing the lines of Riku's shoulders. Riku has no time to wonder what Yami is thinking, because those nimble hands return to Riku's body to distract him, only this time holding nothing back. They run freely over his chest and rub into his abs, eliciting shudders as Yami finds places that Riku hadn't even known were sensitive, his muscles growing taut but loosening once Yami's touches find them. Fingertips trail along his sides to his shoulder blades, skimming down the dip of his spine to the small of his back, drawing a distracted hum out of Riku, whose back arches at the attention.

But then the hands slip right past the waist of his pants, snapping him out of his pleasurable daze, his thoughts running wild at the suddenness and ease of Yami's confident caresses. He hesitantly shrinks away, not so sure now, but Yami's hands keep him from going anywhere. They cup his butt and pull him forward, firmly pressing their bodies together, and Riku feels his erection push against Yami's thigh where it's impossible to miss and impossible to deny. Yami has no intention to.

Riku stiffens, panic filtering through him as he stands there cradled between Yami's strong arms, those warm hands squeezing his butt cheeks, eliciting a new level of arousal from him. His breath hitches at the feeling, all of those tiny thrills running along his nerves building up, gathering in his gut, an incredible heat rising with his pleasure and numbing his mind. His lips part, his mouth falling open in wonder as Yami began to knead into him, a place Riku had never expected to feel so good but is now driving him wild. Yami's teeth graze his neck, and Riku lowers his face to hide his deep blush as he pushes his ass into Yami's hands, seeking more.

That's when Yami's knee comes up, sliding between his legs, and brushes against his erection. The friction is hard and unrelenting, an intense wave of pleasure making Riku choke out a cry, something partway between a groan and a gasp, undeniably erotic, and fuck it feels so good. The intensity of the exhilaration completely captures him in that moment, seizes control of his instincts, and makes him a slave to his own senses to where he can't even hold back a low whimper. He rocks himself against Yami's knee, his brow drawing together with frustration, because it is frustrating, this need for more attention and the accompanying fear of letting himself go.

A second grind of Yami's knee actually makes his legs give out, his fingers scrambling over Yami's chest and clutching into his shirt to keep himself from falling, but Yami takes advantage of his instability to push him backwards onto the bed.

The black sheets billow outward as he lands on the mattress, breathless and disoriented, his eyes flitting upward at the maroon canopy rustling from the tremors he has created. Yami pulls away from him, and Riku slips his hands into his own hair and holds his head, trying to make the world stop spinning. While he lies there, Yami's hands work on removing his shoes, and he rests in a dreamlike state, the nest of sheets and pillows around him feeling unbelievably velveteen, fit for a king. But...

The strange perfection of this situation, even the foreign bed, feel off, and something cold begins to creep into him, a trickle of poison. And there he feels a subtle hollowness, and from that hollowness comes a spider of a thought, its spindle legs weaving one solid idea amongst his chaotic desire.

What am I doing?

Sora's face flashes through his mind, the blue of his eyes dousing part of his passion immediately, but it's too late. Yami, finished with Riku's footwear, climbs onto the bed, and Riku watches him, amber eyes coolly meeting his from behind messy bangs.

Maybe Riku's sudden concern shows on his face, or maybe Yami is just good at reading him, because those bright eyes narrow knowingly at him, and Riku finds himself pinned to the bed before he knows what's happening.

Strong hands clamp around his wrists and Yami's mouth crushes against his, stealing his breath and his thoughts. A curtain of white hair falls around him as Yami straddles him, leaving no room to escape, even if he'd want to. Yami's eagerness catches him off guard, the kiss demanding, his mind sent awhirl as soon as their tongues touch. When his wrists are released, Riku laces his hands in Yami's gorgeous hair, tugging his face closer—

"Nn."

—but Yami breaks the kiss, pushing his hands away. Almost as if he doesn't want to be touched. Riku's heart sinks with disappointment, but he doesn't want to just let Yami do all the work. Trying again, he slips his palms over Yami's hips.

Yami catches his hands, but instead of pushing them away this time, he holds them for a moment, hesitating, and then guides them to the bottom of his white shirt. Riku takes the hint and begins to tug it upward, revealing more of that light chocolate skin, wanting to run his palms over the tantalizing curves just to see what they feel like against his hands, or even run a finger over one of those dusky nipples, like Yami had done with him.

Yami helps Riku pull the shirt off and toss it aside, his silky hair slipping over his shoulders as he leans forward, meeting Riku's gaze with a subtle smirk. "If you want something, keyblade master," he murmurs, "do not hesitate to take it." But even from such a low tone, Riku hears how sultry it has become.

Wetting his lips, Riku gives a short nod, taking the permission while he has the chance, and fans his hands against Yami's chest. It's firm but warm under his fingertips, the skin smooth and taut over his muscles, and just underneath the surface is his heartbeat—beating rapidly like Riku's, but also erratic, almost scared.

Wondering what he could be scared of, Riku thoughtfully studies Yami's body language as his fingers trace the line of one collarbone. But through all of Riku's curious touches, Yami's expression doesn't change except for a flicker in his eyes, a subtle but definite sharpening of his gaze as Riku's hands start to skim lower.

His exploration is cut short, though, when Riku feels his pants being undone. Yami's knuckles brush against his abdomen as he works the fasteners open, and Riku's heart leaps back into his throat as the severity of the situation once again begins to sink in.

What is he doing? Even if they're both horny as hell... Even if, with each brush of Yami's hair against his bare chest, he feels a delightful little thrill... Even if Yami's fingers feel amazing as they slip into his pants and trace down his thigh, purposely missing what Riku really wants him to touch, despite how Riku tries arching towards his touch... Even if he wants this, there's something else...

Sora's cute grin and red cheeks drift before his eyes again, and without thinking, he pushes against Yami to get him to back off, his voice still thick with lust.

"Wait—stop—"

Yami doesn't buy it, of course, but he does pause, lifting an eyebrow at Riku. When Riku realizes that Yami might actually listen to him, his mind panics, because he doesn't want Yami to stop, not really, but—

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Yami gives a subtle smirk and continues. He uses the loops at the hips of Riku's pants to tug them down, easily slipping them off his legs and letting them fall to the floor. Riku holds his breath, eyes widening as Yami takes a moment to look at him fully, his gaze traveling from Riku's flushed face, along his tense shoulders, down his chest and abdomen to the swell of his hips, the tantalizing curve of his pelvic bone, down to his spread thighs and his erection.

Embarrassment can't cover what Riku feels in that moment—as Yami's lips curve almost approvingly at Riku's state of desire—because embarrassment means humiliation, and that's not what Riku feels. Something as simple as Yami's eyes, intense, heated, and fixated on him and only him, turns him on more than some of his caresses do. The only thing Riku finds embarrassing is the fact that Yami has such a strong affect on him, though that feeling quickly twists into more guilt. This is wrong, so why does he like it so much?

Riku tries protesting again, but his words are cut off before he even gets them out, a startled gasp escaping him instead as Yami's hand wraps around his dick. A delightful shudder runs up his body, betraying him, and though he wants nothing more for this to continue, he has to choke out a small objection, almost inaudible.

"S-Stop..."

"I know an empty plea when I hear one," Yami replies in a low, pointed tone. He shifts forward, his leather pants sliding against Riku's smooth thighs as he squeezes Riku's length and purposefully teases the head with his thumb. Riku chokes out a cry, eyes flashing wide open before squeezing shut as he arches upward in encouragement.

Sh-Shit! his mind screams, immediately falling back to a few hours ago with Sora in the library and Sora's hand on him, shy and curious and so unlike this.

"S-Stop!" he gasps, his fingers clutching at Yami's arms, but at the same time, he makes no move to escape Yami's grip, his desire keeping him rooted, but his fear and guilt feeding it, fueling it in an almost perverse way.

Like the time before, Yami does pause, his eyes meeting Riku's, and his lips quirk with amusement because Riku gives another frustrated sound when he realizes Yami has listened. Isn't Yami supposed to keep going despite what Riku says? But Riku is being teased, he realizes. Yami wants him to admit his submission, and Riku has to in order for this to continue. Bastard. His heart tears at the conflicting emotions running through him, of this desire he wants to gain satisfaction from, and of the guilt—he can't think about that one, not about what it would entail, so he pushes it away, not wanting to deal with it.

Clenching his jaw, Riku takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably against Yami as he tries to fight against this temptation... But as he glances down at Yami's hand on him, he can't resist.

A short nod is all it takes. Yami squeezes him again, stroking him firmly.

"Ahhn!"

Pleasure flares inside of him, making him writhe a little in the sheets as he throws his head back and thrusts his hips forward, his toes curling in the air. The shock of pleasure takes a few seconds to fade, and Sora vanishes from his mind again, there and gone again like lightning in a dark sky, illuminating the world for one brilliant, frightening moment, only to leave a lingering ghost in its place.

But then Yami releases him, almost indifferently, and Riku growls a disappointed, angry groan. Yami wordlessly leaves Riku on the bed, who tries relax, too on edge to even risk touching himself. His body is a jumble of tense muscles and jittery nerves, his heart and lungs refusing to calm down and his erection aching from the need for release.

Over the sound of his harsh breathing, he hears the shuffle of clothes, and he inclines his face to see where Yami has disappeared to. He is partially facing Riku, drawing his red-wine leather pants down the jut of his hips, past his toned thighs, and carefully over his own erection. Yami delicately picks up his feet to remove his clothing, and when he lifts his head, he catches Riku's stare.

Riku had seen plenty of Yami's body that one day in the bath, when Sora hadn't been looking, but here, with his defenses down and his senses tuned into everything Yami is doing, the older boy looks more than just alluring now. Riku has no words for the dangerous beauty that he sees here, the very thing he wants and is glad he hates. Desiring Yami is perfectly decadent.

Yami is an exquisite predator, his movements graceful and refined as he approaches the bed again, careful not to frighten, those amber eyes studying every tense and shift of Riku's body, no matter how minute. As he reaches the bedside, Riku begins to sit up, a real sense of fear filtering through him and heightening his excitement. He can still escape if he wants, but he doesn't, and this is what really frightens him, this and the growing ache inside of his heart that doesn't even feel like his own.

There is no in between. Just fear, just desire, a confusing and contradicting medley of emotions that somehow work for this. Though he worries about what is about to come, that want keeps him here, keeps him from drawing away from Yami when the older boy twists his hand in Riku's silver hair and roughly draws him forward.

Their kiss this time is with abandon, Riku pouring his anxieties into the strange dance, and even Yami seems desperate, though Riku can't fathom why or what he is thinking or why he is even doing this to Riku. Does it matter? Riku devours Yami's insecurities, if that's what they are, and lets them strengthen him. They feed off each other's passion, Riku allowing Yami complete control again, and Yami allowing Riku to touch him at last. Riku slips his hands into his long hair, his fingers tangling in the soft locks, gently tugging at them, and Yami moves forward, pushing him backwards, flat onto the mattress. This time, Riku is allowed to keep his hands in his hair.

Riku pulls Yami with him, not breaking the heated kiss, Yami's teeth catching on his lip a little too hard and cutting it, but the metallic taste of blood deters neither of them, the taste second to their fervor. Yami's tongue drags over the small cut, and Riku feels his heart quiver at the sensual act, and he thinks it could even be an apology if it Yami wasn't the one doing it. Hands skim down his body again, Yami's fingers gripping his hips for a second as he shifts closer to Riku, their erections brushing in a deliciously cruel tease, and the motion makes Riku stiffen with amazement, though brief.

Yami is enjoying this just as much as him, and the knowledge is intoxicating on its own, filling him with a deep sense of satisfaction. Just the thought of him being able to arouse Yami, who is always so guarded and mysterious, sparks courage within him. Riku lifts a leg, brushing his knee against Yami's hip, and releases an eager noise into Yami's mouth, letting it be known that he wants to be touched again.

Yami, however, has other plans. He pulls out of the kiss, somewhat breathless, his eyes scanning Riku's face as if searching for something, but Riku can hardly keep his eyes on him, his mind drowning in a sweltering sea of desire.

"Y-Yami..."

Eyes darkening, Yami moves forward without further hesitation and hooks an arm under Riku's leg, easily flipping him over. Riku releases a confused sound, starting to lift himself onto his elbows, but Yami's hand presses between his shoulder blades and shoves him back onto his stomach.

"Down," Yami says. His voice is no longer cello-like, but a low, rough key on a worn piano.

The sheets feel cold against the feverish skin of his chest and abdomen, his erection pressing painfully into the mattress, abandoned. He curls his hands into the silk sheets, rolling his shoulders back, tensing up, unsure of what Yami is planning.

Somehow the mystery only heightens his other emotions. It is like everything he has unconsciously feared about Yami—his commanding strength, his seductive presence, his manipulative character—is everything that Riku actually desires in him. The greater the risk, the more exciting he finds it. Hasn't he always been that way? And now Yami has him where he wants him, aroused and willing. Vulnerable.

He can't see Yami anymore, facing the clutter of pillows instead, but he can still feel Yami behind him, little shifts in the air current, a faint heat that grows as Yami draws near, slight dips of the mattress and tiny tugs on the sheets that Riku feels against his stomach. And he can still hear him, a whisper of long hair, soft breathing, and rustles of skin against silk. The sensations send his nerves on edge, his skin prickling with anticipation.

He flinches when it finally comes. Yami's warm fingers touch his spine, sending his heart racing again, and draw a thin line down the curve of his back, making it bow upward for attention like a cat. Then Yami leans forward, his smooth chest pressing against Riku's shoulder blades as his hair spills around them, tickling Riku's shoulders.

"On your knees, Riku."

A shiver runs down his back as Yami's breath brushes his ear, his sultry voice melting into him like warm caramel. He obeys without thinking, pushing himself up to draw his legs under him, but Yami's hand still presses against his spine to keep his chest down. Taking the hint, Riku lowers his arms, resting his burning face against the cool sheets, feeling completely exposed like this.

Yami doesn't make him wait long. Once Riku relaxes, Yami's hand slides up the arch of his back, past his tail bone, and right to his butt, making him tense again. Soon, both hands are on Riku, one of them slippery, coated with something—when had that happened?—but his thoughts scatter as a slick finger traces between his cheeks and presses right into him without warning. He clenches his jaw at the strange feeling, the digit working inside of him, and when Yami's nail accidentally grazes against his inner wall, he twitches in surprise. Whatever Yami is using as lube works well, his finger sliding effortlessly, but it leaves a chilly sensation. After a few seconds, Riku can even smell it—something heady but bittersweet, like medicine but not.

Riku finds himself clutching at a nearby pillow, his heart feeling like it will burst soon from beating so fast, his mind dizzy with all of the stimulation. When Yami's finger slips free, his hands cup his cheeks and spread them, his thumbs pressing against the sides of his entrance, opening it.

This is really happening...

But that realization doesn't scare him away, the fear fueling his excitement again, intensifying the need to experience this to the end. He can hardly believe how easily he's succumbing to Yami's whims, but then Yami touches him again, and everything feels right.

Yami's soft hair brushes the backs of Riku's thighs as he leans closer, and Riku first feels his breath against the small of his back, but then it begins to move lower, breezing against his slick entrance, chilling, making his spine tingle. He suddenly knows what Yami is about to do, and his eyes widen, but his breath catches in his throat before he can say anything.

Yami's tongue presses against the ring of muscle, drawing around it, and the smooth wetness and delicate precision of the touch ignites Riku's nerves, sending him into a near state of delirium, the strange pleasure making him want to pull away and arch against Yami at the same time. The tongue nudges into him, just a tease, and he groans into the pillow without thought, his fingernails tearing into the plush surface as he tries to keep from climaxing right there.

As if satisfied, Yami pulls up, replacing his tongue with his finger again, but this time two slide into him, pressing deeper and less carefully. His mouth falls open, a silent cry building inside of him, his throat working but nothing coming out. The slender digits move easily inside of him, scissoring and stretching him, rough in their haste. It doesn't hurt until the third one enters him, pulling the muscle past its limit too fast, the skin tearing slightly. That's all it really takes. The subtle burn quickly grows as Yami's fingers push harder, as if testing him, but he grits his teeth and only tenses, rolling his shoulders upward.

Even when Yami pulls his fingers out, the burn lingers, and he doesn't relax, his breath coming in scared gasps now. It's going to hurt, he knows, but not how much or if it will be worth it.

Then he feels it. It nudges against him, rigid and hot, and a sweaty hand clenches against his hip for balance. He squeezes his eyes shut, drawing in a shaky breath, taking a moment just to listen to his thundering heart and the thrum of darkness inside of him, pulsing and encompassing, poisoning—

Desire.

He rocks back against Yami's erection, letting their skin brush as the final consent.

Yami pushes into him without mercy, sinking almost completely into him, using the hand holding Riku to help guide Riku's hips backwards. It feels like Riku is being torn in half, the burn sharpening into an acute throbbing, wrenching a cry from him that sounds almost tortured. Yami doesn't even hesitate, his length pulling back only to plunge in deep again, piercing right to his core. This time he's filled completely, Yami's abdomen brushing against his back as he bends over Riku. Their thighs kiss as Yami shifts closer, each tiny movement sending another jolt of pain through him.

Then, almost apologetically, Yami's hand loosens on Riku's hip and caresses it, such an affectionate gesture, warm and soft, the complete opposite of the agony flaring up Riku's spine. Tears sting his eyes, his breath hitching again, but not to cry. Just the pain, he tells himself.

As if in response, Yami finds Riku's arousal, painfully sensitive by now, but the shock of his touch sends Riku bucking forward with a gasp, shivers of pleasure coursing through him, creating a frightfully wonderful blend of warring sensations. Yami's hips follow him, rolling forward and sinking back into him, but this time Riku rocks back, gritting out a groan at the pain but the friction of Yami's hand simultaneously sending his mind spiraling with euphoria.

Yami's fingers tighten against him, and he twitches again, gasping, his breath hot against the pillow. The next thrust is harder, sending his body shifting forward with Yami's momentum, his arms trembling and his hands twisting in the sheets, but with Yami touching him, teasing him, stroking him into ecstasy, the pain blurs, becoming its own unique indulgence.

The pace begins to build, slowly speeding up but rapidly growing fierce, Yami driving into him with a quiet desperation that actually relaxes Riku, something about the force behind their union unwinding Riku's nerves. He buries his face in the pillow he's clutching, a feverish shudder working through him, and he loses himself to the profound heat and passion, unfolding one layer of his heart.

And there, their bodies move as a duet, rising and descending with the rhythm together, and Riku feels everything fall silent, his senses slipping away like sand through fingers, drifting and leaving him hollow and complete at the same time. The pound of his heart, a soundless drum. Yami's gasps, just gusts of air against his damp shoulder blades. The subtle slap of skin against skin and the rustle of their bodies against the sheets—gone, now voiceless echoes, everything reduced to a hush. In that silence, Riku feels a sudden ache, deeper than any pain Yami has just inflicted him, deeper than anything he's ever felt before, gnawing and overwhelming at the same time, leaving him breathless and astray.

Who are you?

Then it all comes crashing in as Yami hits something inside of him. A shower of light goes off behind his eyelids as his body is consumed by pure euphoria, sound swallowing him at the same time, right as he screams, shoving himself into Yami's hand and spilling onto the sheets. But Yami doesn't let him revel in the intense elation that follows his climax, and he finds himself crying into the pillow as Yami's thrusts turn violent, pushing him right into the mattress, his entire body trembling with emotion and wave after wave of pleasure as Yami continuously hits that same spot inside of him.

Riku can do nothing except clutch the sheets below him and pray this doesn't kill him, his breath coming in hoarse gasps now, his hair pooled around him like wet, silver ribbons. Behind him, Yami is holding back groans, he can tell, and from the way his hand digs into Riku's hip and his arm quivers like a taut string, Riku can also tell that Yami doesn't want to do it like this.

But it's too late.

Riku feels tears dampen his pillow, though he's not sure where they come from, and he tries to ignore the lingering ache inside of him and the cold whisper of Who are you that seems to circle his consciousness. He wants to drown in Yami's passion, in this little death he's experiencing as his heart wrenches with a pleasure so fierce it scares him. But as Yami gives one last powerful plunge and finally finds his own release, Riku can't help shuddering as he feels liquid warmth fill him, Yami's essence. His own is dotting the sheets under him, evidence that stains his mind. It's over now.

Yami's hair sticks to his damp back as he leans in, pressing a very soft kiss to his back, and pulls out of him with a slick sound. Pulse still racing, Riku starts to lower himself fully onto his stomach, his muscles already screaming from being in that position for so long. He must have released a faint whimper then, for he feels Yami's warm hand rest on his hip again, caressing it as if to allay the pain.

Riku relaxes at the gentle touch, letting it comfort him after all that has been done to him, and that's when he hears it. Yami releases a sigh that sounds relieved, but Riku has a feeling it has to do with far more than just the culmination of their bodies. He doesn't ask. He isn't even sure his voice will work if he tries.

Instead, he curls his arms around his damp pillow, and listens and feels as Yami lies beside him, his every nerve still sensitive and alert toward Yami's movements. At first, nothing happens between them, just a quiet acknowledgement of what they have just done, which gradually grows into an uncomfortable tension as Riku wonders if it's wrong for him to want to be held after what he has just done.

He tries not to think about it.

Closing his eyes, he bites his lip and tries not to think about Sora.

Almost immediately after that moment of insecurity, he feels Yami's arm slip around his waist and a hand rest against the curve of his butt, a comfortable weight, and then he's being drawn closer to the older boy's body. A hand slips through Riku's wet hair, pushing it out of his face, and in return, Riku rests his cheek against Yami's bicep and hesitantly drapes an arm over Yami's abdomen.

There, in a foreign bed but an embrace he just may trust, Riku's mind and body finally find a semblance of peace with a man he still hates. And somehow, he knows this is only the beginning.

Somewhere, the wails of a forgotten boy go unheard.

-o-o-

And so it goes...