Note: I decided to try my hand at this pair. To warn, this deals with incest and has a bit of noncon.

The Gospel


He doesn't know when it started. If it started at the sandbox where the two made sand castles for endless hours and he'd stare at the way the sun flushed his brother's plump cheeks or at church, where Sora would lightly brush his knee against his and he'd feel a slight heat circle around his ears.

Roxas doesn't know when it started, but he knows that it's happening now, as Sister Mary begins the discussion about the gospel according to Mark.

Sora is next to him, scribbling away, his forehead frowning in concentration. Roxas watches him, watches him bite the end of his pencil, lips ruby red and pursed at the eraser. Sora taps the pencil on his chin now and Roxas' eyes follow the line of his jaw down the slope of his creamy neck. He pictures how Sora would look with his shirt open, exposing the areas where the skin looks the smoothest, between the collar bone and neck. He swallows thickly, heat rising on the surface of his cheeks, as he wonders just how soft Sora would feel if he brushed his fingers over his pulse.

He stops himself from going further and the Devil's beside him, cheering him on. With unruly blood red locks and glowing green eyes, the man leans close into his ear. His breath is hot and his lips curve into a sly smile. Roxas closes his eyes, trying to resist the cunning man's lips brush teasingly over his ear lobe as the man whispers the proper way to undress someone with one's eyes.


On Sunday evenings there is Sunday dinner.

The twins help set up the table as their parents are busy in the kitchen. Roxas places the knives and forks in their proper places while Sora lines the plates and napkins.

Roxas is called and he reappears with dessert in hand.

He watches Sora, dark blue eyes full of hunger. Roxas pretends that look is for him and not for the cream pie in his hand.

He places the pie in the middle. As he removes his hands, a finger accidentally brushes the curls of whipped cream. He stares at it, debating if he should lick it or not and he feels Sora staring at him.

Roxas notices how hard Sora is staring, blue eyes are fixed on the cream covering his finger. He thinks that he can hypnotize him if he wanted, just sway his finger to his own lips and maybe Sora would follow.

He also notices Sora come back from wherever his mind had whisked him off to and blush when he saw him staring back at him.

"Let me," Sora says and he fumbles with a napkin as he comes around the table.

Roxas holds his finger out to him and Sora grabs onto the cuff of his sleeve. He stops and Roxas wonders if the cream is hypnotizing him again. Sora looks torn, bottom lip pouted out, and eyes heavy with blue.

Roxas wonders if he's torn between licking the cream himself or using the napkin and hopes Sora makes the decision soon because he's too close for comfort, he's too close to kiss.

Sora leans forward and Roxas notices how red the surface of his brother's cheeks are. They're flushed and remind him of those plump sweet cherries they picked over the summer.

Sora wraps his lips around Roxas' finger and Roxas has difficulty breathing. He thinks he hears Sora moan, but it's his own lips that the sound escapes from. His tongue feels hot and wet and Roxas feels heavy headed. He moves his finger upwards and Sora follows, still sucking on the digit, making sure there is no cream.

And this gives Roxas pleasure to see him follow, to see him hypnotized. But this also makes Roxas feel a pang of guilt. Sora looks so vulnerable now, with eyes closed and flustered cheeks. He thinks he shouldn't do this. He should stop this right now and pray for forgiveness. He should pray for the Lord to not lead him into temptation.

But the Devil at the head of the table is smiling. His long pale fingers are intertwined, his chin resting on them. His elbows stand tall on the table. The Devil smiles harder when Roxas turns to look at him and his green eyes grow brighter when Roxas begins to slowly thrust his finger in and out of Sora's mouth.

There's a loud sound of a dish breaking in the kitchen and this breaks the twins apart. Roxas looks startled and guilty, while Sora looks confused and sedated.

They both look at one another and Roxas sees that his brother's eyes are glazed. He wants to shake him out of his lethargic trance. He wants him to pray, for only the Lord can save him from this sin. But Sora looks as though he's been feasting on the nectar of Gods and Roxas knows that he cannot save him.


When the nights are long and the wind outside is bitter and cold, Sora slips into his bed for extra warmth. It never made a difference before, they were young, naïve, and snuggled up together without a care. Now it makes Roxas uneasy to have his brother so up close. It makes him think of things he shouldn't dare be thinking about.

Sora is beside him, head facing the wall, breathing evenly as he dreams.

He's cold, but knows that if he gets closer to Sora, sinful thoughts will come to him again. He doesn't want to do that. Not with the Lord judging him. Not with the Devil watching.

Roxas moves closer, not baring the cold any longer and snuggles up to Sora's form. He inhales the sweet smell of shampoo from his brother's dark locks and gently snakes his arm over his form. His brother stirs, but doesn't wake.

Roxas stares at the back of his head. He wonders what it would feel like if he ran his lips over the very short hairs at the top of the neck. Before he could banish the thought, he finds himself brushing his lips on smooth skin. It feels soft and the short hairs tickle his nose.

He feels Sora stiffen and now Roxas wonders if he's awake enough to feel his tongue drawing circles on his neck, as well as the hardness he's pressing onto his back. He doesn't know where all this will go or why Sora so willingly lets him.

His hand cups Sora's chin and his fingers lightly brush against his lips. He can feel them trembling, mouthing the words of the Lord. He feels the tip of Sora's tongue trace a finger and Roxas fights down a moan. He can hear Sora's breathing, it's rapid and chopped. Roxas presses himself against him, trying to ignore the hardness that he himself cannot control.

Sora shudders when Roxas' hand travels down his chest and the boy whimpers when Roxas gets to his navel. His hand slips below the waist band of Sora's shorts and he swallows when his fingers brush against soft skin and dip below the hip bone.

Roxas is lost. He's confused as to what this situation is supposed to mean. He feels as though he cannot be saved because he can't tell the difference between what is right and wrong anymore. He can only recognize what feels good, and at the moment, making his brother moan into his pillow is making him feel good.

He rubs himself against him and soon enough he shudders in orgasmic bliss.

Floating between a trance of warmth and sleep, he musters up the energy to trace his lips over his brother's ear. And as Sora presses his face into his pillow to moan and shudder in orgasm, Roxas mouths the words of a prayer to save his brother's soul.


His head breaks the surface of the water once more as he tries to cleanse himself of the sin he committed the previous night.

He wonders what Sora thinks of him now and hopes that he doesn't hate him. Sora doesn't look at him in the eye anymore, but he hasn't stopped talking to him. In retrospect, he thinks he did it out of love. They are brothers and they've shared a wound. Roxas wonders if it's okay to love his brother as much as he does and if that love is the same love he has for the Lord.

The water is warm and the froth of soap threatens to swallow him. Roxas sinks further into the tub and closes his eyes. He rubs his hands along his body, fingers slipping down familiar curves and muscles. They stop midway, where his hips are, and they dip in between his thighs.

He pictures Sora on top of him, strong legs straddling his waist, with his hardness pressed against his stomach. He's memorized by how well Sora can roll his hips in time with his thrusts and he questions whether or not Sora knows more than he ought too about these things. He tries interpreting this as they rock together and moan their love of God. But it's hard to concentrate when everything is happening so fast. It's hard to search for reason when everything is so hot, wet, slick, and tight all at once.

Roxas tries to hold himself back, but his back arches and his toes curl. He moans a throaty sound, animalistic and filled with lust, as a flash of white hot light engulfs him.

His breath desperately tries to catch up and he opens his eyes to see nothing but a sea of foam in front of him. The Devil is at the foot of the tub, smiling so hard that it makes Roxas' ears burn with shame.

He sits up and stares at the amused man, stares at the triangular tattoos that dance under glowing emerald eyes.

"Roxas," he calls, and Roxas knows now what the man wants.

He wants him to choose between the path of good and evil. Roxas doesn't know where his feelings for his brother will lie.

In the name of the father…

It takes him awhile to understand and he comes to the conclusion that his love for Sora is just that, love.

The son…

And that he shouldn't question what he has become and just embrace what he cannot control.

And the Holy Spirit…

The Devil smiles victoriously as Roxas closes his eyes and ends with a prayer.