Unforgivable Sins

Pairing: Riku Replika/Xigbar
Prompt Given: “Chill”
Rated: R
Warnings: Oral, language, angst, implied character death

The Riku Replika will be referred to as “Repliku” in this story, simply because it’s easier to type.


Relaxation

By: LostinThought8

In the huge fortress at the edge of space known as Castle Oblivion, a lone boy can often be seen pacing the long corridors in the early hours of the morning. His boots make sharp clicking noises against the eerily quiet marble halls, and the sounds he makes as he kills the occasional lone Heartless he runs across are deafening in the silence. For all the casual observer might figure out, this strange boy is the only inhabitant of the gigantic place.

The casual observer would be wrong, of course. There are other inhabitants, but they’re all resting now. When they awaken they all prefer to operate out of a select few rooms of Castle Oblivion, so the boy hardly ever sees any of them at any hour of the day. He goes up and down each castle floor alone, a single splotch of dark color in an otherwise stark world of empty white halls and rooms.

The boy walks on alone at the same firm pace, not knowing whether it’s night or day, whether it’s summer or winter, whether it’s sunny out or raining. There are no windows in the thick walls of Castle Oblivion. He can’t even tell how long he has been walking for, as there are also no clocks. Every now and then he pokes his head inside one of the White Rooms lining the hall, but seeing no doors within, he simply continues along down the main corridors.

Eventually, however, on some unknown day or week or month or year since he’s been traveling, he runs across another person-the first person he’s seen in awhile. The figure is tall and fit, clothed entirely in a long black cloak that hugs the firm muscles of their abdomen, the hood of which is drawn up over their face. The person’s hands and feet are covered in black boots and gloves. They’re currently lounging by the stairwell leading up to the next floor, idly twirling one of the silver tassels on the front of the cloak.

The boy tightens his grip on his weapon. It just so happens that all the inhabitants of this castle wear that same black cloak. And not one of them can be trusted.

The cloaked figure raises their head towards the boy at the other end of the hall. “Oh,” they call out in a long, deep, lazy drawl. “Hey there.”

So he knows this unknown person is a man, at least. No woman speaks in such a deep voice. The boy shifts his stance in case a fight breaks out, his pale blue eyes hardening to cold, hard chips of ice in an equally pale face. “Who’re you?” He asks in a rough, angry voice.

The man laughs, leaning back casually against the stairwell. “I’m with the Organization,” he responds, waving his hand airily. Although the boy can’t see the man’s face, he can feel his eyes on him. They take in his pale skin, cold aquamarine eyes, and shoulder length silver hair. Then, to the boy’s alarm, they travel down even further, taking in his high-collared, dark purple jumpsuit with the Heartless symbol emblazoned across the chest, his feathery white half-skirt tipped with blue, and his royal blue boots and gloves. The invisible eyes linger across his own abdomen, which is also hugged tightly by his jumpsuit. A slight pinkness tinges the boy’s cheeks at the thought of this strange man ogling him.

“What is this ‘Organization?’” He cries at the cloaked figure to hide his embarrassment. “Everyone here talks about it, but no one tells me why it’s so important.” Thinking about this makes the boy angry, and his weapon, a strange blade shaped like a bat’s wing and colored shades of crimson and dark blue, is suddenly pointed at the man’s chest. He shifts into a battle stance, asking, “Who ARE you people, really? What are you?”

The man laughs again, which only serves to make the boy angrier. “Dude, even I don’t know what the Organization’s doing anymore,” he says. “And I’ve been with it from the beginning. I’m just here to look around, see how things are going, then write somethin’ up to make the Superior happy. ‘Kay?”

Then the man seems to get a good look at the boy’s sword. He does a double take, moving away from the wall and standing up straight for the first time. “You’re not Riku, are you?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious for the first time. “If you are, the Superior’s been looking for you.”

These words seem to be the trigger that set the boy off. With a wordless roar he charges down the hallway at the cloaked man, the keening edge of his blade glinting dully in the sterile white light. “I’m NOT Riku! Don’t EVER call me Riku, you fucker!” He shouts, swinging his weapon at the man’s chest-

-only to strike at nothing but air. He whirls around, wondering where his opponent could have gone…then sees him standing on the ceiling, waving at him.

“Word to the wise,” the mystery man calls out cheerfully. “Next time, don’t try to pick a fight with a guy who can bend space.”

“You…you…Bastard! Argh!” The boy leaps up and slashes again at the cloaked man’s chest. His pale eyes widen in shock as the man vanishes in a swirl of black, reappearing in an instant by one of the hall’s marble pillars. The boy lands neatly back on his feet and shoots a burst of spinning purplish-black dark energy from his hand, but the cloaked figure raises his arm and deflects it as if it were nothing more than a stray ping pong ball.

The boy can only stand there now, staring at this man he now hates even more than Vexen. He’s too fast, too strong…what more could the silver-haired boy throw at him that he can’t simply dodge or deflect?

The man chuckles again, shaking his head slightly. “You’re too much, kid,” he mutters. “I understand now. You must be that clone of Vexen’s, the Riku Replika. Mind if I call you Repliku?”

Repliku snarls angrily, flinging his blade to the floor in anger. It skitters off to rest in the corner by the stairwell. “You don’t know me,” he mutters. “So how did you know about me? What’s your name?” He yells this last part, feeling like he wants to punch something, anything, to release the anger building up inside of him.

To the clone’s surprise, the man reaches up and pushes back his hood, revealing a heavily scarred face, a thin, smirking mouth, and a mischievous goldenrod yellow eye. His left eye is covered by a black eyepatch, and Repliku finds himself wondering what happened to it. His hair is jet black and long, liberally streaked with silver and tied back in a thin ponytail.

To his surprise, Repliku thinks that this man is…well, not pretty, exactly; not with all those scars, but elegant, in his own way. He finds himself thinking of a lion, looking down on his pride and surveying all he’s fought for and won with a bitter sense of accomplishment.

“I’m Xigbar, the Freeshooter, Number II of the Organization XIII,” the man says softly, with a kinder sort of smile on his face that, against his will, makes Repliku relax slightly.

“And what does this Organization do?” He asks, still glaring at Xigbar as if hoping to burn a hole through his cloak. “Make disgusting sins against Nature like me?”

“We study hearts,” Xigbar replies calmly.

“Really?” Repliku’s really interested now. “So you could-”

“Kid, if I could give you a heart, I wouldn’t be here myself now.” For once Xigbar looks a little upset, looking up at the ceiling as if there’s something infinitely fascinating with plain white marble. His arms are tightly crossed over his chest and his mouth is a thin line.

“So you don’t have a heart either, then,” says Repliku, disappointed. He hasn’t met too many people with hearts in his short life, and most of the ones he has met he’s been fighting with on Vexen’s orders. “I didn’t think so.”

“What’re you doing out here anyway, kid?” Xigbar asks, looking back at Repliku. “Shouldn’t you be in Vexen’s lab?”

Repliku snorts. “That hellhole? Fuck no. I ran away,” he explains. “Vexen only wanted to use me to test the two Keyblade Masters in here. So I’m trying to find a way out of Castle Oblivion. I’m gonna go off and be my own person, not just ‘the Riku Replika.’”

“Sorry to disappoint ya, kid,” Xigbar says, “but this place is shut up tight. I tried to get in through the only door just for shits and giggles, but Marluxia’s locked it up tight. You’re stuck in here unless you can use Dark Portals like us Organization members.”

Repliku stares at Xigbar, his icy eyes so wide in his face that the elder Nobody idly wonders why they haven’t popped out of his head. “Wh-what?” He finally manages to get out, his mouth working furiously. “No…th-that can’t be! You’re lying! YOU’RE LYING TO ME!!”

Repliku falls to his knees and punches the floor so hard that the marble flowerpots at the end of the hall rattle slightly. Xigbar would have stumbled himself were it not for his firm grip on the castle pillar. The clone’s shoulders are shuddering with the force of holding back sobs of fury and despair. “I can’t be stuck here forever…” the silver-haired boy whispers, slamming his palm into the floor a few more times in an attempt to keep the tears back.

Suddenly, Repliku feels a gloved hand resting gently on his shoulder. He looks up, prepared to leap away or summon his weapon…only to see Xigbar above him, looking down with an expression of sorrow. It’s a look Repliku can tell is uncharacteristic on his heavily scarred face. His one visible golden eye is shining not with trickery, but with pity. “Relax, kid,” Xigbar says softly. “You’re so wound up. You’ve gotta learn to chill. When you’re calm, good things happen to you.” A small smile touches the corners of his lips.

Repliku doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly he’s on his feet, his arms around Xigbar’s middle and his face buried in the older man’s cloak. He’s never been touched out of kindness before. Vexen and Larxene have hit him out of anger, and he’s occasionally brushed up against Sora or Riku in battle, but no one has put a gentle hand on him before.

Xigbar’s eye widens at the clone’s proximity, but his face soon relaxes into a smile. He gently places his own arms around Repliku in return, his fingers brushing the boy’s firm back and stomach muscles. For a creation of Vexen’s-whose projects have long had a reputation of melting into piles of bubbling goo after only a few days-this boy is quite well developed.

Repliku feels something hard poking him in the stomach, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out that it’s Xigbar’s arousal. He looks up into the Nobody’s face, and sees a faint blush spread over the man’s features, making his scars and eyepatch stand out even more in contrast.

Repliku smirks. He’s dreamed of sex that isn’t simply Vexen seeking release through his body, and now seems like the perfect opportunity.

The silver-haired clone rises up on tiptoes. “Seems like someone else is tense as well,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of Xigbar’s ear and making the taller man shiver. He puts his hands on the Nobody’s chest and pushes until Xigbar is up against the hard marble wall. Repliku then places his mouth over Xigbar’s in a deep kiss.

Xigbar gasps in surprise, and Repliku takes advantage of his open mouth to slip in his tongue, tracing over each of the older man’s teeth. Xigbar moans, kissing Repliku back hard and pushing at his jumpsuit. Both clone and Nobody fall to the floor, tongues twining around in each others’ mouths.

The two pull away, panting heavily. “This seems like a pretty good way of relaxing to me,” says Repliku with a devilish smirk, and Xigbar nods heavily, tugging at the silver belt of the clone’s feathery half-skirt. Repliku pushes him onto his back, slowly and tortuously dragging off his gloves with his teeth while mouthing Xigbar’s earlobe. Xigbar quickly yanks off his own gloves, eager for skin-on-skin contact.

Repliku finds the zipper of Xigbar’s cloak and drags it down, revealing the Nobody’s firm chest while licking at the shell of his ear. Xigbar moans loudly. “Stop it, please…you’re such a fuckin’ tease…”

“Just relax…” Repliku grins, quickly shrugging out of his own jumpsuit and skirt and kicking off his boots. Xigbar is practically tearing at his cloak in his impatience to get naked, but Repliku pins the older man’s hands above his head in a vice-like grip. He slowly slides off Xigbar’s cloak, leaving the Nobody in only pants and boots, the latter of which are quickly kicked off.

“Please, kid…” Xigbar moans.

“Tell me what you want, Xigbar…” Repliku whispers into the elder Nobody’s ear while mouthing at an earlobe. “Or I can’t give it to you…”

“Just take my fuckin’ pants off, dammit!”

Repliku grins to rival the Cheshire Cat and starts kissing and biting Xigbar’s collarbone, leaving a trail of red hickeys down to the chest and working his way lower. He slowly unzips Xigbar’s pants and removes them, humming in slight surprise as Xigbar’s erection pops out to greet him. Apparently the gunman goes commando.

The clone puts his warm mouth around Xigbar’s firm nipple, grinning around it as the man gives off a loud moan from just that tiny bit of contact. He’s glad Xigbar is so sensitive, as it makes this that much more fun for him. Repliku laves and bites at the nipple until it’s firm and red, then moves his mouth to the other one, giving it the same treatment. His hand drifts ever downward, fingertips brushing his abdomen to tightly grip his erection.

Xigbar screams. “Please, Repliku…just…”

Repliku squeezes hard, and Xigbar hisses in pain. “Don’t,” he hisses into the older Nobody’s ear. “Don’t say that. That’s not my name. I have no name, so don’t try to give me one.”

“Ah! …F-Fine!”

“Good boy. Now calm down and let me work,” says Repliku, and he starts palming Xigbar’s erection, squeezing at the head so that precum drips out and coats the clone’s fingertips. Xigbar moans again, arching into the touch.

“I need more…more…”

Repliku laughs. “Greedy,” he chides, “tsk”-ing as he lowers his mouth down to Xigbar’s erection, laying a few harsh kisses on his abdomen along the way. He then takes the Nobody into his mouth, deep-throating him like a pro.

Xigbar is practically screaming now. “Kid, how are you doing this?” He hisses through clenched teeth, as Repliku licks the underside of his cock and sucks hard. His head bobs up and down as he sucks, and Xigbar is desperately resisting the urge to thrust into the clone’s face.

“Agh, I’m not gonna last much longer…”

“Me neither…” Repliku groans around Xigbar’s cock. His own manhood is aching fit to burst, dripping precum onto the floor. He works his hand down and pumps hard as he drinks Xigbar in, tonguing the head harshly and lapping up the bitter drops of precum, trying not to gag at the taste.

“Oh…kid…I’m…” And Xigbar comes, shooting white seed into Repliku’s mouth. Repliku drinks it all down, surprised at how Xigbar tastes…salty, but not overwhelmingly so. A few more quick pumps and he’s come as well, groaning Xigbar’s name, his seed staining the pristine marble floor.

For a little while the two simply lay next to each other on the floor, basking in the glow of their orgasms. Xigbar is pleased to hear Repliku’s breathing is now calm and even, not the quick, hurried panting it was when they had first crossed paths. “You chill now?” He asks the young clone.

“Yeah,” Repliku sighs next to him.

A few minutes later Xigbar sits up and begins gathering his clothing together. “Kid…I gotta go.” He mutters. “The Superior’ll be wondering what’s keeping me. I can’t stay here, understand? I’m needed back at the World That Never Was.”

Repliku is silent, and Xigbar is afraid that the silver-haired boy will fight with him to try to get him to stay. But finally he says, quietly, “Okay.”

“I’ll try to come back and see you again,” Xigbar offers, now zipping up his cloak.

“I’ll be waiting,” says Repliku, sitting up and grinning lazily at him, eyelids drooped lazily over pale blue orbs. He raises a hand in farewell as Xigbar summons a swirling black vortex and disappears into it.

Axel notes that the silver-haired clone is unusually calm on the day he goes to fight Riku for the last time.


Embrace the crack. Review.