Fan Fiction ❯ Wings ❯ Solitude ( Chapter 5 )

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people or places featured in this fic. Any technical details are pure speculation.

Note to continuing readers: I have updated the warnings slightly. I felt so bad for leaving Riku hanging last time. ^_~

I'd also like to thank everyone who has reviewed this fic. I haven't felt this inspired in a long time. “Kink” - I'm glad that Seph's “pouncing” is working. I somehow can't imagine a different approach for him.

 

Chapter 5

 

Riku stood on the terrace, watching Sephiroth disappear into the night. His breathing slowly eased and he felt a little steadier on his feet. His heart, though - there was a sweet aching as the wind streamed past him and lifted the dark wing far above. Only when the building blocked his view did he make his way back to the solidity of his room.

He crossed the darkened floor to the bathroom, grabbing the lit candle lantern off of the desk on the way. His heart still pounded wildly, drowning out any coherent thoughts. His senses conspired to keep him off balance. Every sound seemed magnified in the quiet room, and he kept expecting a soft brush of wing or coat. His fingers still tingled with the memory of the fluidly supple leather. His own clothes seemed coarse by comparison.

Riku was suddenly aware that two days of exertion and adrenaline weren't helping that situation. He lifted the candle lantern to illuminate the bathroom. To his surprise, the expected bathtub featured an actual shower. He wasn't sure how advanced this amenity was, but right now he'd be satisfied with water of any temperature.

Wrinkling his nose at the state of his outfit, Riku stripped off his shirt. Despite years of fighting Heartless, he'd managed to escape any injury that couldn't be nearly erased by the Healing that was available, and the thin tracery of claw marks was barely visible in the flickering light. He kicked off shoes that had somehow survived long enough to get him here, though he doubted that they'd last much longer. As he eased his waistband down over his hips, he started to hope that the water would be cold.

Before Ansem had lured him into the Darkness, Riku was just becoming aware of the hormones flooding his body. He'd heard enough coarse comments from Ansem's human minions to have some idea of what was going on. While he was imprisoned, however, there was never any chance for normalcy. Respites in the fighting were split into watches, and any relief that he had was accomplished with care to avoid any noises that might attract the attention of the enemy. Or his ally.

The shower was a simple construct, a simple valve bridging a spray head and a pipe that disappeared into the ceiling. “Hot” and “Cold” didn't seem to be options. Bracing himself, Riku wrenched the valve open. To his surprise, the water wasn't painfully cold. In fact, he'd been in ocean water that was colder. Unfortunately, while it served to wash away two days' worth of exertion, it did nothing to abate his body's response to Sephiroth's embrace. With a sigh of frustration, he shut off the water and towelled off.

Resigned to another restless night, Riku staggered over to the bed, his fingers weaving a quick braid into his wet hair. He let the towel fall from around his waist and crawled under the covers, hissing as the cool sheets settled over too-sensitive skin. Every position that he tried only managed to focus his attention to the one place he was trying to ignore. Before long, he knew that he had only one way to get some sleep.

For a while, he stared up at the arched ceiling as his hand moved steadily up his thigh. Ocean-blue eyes drifted shut as practiced fingers stroked his length, seeking out the well-explored sensitivities. A soft moan escaped him, restrained by instinct learned behind the World Door. Riku's thumb slid through a drop of moisture and he shuddered as the friction changed. His tongue moved across lips that were suddenly too dry and raised memories of Sephiroth's tongue exploring his mouth.

“There was a reason you were drawn here, to this world, this terrace.”

His fingers moved faster, and he strove to picture the anonymous adolescent fantasies that had sustained him over the past years. Adoring eyes, soft curves, short skirts...

“You told me the same things you tell yourself, thinking that I'd believe them more than you do.”

His free hand reached between his legs, caressing skin that was tight with the need for release.

“You feel it in your blood, don't you.”

His pulse pounded in his ears and under his fingers as he teetered on the edge of fulfillment. His body strained between control and surrender, trembling as the balance slowly shifted.

“The Keyblade can only be controlled by a Keyblade Master.”

Control fragmented and another low moan echoed the shuddering in his spine as release finally claimed him. He snaked one hand out from the sheets to retrieve the towel. He wiped his hands and stomach, then curled around his pillow, pretending for a moment that he wasn't sleeping alone in a borrowed room. But the image that followed him into the soundest sleep he'd had in years was a drift of moonlight hair framing a pair of hypnotic, bottomless eyes.

 

OK, this was longer than I thought it would be...^_^> I'm hoping this sounds alright, because A) it's the first time I've written a solo scene and B) I wrote it between 1 and 2 AM. ::dies:: Not to fear, Sephiroth will be showing up next chapter and things are going to stay steamy.