—Possession—

-o-o-

He's mine…

Years of friendship, of laughter stealing the ocean breeze, of rolling and tickling and pushing each other into the warm sand—years of shared smiles and silly secrets, of stupid dares and the most memorable pranks and getting in trouble together—years of comfort through sadness, of grins through tears and ruffling each other's hair and promising it'll all get better…

Years of friendship could not have predicted this. This. This piece of heaven.

A grateful moan escapes him as he pushes into Sora—Sora, who is laying so still, so obedient, one arm pinned beneath Riku's hand and unmoving. His young face is turned the other way, painted red and pretty, and his chest rises and falls so quickly with excited gasps. His legs are spread wide around Riku, who waits a moment to revel in the tight heat of Sora's body.

Oh yes, this is heaven. The cute, muffled whimper that issues from Sora's throat only encourages Riku, the simple noise a sharp thrill to such a clouded mind, escalating his desire for the boy so willingly stretched out before him.

Curling fingers into Sora's hip, Riku braces himself and pushes in again, body trembling with pleasure and anticipation and sweet, sweet happiness—a kind of joy that he hasn't felt since home. His heart swells with love as he feels Sora's breath hitch.

"R-Ri…ku…"

His voice is so small, so hoarse. Riku loves it. Riku cherishes it. Riku wants to hear it again.

He arches over the other boy, sliding a hand down to grip one of Sora's firm thighs, lifting it up and opening Sora more, and then he thrusts in again, this time harder, deeper, feeling the shudder that courses through the lithe body beneath him.

"R-Riku…" is the response, a choked sob. "Why…"

He's mine…

Years of rivalry, of childish war cries ringing loud in the air, of tackling and wrestling and shoving each other into the cool surf—years of shared smirks and accepting challenges, of dangerous games and the most memorable wins and losses and still getting in trouble together—years of scraped knees, of half apologies and stifled laughter and poking each other and promising to kiss it better…

Years of rivalry could not have predicted this. This. This unforgivable, selfish act.

That arm that was pinned beneath Riku's hand—it was broken, twisted at an unnatural angle, the bone clearly visible under the skin, and Sora's trembling and whimpering were probably because of the pain. Riku would not let him go though, not now. It was too late.

That red that painted Sora's cheeks—it was blood, crimson smeared with salty tears, staining his skin and hair and shredded clothes that were scattered around them. The blood came from Sora's split lip and the cuts along his body where Riku's weapon had nicked him during their previous fight, the weapon that was now pushed through the skin and tissue of Sora's other hand, and into the cold floor of the castle, keeping that hand out of the way as well.

The excited gasps that moved Sora's body—they were the panicked kind of excited, scared and horrified and full of disbelief and the utmost sadness because Sora knew this wasn't his Riku, this betrayal couldn't be real, that this pain he was feeling was just an illusion and he'd wake up somewhere in Traverse Town—or better yet, at home—and find out he was safe… Safe…

But it was his Riku. This was real.

And Riku's emotion was all too real as he groaned, continuing his cruel pace as he drove into Sora's torn body, blind to Sora's pain and fear. He was lost in Sora's exquisite heat, his silver bangs shrouding the strange gleam in his eyes as he pushed in again and again and again. Sora was not moving because he could not.

Both boys were crying.

"Sora…"

Another strangled sob.

He's mine...

Years of love, of shy giggles under the blankets, of snuggling and holding and falling asleep together in the other's bed—years of shy glances and maybe crushes, of curious touches under the stars and the most memorable sunrises and once again getting in trouble together—years of embarrassing moments, of growing bodies and blushes and pretending not to notice and promising they'll be together forever…

Years of love has all amounted to this. This. This whatever it is.

Riku wants to love him completely, to have all of him to himself, so much that it hurts. So much that he wants to hurt. Hurt Sora. To take him and squeeze him to death, to drive into him like this forever, to worship every scar and vein in his body, inside and out, and somehow make Sora a part of him for eternity.

Sora looks so pale now as he lays there, covered in a cold sweat and a distant, hollowed look in his eyes. His breath is shallow, ragged, a pathetic unconscious act that actually keeps him conscious. Weakly, his broken arm twitches and another tremble shakes Sora's small frame, more tears slipping down his bloody cheeks as Riku finishes with a satisfied groan and something hot and gross spills into his worn body.

Something inside of Sora faintly stirs—fear? hope?—as Riku releases his leg and, after a long moment of silence, he sighs and pulls out of Sora. His knee drops lifelessly to the side, a painful angle, but Sora has no strength to move it. He does and says nothing as his Riku leans close, damp silver hair tickling his cheek as Riku's hot tongue drags up his jaw, tasting salty and metallic red. He does not fight as Riku pushes into his mouth, ravishing that warm orifice as well, sucking and biting and still raping with the utmost love.

And when he pulls away, blood trailing in their saliva, Riku gives a soft, affectionate whisper.

"You're mine… and always will be."