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Riku knelt on the floor in front of Sora, his collar held neatly between his teeth. The thick leather strap already had dozens of tiny impressions from where he’d presented it to Sora in their usual agreed-upon way. He was wearing one of his basic white t-shirts and a pair of briefs, nothing fancy– bells and whistles weren’t important.
Sora smiled down from where he sat in a chair, also in his underwear. He was fine with sticking to the basics; just their bodies, their love, and the impact implements he’d brought, of course. And what better place for this kind of thing than tucked away in their favorite little private cabin on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Corona?
The royal city felt like the kind of place they could settle into, that would cradle them safely until they were ready to go out into the world again. Between its noble architecture and fairytale forests, they were never bored. If they got tired of wandering through the endless street festivals, the magical landscape beyond beckoned them– ripe for exploration. When they were tired, they always found a cozy place to stay where they could feel like they were away from it all, just for a little while.
But this time wasn’t just any vacation. They were here to deal with what happened.
Riku had fucked up.
He could only rationalize it as resulting from a mixture of boredom, overconfidence, and the reintroduction of his greatest weakness, Ansem.
It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being tempted– he knew he could be tempted, that was something he’d learned to live with.
Once, when Namine had offered to lock the Heartless away “deep inside,” he’d declined. It was better to face the enemy head-on rather than be surprised by him lurking in the shadows. Ansem was already too deep inside to ever truly go away anyway. Besides, that’s exactly the kind of thing that always backfires. Better to accept that he was still weak to Ansem, and always would be.
Riku knew in his heart, his soul, whatever he could identify as the very foundational core of his being, that his destiny didn’t lie with Ansem. It lay with his friends. Sora, Kairi, Mickey, and all the other warriors of light. These were the people who truly loved him, and whom he loved in return.
Therefore, the thought of Ansem wresting back any kind of control after all this time was practically laughable. So he’d put the issue to rest, knowing confidently that he could face Ansem if and when he manifested again (because really, it was only a matter of time).
Only in hindsight did he see the flaw in his plan– by wholeheartedly accepting that it would forever lay unresolved, he’d come to more or less forget about it.
Now, he couldn’t help wondering if he should’ve accepted Namine’s proposition after all.
Sora hummed with approval as he took the collar from Riku, who sat back on his heels to look up at him. They’d already talked things through, but there was still an uneasy tension hanging between them.
He loved Riku. All of him, even the sharp edges and parts that lashed out and hurt him sometimes. Being with Riku was like being home. But everyone knows that a home needs work and attention, and sometimes cobwebs build up in the dark corners before you realize it.
Sora didn’t like to dwell on the past, but he couldn’t help ruminating just a little.
He'd been hurt and angry when he found Riku with Ansem again. Furious, even. After all this time they’d been together building what felt like an unbreakable trust, he supposed he’d been lulled into a little bit of a false sense of security. Especially now, when they were at a place where they felt more solid than ever. But now that he stopped to think about it he supposed the timing kind of made sense. He’d thought that nothing could come between them, and so it was really the perfect time for Ansem to catch them off guard– which was exactly what happened.
In his lover’s eyes, Sora saw a storm of emotions– humility, lust, grief, and love all played across his countenance like scattered seaglass. Some pieces were worn from years of being tossed in the waves, while others were sharp and raw, the shards newly broken.
This was a wound for sure, and it would take time and care to heal, but Sora was confident that heal it would. It was obvious that Riku was desperately sorry and wanted to make things right. That’s what really mattered.
Riku hoped that a feeling of resolution would be achieved through the physical power exchange they were about to enact, but Sora still looked like he needed to say something.
“I guess I got pretty comfortable with the way things were. This was a little bit of a reality check,” Sora said.
Riku was awash with shame all over again at Sora’s frankness. “It surprised me too, I thought I was different now…” His voice cracked and he dropped his eyes, but Sora tilted his chin back up.
“Hey, it’s okay. I still love you,” he said, with a reassuring but stern smile, “and I always will.”
Riku looked into Sora's eyes and tried to silently express all his regret and earnest desire to repent. “It scared me,” Riku admitted, “how easily he…” He couldn't finish ‘manipulated me’ because blaming it all on Ansem felt dishonest.
Disgust slithered over him like cold, wet tentacles as he remembered, threatening to yank him back down into the dark water. He loathed himself for letting his guard down and hated how easily Ansem had unlocked his heart again, all while he kept telling himself it was fine, that he had the situation under control.
He was so used to being the person he was now that his old thoughts and emotions might as well have been those of a stranger. He'd forgotten that he hadn’t actually become someone new, but only grown up and around himself to the point that he barely recognized the person who still lived inside him. Denying it had gotten him into this mess; saying it had to be the first step to something.
Glancing up at Sora he was consoled by the look of patient understanding reflected back at him by his best friend, his lover; the person who sometimes knew him better than he knew himself.
“Y’know what that tells me?” Sora said, lovingly stroking back the fringe of Riku’s bangs.
“What?” Riku’s heart hung like a glass ornament on whatever Sora was about to say.
“That we need to do this more often!” He said with a grin, gently tapping Riku’s face with the collar.
Riku laughed, low and soft. Sora’s relentless optimism never failed to pull him back from the edge of despair, making him feel self-conscious of his overwrought sentiments.
“Yeah, definitely,” he agreed. The chokehold on his heart eased, but he still felt the urgency to reaffirm his commitment to the person who he’d sworn to love and cherish forever. He needed to be reminded that nothing, absolutely nothing was worth hurting Sora like this.
Rising back up on his knees Riku tilted his head back, presenting his neck proudly as if he was accepting a knighthood. He sighed as his Dominant finally looped the collar around his throat, already surrendering to the feeling of the cool leather embracing him. Sora’s fingers were warm and gentle as he worked to thread the silver buckle, but turned firm when he pulled the choke strap tight.
Sora’s heart fluttered in excitement in response to the moan that escaped Riku’s parted lips as he pulled the choke-strap to easily bend the larger man’s body to his whims. As the collar squeezed he could see the tension leaving Riku’s body like water being wrung from a sponge. Sora really liked watching his submissive’s eyes slide half-closed and get that far-off, dreamy look. He paid close attention to the color of Riku’s face as it grew red and he struggled to take shallow breaths against the pressure of the collar. Once he saw the tell-tale vein standing out on Riku’s temple, Sora released the strap and Riku swayed forward, taking deep breaths as the blood and oxygen flowed freely to his head again.
“Thank you, Master,” Riku said, panting, not just from the collar but from the thrill of saying it. ‘Master’ was a word Sora had only agreed to after he’d understood how much it meant to Riku. He’d wanted Sora to use the same word that Ansem did in order to fill in the channels that had been dug by him, and create a new surface to build on.
“You’re welcome, Pet,” Sora said, a word Riku only agreed to after he saw how Sora’s eyes lit up when he proclaimed how fun it would be to spoil his “favorite pet” and how he couldn’t wait to go buy him new toys.
“I love you,” Sora reaffirmed quietly. “All of you.” He gave another one of those lovingly stern smiles while still keeping a gently firm tension on the choke strap. “I know he’s still a part of you,” he continued more boldly, “but I’m your Master now!”
If Riku could’ve melted into the floor at that moment he would have. Sora’s words rolled over him, coating him like hot gooey honey.
“Thank you, Master,” he said again. Saying it never got old.
From his kneeling position between Sora’s legs, Riku could slip his arms around his waist and pull him close, resting his head against that warm chest and listening to the strong heart beating inside. Sora wrapped his arms around broad shoulders with familiar ease, resting his cheek against the top of soft silver hair and taking in his lover’s scent.
When their lips met again, Sora pushed his tongue forcefully and deeply into Riku’s mouth, winning another lustful moan as they began to dissolve into each other's bodies– warm, velvety, wet.
They parted to take fluttering breaths against each other's lips, heartbeats frantic with the excitement of what they were about to do.
“Ready?” Sora asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Riku answered, his voice turning rough with desire.
Sora stood up from his chair and helped Riku into the seat he’d just vacated. It was still warm, and Riku leaned back comfortably, adjusting his collar like he was fixing a tie.
Then they both turned their attention towards the impact implements Sora had laid out on the table in advance: a long cane made of a rigid but slightly flexible synthetic material, and a traditional leather-wrapped riding crop.
They’d picked them up in San Fransokyo during an awkward but fruitful trip to a “toy store for grown ups.” It was embarrassing at first, but Riku had to admit that he felt some sense of comfort in seeing people who confronted that part of themselves without fear or shame.
“Hmmm, let’s see.” Sora considered the implements, tapping his chin thoughtfully, then he glanced back at Riku with knitted eyebrows. “I was going to start with the cane, but now I kind of don’t want to hurt you as much anymore.”
“You’d better not be going easy on me,” Riku said, only half joking.
“You’re right,” Sora said almost immediately. “You need to remember this.”
The way Sora’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk as he picked up the cane sent shivers up and down Riku’s spine. He leaned back into the chair and relaxed as much as possible, letting his bare legs fall open at the knees, presenting the expanse of unmarked skin to Sora, ready and waiting.
Sora held the cane, lightly tapping it against his opposite palm to get used to the feel of it. Then he pressed it against the top of Riku’s thigh, indicating where he was going to start.
Riku was ready to jump out of his skin with anticipation as he tightened his grip on the sides of the chair, while willing the rest of his muscles to stay relaxed in order to receive the first blow.
The first strike wasn’t hard, but the relief it brought washed over both of them like a burst dam. Several more strikes came quickly after, each aimed at the same general area in the center of Riku’s right quad– the most resilient and least painful area of his upper leg. When they’d first started this kind of play, Sora had been a little clumsy and overzealous, leading to some funny moments and some surprisingly dark bruises. But with a little practice and feedback from Riku he’d quickly become fluent with his tools, knowing how to make them land exactly how and where he wanted, and with how much force.
They made eye contact, and Sora read in Riku’s steady, encouraging gaze the affirmation to continue.
This time Sora used his other hand to slightly bend back the tip of the cane, holding it close to Riku’s skin and then releasing it so that it hit with a precise and extremely solid thud. It drew an equally solid grunt from Riku, who had already gotten used to the light taps.
Another well-aimed blow landed next to the previous one, and then another, and another, until there was a row of neat red stripes like a stretch of train tracks that had just been laid all the way down the top of his leg. Each rail added to the string of appreciative cries that fell from Riku’s mouth.
When they were kids, Riku would have never imagined he’d be letting Sora hit him. Of course he’d taken his fair share of injuries from Sora over the years. During play, practice, and the fights that had gotten a little too real, Sora had defeated him more times than Riku cared to admit.
Sora had also been surprised by Riku’s (and his own) eagerness at first. He thought they would’ve already beat the shit out of each other enough to last a lifetime. The idea of hurting Riku on purpose wasn’t something that he generally wanted to do these days, but then he’d realized he wasn’t actually hurting hurting him; it was a path to something that was ultimately about pleasure and love, and he could get behind that!
This was less like fighting and more like having a conversation, but with all meaning being wordlessly communicated with their bodies. Sora wasn’t hitting Riku, he was making love to him.
Riku tilted his leg so that the softer skin of his inner thigh was exposed– an offering– then looked heatedly at Sora, imploring him to continue, like he needed this more than anything else in the world right now.
Sora gazed down at Riku, whose eyes were so full of love, desire, need, and all the things that they had no need of language for.
He held the cane close to that tenderly offered spot and then, pulling back hard on the tip he bent it into a long curve before letting it fly, landing heavily on its target.
Riku flinched hard this time, fighting his body’s urge to close in on itself. They had tried using restraints, and still used them on special occasions, but there was a certain satisfaction in the effort it took for Riku to hold still on his own. This way, he had to show with his body language that he was a completely willing participant with every stroke.
Taking a deep breath, Riku leaned back against the chair, keeping his inner thigh exposed to welcome further abuse.
When Sora unleashed a steady round of blows, Riku couldn’t stop the sounds that first squeezed through gritted teeth, and then fell freely from his open mouth as he let himself go. The hits on his inner thigh felt twice as painful as those on the top of his leg, and each one sent an ache shooting all the way down his knee and shin.
The fight to surrender raged in his mind– to let the pain be what it was, to just to exist with the consequences of his actions.
When Sora circled back around to focus on one particular spot just next to the crevice of his underwear line, it took everything Riku had in him to keep his legs spread. Sweat jumped to his palms, making them slippery where they gripped the sides of the chair.
One final, extra hard thwack to that same spot on his inner thigh made Riku double over, and his legs snapped closed. He quickly forced them back open and sat stiffly, but couldn't keep his head from lolling against the chairback, panting as he wiped his hands on his shirt.
Sora set down the cane and turned to tend to his submissive. Threading their fingers together, he squeezed Riku’s warm damp hands gently.
“You okay?” Sora whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to Riku’s temple.
Riku nodded, but they’d learned pretty quickly that Riku didn’t know when to tell Sora to stop, so Sora had to keep an eye out for clues– like Riku’s color and temperature. After one of their first sessions left Riku looking like a dark portal had been opened on his asscheeks, Sora had also learned to pay closer attention to how much and what kind of damage each implement dealt.
Sometimes Sora offered to heal him, but Riku always said it would be a waste of a magical resource.
The truth was that Riku enjoyed the reminders as he moved through his day, carrying the pain with him like a charm carried in his pocket. His tasks and activities would occasionally cause a bruise to flare up here or there, sending a flush of the memory washing over him.
Sora found he also loved seeing the evidence of their passion when Riku took his clothes off at night. It would draw them to each other, like a light in the dim monotony of day to day life, a reminder to touch and be present with each other. For as long as the bruises lasted they continued to bask in the afterglow of their sessions.
Even though their schedules had slowed down considerably since the war ended, they were kept busy with their duties as Keyblade Masters and it could often be weeks or even months before they’d have another opportunity to “play” together.
Sora got down on one knee to inspect the red welts he’d created all over Riku’s leg. He ran his fingertips lightly over the topography of pain they mapped out, gently inspecting the quickly-raising welts he’d left in the wake of his barrage, then kissed the tender flesh.
Riku sighed in pleasure at the feeling of Sora’s lips, which felt like a soothing balm on a sunburn. His hands came up to rest on Sora’s head, fingers curling into messy brown locks as he basked in the feeling. After a few moments he gently coaxed the kneeling dominant back up for a deep kiss.
Riku was a little clammy but still warm, and his color was a little splotchy but mostly normal, and a smile hung on the corner of his rose-blush lips. This all signaled to Sora that everything was good to keep going.
Sora fully stood, straightening his posture and moving to pick up the next implement from the table– the riding crop. He’d chosen this one as the follow-up to the cane because the damage it dealt was more superficial, while still delivering a serious sting. It was a good way to extend the session just a little bit longer without going too far.
The quirk in Riku’s lips turned into a full-on grin.
Leaning back in the chair he placed his hands obediently back at his sides and took some slow, deep breaths to prepare himself. Sora didn’t need to tell him what to do because he already knew what Sora wanted, and he was happy to do it unprompted. He needed to show Sora how ready he was to please him. How ready he was to be good.
Sora bounced the soft rectangle of leather at the tip of the crop gently over the same area he’d worked with the cane, gauging Riku’s reaction closely as he readjusted to the feeling of the already tenderized flesh being further harassed.
They found that working over the same general area made the most sense logistically, in addition to getting more bang for the buck. Instead of leaving Riku’s whole body covered in welts and bruises, keeping it contained allowed him to train, fight, and tend to his daily duties unhindered and free to let the wounds heal naturally.
Sora continued to swing the crop with steadily increasing force until it was landing with loud sharp smacks. Riku rewarded him with low cries and gasps—a melodic accompaniment to the rhythm of the crop landing again and again. Each hit set the nerves of his already inflamed skin newly alight.
Then he delivered the full force of the crop, aiming for that spot on Riku’s inner thigh that had made him squirm extra hard, and was probably going to be the spot with the biggest bruise. Actually, Sora was going to make sure it was.
Riku bit back his yell with mixed success, coming out as a shout and ending in a strangled growl.
Sora hit him again, and then again, waiting for Riku to stop holding back. Waiting for that moment when his shouts would start coming out sounding more desperate and broken. Of course he didn’t really want Riku to feel desperate and broken, yet he had to admit there was a part of him that got a thrill from pushing both of their limits. Of course, it all hinged on knowing that Riku wanted it too.
When he paused to catch his breath, Riku groaned and let his head fall back, but kept his hands locked to his sides, knees spread like there were two iron rods bolting the soles of his feet to the ground. He looked hazy with euphoria, but there was still a hungry, needy look in his eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Sora said, “I’m not done yet.”
Then he opened the floodgates.
Riku’s next yell came out uninhibited, as did the next. It felt like he was being cut by a hot metal blade as Sora continued to let him have it until Riku’s choked breaths started to sound more like sobs. It was too much but not enough. He wanted to receive every ounce of what Sora was giving him– needed to feel all of it.
The hard truth was that it had felt good to be wanted the way Ansem wanted him. And he hated it–hated the part of him that had a habit of wandering dangerously close to the edge.
Did Ansem love him? Maybe. But Ansem’s love was that of a predator possessing its prey. No matter how thrilling and intoxicating, that kind of fixation turned everything in its path into no more than a piece of kindling powering a furnace that could only consume and destroy. And when Ansem’s favorite toy was taken away, he became like a child throwing a tantrum. Angry, covetous, and so unreasonable that he would sooner destroy the object of his fixation than let it leave him.
Riku finally found himself floating in surrender to the journey Sora was guiding him through. Taking him higher and closer to a sun that could burn him alive; leading him closer to the edge of the cliff that could leave him dashed into pieces on the rocks below.
But Sora wasn’t going to let him fall. And if he did, he would catch him.
When Sora finally stopped, they were both panting hard from the exertion and only then did Riku become aware of the loud sounds he’d been making.
“I’ve got you,” Sora said resolutely. He needed Riku to understand that no matter how much Ansem pursued him, threatened him, and tempted him, he could and would protect him.
“I think I’m gonna end by using my hand,” Sora said.
Riku felt a twinge of disappointment that it was almost over, but he also knew to trust Sora’s judgment. That was part of the terms of his surrender.
“Okay,” Riku agreed.
He resumed his position– arms by his sides, legs open.
Sora gently touched the well-worked over area, lingering and letting his fingers whisper over the raised welts and drawing shivers from Riku.
Then he raised his hand up and struck, landing on Riku’s injured inner thigh with a loud crack.
Riku yelped, but was pleasantly surprised by how hard Sora had slapped him. The skin-on-skin contact sent fresh shockwaves of excitement shooting through him. There was something intimate about being hit open-handed that made it feel a little extra exciting.
Sora also liked the sting on his skin. It allowed him to feel a little bit of what Riku was feeling, making his palm glow with lingering pain and heat.
“How about five more. Count it down,” Sora said.
Riku’s eyes rolled back and he moaned when the first of five hit him extra hard, lighting up all the previous injuries like an inflagration.
“Five,” he said, remembering Sora’s command.
On “four,” prickly heat jumped all up and down his back. By “three” his legs were shaking again.
“Two,” he announced, not feeling self-conscious at all when it came out as a desperate and ragged cry.
Sora shook out his hand and got into position. He had to make the last one count as he delivered the final blow with an extra burst of vigor.
“One,” Riku ground out in a strangled half-whisper, letting himself fall limply forward like his strings had been cut.
As always, Sora caught him.
Riku sighed contentedly. He was free.
This time, when Sora embraced his submissive he found that Riku’s skin had become very damp and cold, and he could feel the trembling in his huffed breaths as he held him. Setting aside the crop he went to get them both some water. He had also worked up a sweat, and he casually stripped off his shirt, so he was only in his boxers.
Riku graciously sipped the water Sora handed him and admired his lover as he leaned against the table. His gently muscular body was the perfect balance of velvet and marble. In profile his eyelashes curved against the slope of his cheek, which abruptly jutted out to form the small peak of his blushing nose, then sharply falling off to the concave dip above his upper lip– and oh, how perfectly lovely those lips looked in profile… Just looking at him felt like it could've left Riku more breathless than the beating he'd just taken.
When Sora caught Riku gazing at him he blushed. It didn't matter how much he took charge, Riku still had the power to make him weak with just a glance, a raised eyebrow, or a quirk of his lips.
He always wanted Riku to look at him like that.
It seemed like Sora might have been more worn out than Riku, who was still basking in all the adrenaline and natural pain-killers that his body had generously flooded him with.
Sora took a moment to examine his handiwork. The crop had left fresh red marks in the shape of the handle and rectangular tip that crisscrossed over the previous rows of welts. The effect created a rich depth of color, like the layering of glaze on an oil painting. Many small red dots had jumped to the surface in clusters, like scattered groupings of galaxies across the canvas of his skin. He laid the cool backs of his hands against Riku’s leg, which radiated like a hot log in the embers of a recently extinguished fire.
“Wow, it’s really warm,” he remarked.
Riku hissed at the feeling on his overly sensitive skin, Sora’s hands eliciting a sensation somewhere between silk and dry ice.
Sora moved to stand between Riku's knees, which hung limply open. Wrapping his arms around Riku’s neck, he cradled his head, bringing it to rest against his chest. They stayed that way, catching their breath while he caressed Riku’s hair and ran his hands over the back of his neck– lingering to idly play with the collar there. Then he continued sliding his hands over Riku's broad shoulders, taking a moment to knead the impressive muscles there, then rubbed light circles over his upper back. Comforting him, loving him.
—
As they lay in bed, Sora got into his favorite position, tucking his body against Riku’s side and snuggling his head into the area where it fit perfectly in the crevice formed by Riku’s pec and shoulder.
The skin on Riku’s neck was slightly reddened from where the collar had been, and he tilted his head to kiss the chafed flesh there.
“Thank you,” Riku said, voice coming out deep and rough, his muscles relaxed in a way that only the relief of their sessions could bring.
“You’re welcome,” Sora said, happy and self-satisfied.
They fell asleep to the sounds and smells that drifted through the cracked open window– the cool scent of pine and sounds of crickets from the edge of the forest, and the distant sounds of the city– a carriage bell, the shriek of a child’s far-away laughter.
Early the next morning, while it was still dark, they made love.