Jukebox Hound (jukeboxhound) wrote,
Jukebox Hound

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fic: inspired curiosity (kh)

Inspired Curiosity
Written 15 September 2006

Warning for...well, PWP.  XD

Sora decided he rather liked Riku’s bedroom. It was relatively spacious and the walls were a creamy color that looked warm against the solitary light of the desk lamp, and the furniture was of dark wood that was masculine and simple without losing a sense of style. Everything was neat and ordered in a way that Sora’s own bedroom—messy, cluttered, and generally chaotic—could never be.

The best part, though, was the window. It was rectangular like any other window in any other room, but the sill was just wide enough for two not-quite-adults to sit comfortably beside one another with their legs dangling against the side of the house, watching the apex of the sun finally slip below the edge of the ocean.

Sora absently flicked at a tiny black flying thing that had landed on his bare shin just below the hem of his dark shorts, for although it was just past sunset the air was still warm and heavy from the weight of the tropical sun. He leaned forward a little on his hands, braced against the wood of the sill, until his shoulders slumped and the crown-shaped pendant of his necklace clinked quietly against its chain. Riku was a comfortable and familiar warmth at his side in the growing darkness.

“It’s all your fault, you know,” he said suddenly, a note of amusement in his voice, and felt Riku stiffen.

“What is?”

“You said Santa Claus didn’t exist.” Sora did not need to turn around to know that Riku’s expression would one of mild bemusement.

“He doesn’t.”

“Does too. We met him, Donald and Goofy and me.”

“And I,” Riku corrected automatically. “And when did this happen?”

“Remember, when I told you about Halloween Town?”

“Yeah, it was about Halloween. Santa doesn’t exist.”

Sora tilted his head to look at Riku challengingly. “Why not?”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” the older boy snorted derisively. “Some fat guy spends a whole year, every year, making presents for all these kids and somehow manages to deliver them all in one night? Come on.”

“Kinda like a mouse becoming a king of, well, everything?” Sora rebutted with a grin. Riku canted him a dry glance.

“Totally different.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes it is, you three-year-old.”

Sora stuck out his tongue.



They grinned at each other, and a comfortable silence settled over them.

But now Sora’s mind was fondly mulling over Halloween Town, which made him think of that kick-ass vampire outfit his clothes had morphed into (and that had been a weird feeling, a little ticklish and a lot awkward as his clothes felt like snakes wriggling into new shapes), and that train of thought derailed when it came upon a minor dilemma.

“Ne, Riku, I wonder what you’d be in Halloween Town.”


“Like a zombie or a mummy or something. I think you were a ninja one year.”

“Well, yeah, ninjas are way cooler than pirates,” Riku scoffed, remembering a young Sora in too-big pantaloons and a bandanna slipping over his eyes.

“You broke your foot trying to side-kick a streetlamp,” Sora offered with a bright smile. “Besides, pirates are so much harder to kill than ninjas.”

“You ever fought any ninjas?” the older boy asked archly.

No, but I fought a whole crew of flesh-eating zombie-pirates that wanted to eat me.”

“So how do you know pirates are harder to kill if you’ve never fought a ninja?”

“Does Marluxia count?” Sora asked thoughtfully. He thumped the heels of his bare feet against the side of the house.

Riku leaned back on his hands as much as the windowsill would allow and raised a slender brow. “His scythe was pink.”

“He was an assassin,” Sora argued. “That’s kinda like a ninja.”

“His element was flower.”

“He nearly overthrew Organization XIII,” the brunette pointed out, and Riku had to acknowledge the truth of the statement. “I mean, no, he wasn’t as scary as Sephiroth or someone, but he was really mean.

Riku snorted softly, thinking that in the end none of the Nobodies had really been anything approaching kind and altruistic, no matter how they acted; except maybe Axel—Riku could not forget that the Flame Dancer had given his life for Sora, even if his whole non-life before that had been spent trying to replace Sora.

Sora hummed contentedly under his breath as he idly poked at Riku’s ribs.

“Oi, what the hell was that for?” The silver-haired boy caught the invasive hands and pinned them to the sill.

Sora grinned again. “Ri-ku, lemme go!”

“No, you’ll poke me again.”

“So? I’m your best friend, and as such I have exclusive poking rights.”

Riku looked amused. “Since when?”

“Since you told me Santa doesn’t exist and I proved you wrong,” the brunette quipped.

“How could you’ve proved me wrong if you were the only one that saw him?”

“Donald and Goofy did too!” Sora mock-pouted, sticking out his tongue once more. Riku laughed aloud and tried not to think about how much he had missed this.

“I think you were just distracted by thinking about Kairi,” he sing-songed teasingly, rewarded with a brilliant flush spreading over his friend’s nose and cheeks.

No, I was looking for you,” Sora stressed, fighting away his embarrassment and pulling his hands from Riku’s so he could bump their shoulders together. His grin became a more solemn little smile as he said quietly, “And, you know. I’m glad I did.”

Riku looked down at his hands and imagined that he could still smell the Darkness fouling his skin.

“…Me too,” he said after a long minute, and leaned a bit more firmly against the smaller boy at his side.

He would be seventeen soon and though she had not said anything, Sora wondered if Kairi, now that she had been mentioned, liked him like that. They had never so much as kissed and had never even tried. At least he had not been as distracted as Sephiroth, since he had been mentioned too, and speaking of whom—

“Ne, Riku,” Sora said slowly, and Riku recognized the ‘I’m-going-to-ask-you-a-humiliating-question-again’ voice. He braced himself for nuclear fallout, but figured that nothing could be worse than when they had been twelve and thirteen and Riku was convinced he had known everything since he was now a teenager, and Sora had asked him what the difference between boys and girls was. Or maybe the time Sora had asked if the acronym for sadism-and-masochism had been another type of candy, like M&Ms; or when they had managed to find a certain book in Riku’s parents’ bedroom called Kama-something and learned a few things about the flexibility of the human body.

So he forced himself to remain calm when he heard, “How do two guys have sex?”

“Sora,” he said slowly, “sometimes I’m terrified by the way your mind works.”

“What? I’m serious.”

“That’s what’s so scary.”

Sora had long ago grown immune to Riku’s sarcastic asides. “”I was wondering because I was thinking about Sephiroth, and then you mentioned Kairi and I was so not distracted but Sephiroth was because him and Cloud were in the Coliseum baths—“

He and Cloud,” Riku corrected without thought, then said blankly, “So what if he and Cloud were in the baths? The Greeks weren’t exactly self-conscious. And yeah, it’s kind of strange to take a bath with someone you keep trying to kill, but…” Then again, Riku had seen a lot of strange things before coming back to Destiny Islands mere months ago. If Cloud, whom he had never met but heard plenty about, liked that sort of thing, then who was he to judge?

“But he had Cloud pinned against the wall, and at first I thought he was trying to strangle him or something, but, uh…he wasn’t,” Sora finished lamely, putting a hand behind his head in his chagrin.

“And you were fourteen?” Riku had heard many stories about this Cloud and Sephiroth’s inhuman fighting abilities, but at that moment if he had still been able to use the Darkness no amount of Heartless or long silver hair would have been able to stop him.

“Well, I didn’t figure it out ‘til later,” Sora muttered defensively, kicking with his heels again. The warm night air was pleasant against his bare shins. “And then I kinda forgot about it.”

Still Riku brooded.


Riku looked at the brunette quizzically. “So, what?”

“How do two guys have sex?”

“How should I know?”

“Are you saying you don’t?”

Oh, Sora had gotten good at this game. At one point he would have simply given up and begged Riku to tell him, who would then taunt and tease until he finally took mercy on the younger boy.

“No, I’m saying that I didn’t exactly have the chance to stop and find out for myself.” He stopped. Blinked. “That didn’t come out right.”

Sora was laughing.

“But seriously,” the brunette said when he caught his breath, “guys don’t have…what girls do. How can—how is it possible?”

Riku’s first reaction was to pass the question off as a crude joke and forget about it, but the gauntlet had been thrown and the challenge declared. Besides, a part of him was wondering the same thing, now that so much attention had been brought to it.

He could guess the basics. He was seventeen, after all, nearly eighteen, and it always seemed that whether one wanted it or not a general knowledge of sex seemed to come with the age. For instance, he understood the definition of the word vore even though he had never seen or done it and for the life of him could not imagine where he might have picked up that little bit of knowledge. (Unless it had been from Saix; the man was certainly sadistic enough to get his rocks off on flesh-consuming violence.)

“Well,” he started, and shifted a little uncomfortably. “I think it involves one guy’s dick in the other’s…ass.”

Sora stared at him, feet no longer tapping a staccato beat on the side of the house, and then his face screwed up in an expression of disgust. “Ew, Riku! That’s gross!”

Riku agreed wholeheartedly.

“Wouldn’t that hurt? Or be like…really uncomfortable?”

The older boy mentally rifled through the meager understanding he had of the subject.

“No, they use some sort of lubrication. And if it really hurt that much then people wouldn’t do it, right?” he guessed logically, feeling like he was floundering in the dark. Figuratively speaking, of course.

“I guess,” Sora said doubtfully. “Cloud didn’t seem to mind all that much.”

Riku’s thoughts turned vengeful on Sora’s behalf at the reminder of the man he had never met. So vengeful and dark they had become, as a matter of fact, that he nearly missed what the other did next.

“…Uh, Sora?”

Sora pulled away from Riku with a contemplative expression, twisting his body so that he was still leaning forward on his hands.


“…You just kissed me.” Perhaps Riku’s calm was best explained by the fact that his brain was absolutely floored.


There was an awkward pause.

“Well, I wanted to know what it was like,” Sora explained simply.

“…And?” Riku managed after a moment.

“You’re all salty and your lips are chapped.”

“We were at the beach today,” was the sour reply.

“Where you tossed me in,” Sora muttered. He had been forced to change his clothes before they became too stiff to move in, and so wore his old faded blue shorts and a loose white shirt, but not before he had managed to grab Riku’s ankle as he toppled over the dock to pull his assailant down with him into the ocean. Kairi had nearly hurt herself laughing.

Riku tilted his head so that his too-long bangs hid his face and his small smile.

“Well, maybe we should try again.” Because it was not really fair if only Sora was doing all the wondering, and besides, it only gave one-sided results. A proper experiment had to consider all possible influential factors to produce reliable data, after all. Riku shifted so that he was straddling the windowsill, one leg pressed against the outside of the house and the opposite socked foot resting flat on his bedroom floor, facing Sora.

“I’ve never done this before,” the brunette commented.

“You just did.”

Sora crossed his arms and gave Riku a mild glare. “You know what I mean, Riku.”

“What, you think I went around kissing all the Heartless and Nobodies?”

Both spared a moment to ponder over, and then gag, at that particular mental image.

“Just don’t make fun of me,” Sora said with only a little nervousness, and Riku felt a pang of shame somewhere in his chest that the other boy felt he even had to say so at all.

Riku murmured seriously, “Not anymore, Sora. I won’t do anything to betray your trust again.”

With a quiet little sigh Sora moved so that he mirrored Riku’s position, their bony knees touching, and slung one arm loosely behind Riku’s neck to pull him closer and press their foreheads and noses together. He closed his eyes and gave a slight, lopsided smile.

“I know.”

When they were kids Riku had thought he was the best, that he had to be. Nowadays, he wondered how he could have missed the cheerful but quiet strength in the other boy and what good he could have possibly done to deserve such unconditional friendship and faith.

Then Sora’s hands were on either side of his face and Sora’s lips were pressing against his so carefully and so gently that Riku unconsciously leaned forward, and when Sora pulled away the older boy buried his face in the brunette’s neck and rested his hands on narrow hips.


He decided Sora smelled just the way he should—like shampoo and salt-water and warm sand. He did not answer, content to stay where he was and remember the half-forgotten scent of days when the scariest monster they could imagine was the one under the bed.

Soon, thin but lean arms wrapped themselves loosely about his shoulders and a sharp chin rested lightly on top of his head. Riku could feel Sora’s slow, steady breathing and the strong pulse beneath the skin his lips nearly touched, and with piqued curiosity he ran his tongue over the hollow of Sora’s throat.

The other boy, for his part, nearly had a conniption and could not suppress his soprano squawk of surprise. Riku sat back and snickered at Sora’s embarrassed expression.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Well, Sora mused, it had not been entirely unpleasant. Just…weird. What kind of person went around licking other people? It took him a moment to come to the conclusion that if Riku wanted to lick him again, then maybe it was not so weird after all.

Of course, that implied he wanted Riku to do it again. Did he?

Being a person of impulse rather than careful calculation, Sora slid off the windowsill to stand on the thick white carpet and hold out his hands to Riku, who watched him with no little confusion.

“Sora, what—“


Riku slowly got to his feet, curling his sock-covered toes into the carpet and taking his hands from his jean pockets to grasp Sora’s. He was tugged forward until he was standing very close to the other boy, and realized belatedly that Sora was now tall enough for his nose to reach Riku’s chin. Then he forgot the revelation when the brunette tilted his head and kissed him again.

It was sloppy and neither was really sure what to do, but the warmth and the closeness of their breaths were rather nice and Riku certainly would not mind it if they never moved away. Weapon-calloused hands came to rest on thin hips, and soon they were pressed chest-to-chest.

But he remembered the reaction he got when he used his tongue last time, so Riku parted his lips and ran it lightly over Sora’s lips. He felt the other tense at the unexpected step, but then Sora opened his mouth a little and tentatively returned it, and suddenly Riku was much more aware of the other boy’s weight against him.

Sora tasted like…Sora. There was a slight hint of the chocolate cake he and Riku had filched from the kitchen earlier that evening when Riku’s mother had looked away, but otherwise nothing except what Riku could only describe as distinctly Sora (despite the fact he had never kissed anyone else and so had no real basis for comparison).

Encouraged, Sora’s sun-browned fingers slid over denim-covered hips and beneath the sleeveless shirt to brush over surprisingly warm, soft skin just below Riku’s ribs. He felt Riku shiver against him and grinned into their kiss, earning a retaliatory poke in his own hipbone.

His fingers slid over lean muscle, pausing near the small of Riku’s back and kneading the skin like a purring cat, then skipping lightly over the hard bumps of vertebrae to splay over the scapulae. Riku pressed more closely and Sora could feel his warmth through their shirts, and it reminded him of the time he had fallen from their little boat far from the island and had had to be fished back out. The long sail back to the beach had left him cold and shaking miserably before long, and Kairi held the tiller while Riku used a large beach towel to wrap them together and share heat. They had huddled in the bottom of the boat, Sora wedging himself as tightly as he could against Riku to try and chase away the chills.

In a flash of sudden inspiration, Sora pulled away sharply and swiftly yanked the black shirt up and over Riku’s head, leaving the taller boy looking somewhat blindsided in nothing more than jeans and socks.

“Uh, Sora?”

Sora had seen his best friend in varying states of undress over the years—they used to bathe together as kids, after all—and had never thought twice about it. Current context, however, was giving him a whole new perspective, and Sora blushed when his brain caught up.

“Um,” he started, intelligence deflated by his awkwardness, “you were warm?”

Riku tilted his head.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he shrugged, and was distracted by the sight of a long, thin scar that meandered lazily along Riku’s left side. The battle with Xemnas, Sora remembered, had left Riku with a limp that had not disappeared until nearly a month after they had returned to the Islands, but he had not realized the hit had been severe enough to leave such a mark. Stepping forward again, he touched the scar lightly with one hand and draped the other arm over Riku’s shoulder, pressing their cheeks together.

Riku tried not to flinch when gentle fingers trailed over his side, but reminded himself that this was Sora, the person he had taken the wound for. He was not ashamed of it, because if it was on his own skin then Sora had to suffer that much less, but merely unused to having other people so close without murderous intent. The silver crown necklace was cool against his flesh.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” he said, quietly amused, into the soft hair just over Sora’s ear as his hands worked themselves under white cloth.

“M’kay,” the brunette hummed agreeably, evidently content to stay where he was, but Riku took it upon himself to even out the playing field.

Gently pushing Sora to arms’ length he tugged the plain white shirt, streaked with dirt from an impromptu wrestling match in the garden earlier that evening, over a spiky brown head and let it drop to the floor next to his own shirt. Sora’s trademark necklace jingled cheerily as it fell back against a chest that was thin but strong and browned from the sun, his shoulders a little darker than the rest of him, and the traces of baby fat he once had were gone.

When they were once more skin-to-skin and practicing their lip technique, Riku decided that perhaps Sora’s spontaneous ideas had some merit after all.

His touch wandering again, Sora’s fingertips began testing to see what made Riku shiver, or twitch, and really it was just like fighting a battle and judging an opponent’s reactions where no one actually lost in the end.

“Sora, that tickles,” Riku murmured, voice lower than usual, and the note of petulance the brunette could swear he heard just made him smile. He dug his fingertips more firmly against bony ribs and Riku squirmed with a bark of shocked laughter that quickly turned into a predatory growl.

“That was not cool,” and the older boy bodily picked up Sora and dumped him in a grinning heap on the bed, but when he tried to reach Sora’s own ribs a brief tussle ensued.

“I win,” Sora declared proudly, breathing a little more heavily than usual, sitting on Riku’s waist and pinning his shoulders to the mattress.

“You cheated,” Riku pretended to sulk, huffing to blow the silver hair from his eyes.

“Did not.”

“Did too. You used an underhanded trick to catch me off guard.”

“Didn’t you once tell me to exploit every weakness of the opposition?” Sora retorted impudently, lifting his hands to move dangerously close to Riku’s ribs again.

Riku looked at him oddly. “Do you remember everything I’ve ever said?”

The brunette’s brows pulled together into a small frown. “Of course not. It’s not like I can remember almost seventeen years’ worth of conversation. Well, more like fifteen or sixteen, since we didn’t actually started talking until we were like one or two.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean…” Riku struggled to find the words, seemingly unaware that another boy was still sitting firmly on top of him. “I mean, just little things. Like the weakness thing. And Santa Claus. And…I don’t even know what else.”

“Well, duh,” Sora said in the tone that told Riku he was being pretty stupid. “You’re my best friend.”

It was such a simple and straightforward statement that Riku stared at him, at his small nose and dark lashes and the few bruises on his sharp shins (because even being a Keyblade Master he was still clumsy at times), and wondered how someone that had cut out his own heart to save a friend and sacrificed more than that for another—someone that had seen betrayal and death and, quite literally, the tar-like blackness that lived in people’s souls—could still believe in such simple and profound truths.

Riku sat up, forcing Sora to sit back on his thighs, and pulled the smaller boy into an embrace that nearly left them both suffocated.

“You’re extraordinary,” he whispered and knew without looking that Sora would be flushing and smiling goofily. But even if Sora would believe anything Riku said except that, the older boy knew that it was probably one of the few things he had ever been truly right about.

“Nah,” Sora said quietly, threading his fingers through long silver hair. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Riku shook his head and leaned back far enough to be able to look Sora in the eye. “No,” he rebutted softly, “if you really were anyone else, I’d have socked you by now.”

Part 2

Tags: - fic, f: kingdom hearts, p: riku/sora
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