Proud to say I wrote this all in one sitting! Demyx was a lot of fun to write in my opinion, he always has been. There's a bit of a shocker in this chapter about halfway through and it's consistent with the story. Speaking of consistency, I hope you all pick up on the fact these events and years mentioned in Define Sin are all very precise and accurate with the actual ongoings. I had a few people comment on Jack the Ripper accuracy, including the victims mentioned, and it made me very happy to know there are other history fans out there. Look into these times, I picked them because they're really interesting points and are a lot of fun to work with. Enjoy!


Sin: Lust

Paris, France

February 14th, 1893

"Oi Cossette! Hang in there almost done!"

"I can see it! I see the head!"

"Eck! It's disgusting!"

As the dozen or so scantily clad women chirped like birds on a fencepost the young blonde one in bed cursed and cried into the rag clenched between her teeth. She fell back on the bed where an older woman held her shoulders, "Come on dear, almost there," she assured her, encouraging her just like the rest of the women.

"One more Cossette, one more," she heard the doctor and with the hope one more would end this agony she sat up and pushed till she felt like her entire body would rip apart. A laughing filled the room but the girls were silent, just like the mother who'd brought the bastard into the world. It was laughing to the shock of them all, but it was only the first shock the little blonde bastard would bring them.


"Mama Rosie!"

The cheer rang over the sound of the piano and the heavyset redheaded woman turned just in time to see the pride and joy of the cabaret spring down the stairs and run for her. She opened her arms and the blonde jumped up into them, "Carry me over the threshold mama Rosie! It's such a nice day!"

The woman laughed, "I'll do no such thing boy, you have two legs and a head on your shoulders." He laughed with a big grin as always, wrapping his arms around her neck and holding tight. She shrugged him off though and let go, "And ya' too old for that carrying nonsense."

"Aw be nice to him Rose! Here Demy I'll carry you if you want," another woman spoke up. The rehearsal was quickly slipping like the women's attention and the piano player gave up with a thump on the keys. The bastard, now 18 and still laughing, picked himself up and hurried over, "I'll be the one to carry you mama Coco!" Mama Rosie and mama Coco were only two of his so called 'mamas.' Every woman who worked around the red windmill and helped raise him was a mama too and he loved them all. Scooping up mama Coco was an easy task unlike it would be for Rosie and he spun her around before setting her down and leading her in a spinning dance. The laughter was contagious just like it had always been but it abruptly stopped when a banging alerted them all.

"Demyx, do not interrupt rehearsal. Just because you're late doesn't mean you need to announce your arrival."

"Cut 'im some slack Cossette, the boy had a long night I bet," spoke up mama Lily with a clear suggestion in her voice which caused a few snickers amongst the group.

Demyx shook his head though, "It's okay mama, it's my fault," he told Lily before looking up to the woman who was his actual mother, "Sorry Cossette, I overslept." She wasn't mama, she was the boss. After the death of her lover and the founder of the Moulin Rouge, Charles Zidler, in 1892 the dance hall was left in her care.

She didn't bother looking up from her book, instead just telling them all, "Get back to work. Long night or not, it doesn't excuse him." As everyone returned to their places in an attempt to resume rehearsal Rosie nudged Demyx out of his stare, "Dun look at her hon, may eat your soul." Demyx laughed a bit and joined the others, the only Y chromosome in a sea of X's. Hours whirled by and when blood started seeping into the cracks of the wooden floors, a sign toes in uncomfortable shoes were wearing thin, they were dismissed for the afternoon.

"Urg what a pain," Lily groaned as she sat down on the piano seat and untied her shoes. Demyx glanced over her shoulder and saw the tint of red stained to the soles in her shoes, cringing and turning to the piano instead, "Poor mama," he said while sitting down next to her on the bench. As his fingers caressed the ivory keys, prying notes from the instrument, a few other women joined them around the piano. Shoes were shed and corsets were loosened while he played them a tune to relax after the rough rehearsal.

"So Demy, who were the lucky girls last night?"

"Alice and her sister Lucy, then Jules, Nicole…and Marius," he said slowly, looking up at mama Coco with a smile. The look the women gave him wasn't a happy one, "What?"

"You saw another boy?" Lily asked, finally getting her shoes off and sitting up straight, "Your mother won't be happy."

"He paid well though, more than any of the girls before him. Besides, she's making money regardless of who pays to get in my bed," Demyx shrugged and continued to play the keys, looking down at his fingers as they effortlessly found the right notes, "You guys get to sleep with men all the time, why should I be any different?" he said jokingly and they all laughed.

"Leave the boy alone! Off and shower all of you!" Rosie clapped her hands to break up the group around the piano, acting as the responsible party as always. As they hurried off, shoes in hand, Demyx continued to play. He didn't have to rush like the other girls since he had separate quarters from them all which included a tub.

Rosie was about to follow the girls when she paused and turned back to the piano, "That's a pretty tune Demdem, where'd you learn that?"

"Sheet music Christian left me," he told her, fingers skipping a note when he realized his slip of tongue. He stopped playing as Rosie came back over to the piano. She put a hand under his chin and lifted his clearly embarrassed face up to see, "Demyx you know your mother doesn't like that kind of sin."

"Sin?" he scoffed and looked away, "This place is made of sin and flowers. It looks beautiful but we're all getting condemned in one way or another."

"Hey now, what kind of talk is that boy?" she said, letting go and putting her hands on her large hips.

Demyx smiled though and turned to her, "Don't worry about me mama Rosie, I'm fine."

"I'll worry about you since you clearly aren't," she insisted before closing the piano to prevent further playing, "…Bed who you want but be careful. The last thing you want to do is give fifty or so mothers a scare, believe me." Demyx didn't say anything but when she reached down to give him a hug he returned it tightly and held on.

"Demyx."

Demyx looked up the stairs but held onto Rosie, spotting his mother at the top. She didn't have to say anything and Rosie took her leave as the silence instructed. Demyx sat back down at the piano and ran a hand down the polished wood cover as his mother crossed the floor. "Give me that," she said, not needing to elaborate. Demyx didn't move right away, a sigh slowly escaping his lips as he fished down his shirt and pulled out a necklace. Before he could untie it Cossette ripped the charm off off, breaking the chain and bringing it to her face to see, "Hiding payment I see."

"It was a present," he told her.

"It is genuine diamond. A present like this is one you don't keep to yourself," as she pocketed the diamond she asked, "Which one gave it to you?"

"…Claudia," Demyx lied and the prolonged silence made it clear his mother knew better. Without another word he rose and headed for the stairs. He had a show to get ready for and a long evening after that.


"Christ! You're so beautiful!"

He didn't want compliments, he just wanted more. Sex wasn't enough and in a hellhole where it was fuck, be fucked, and satisfy. Leaving the exhausted girl in the room she'd paid for, Demyx straightened his clothes and went out in search of his second pick of the night. He needed someone who could do what the sleeping whore couldn't and he grabbed the first drunken foreigner he could find, hauling him away down the hall.

"Woah little man, where we going?"

Demyx ignored the question the drunk man rambled out and pushed open the door to his room, the one place he was sure none of his co-workers would visit. As soon as the door was shut he attempted to shove the larger man over but it proved impossible, "I see you're still somewhat sober."

"I'm good at holding my booze," the foreigner said. Was he Russian? It sounded less coarse and much clearer, had he traveled and lost it? Demyx didn't care where he was from though, "Why not try holding me instead?" he didn't want to waste time talking. He just wanted to quell the lust which haunted him every night, a task that took usually three to five girls with the occasional well paying man.

There was a skeptical silence at first but finally with a sigh the foreigner said, "…Eh hell, tried everything else. How much?"

"One-hundred francs," Demyx told him, already working to undo the buttons on the man's shirt.

"Not a cheap fuck eh?"

Demyx just grinned, "I'm worth it."


"Demy?"

A scarred body. Muscles firm under the corpse cold skin. A Cyclopes in all aspects, but one eye was all it took to see through him.

"Hey Demy!"

Sharp teeth. Large, rough, strong hands. A single Roman Numeral on his back, a black 1 ebbed in mystery. A weight on top of him which brought with it a horrible pleasure he couldn't deny.

"DEMYX!"

He looked up from the piano keys at Rosie, "Yes mama?"

"Don't 'mama' me boy," she said, "You've just been sitting there all morning. We need music you know!"

"Sorry, I'm on it," he quickly brought his focus in as rehearsal began, playing the notes effortlessly while his mind wandered.

Moaning like the whore he was underneath the foreigner he abandoned all dignity and composure if only for the sake of the attention. Every nerve in his body was alive and hot as he practically begged for more. Muscles and sensations he didn't know existed were now alive within him. For the first time it seemed like he was the one getting the attention rather than giving it. It left as quickly as it came though and Demyx woke up in his bed, alone, with money on the table.

It slowly occurred to him that his fingers had stopped moving and he looked up only to see others all staring at him impatiently. Though he looked for an explanation, he had none to give, "I'm sorry…I'm not feeling well." The benefit to having so many mothers came in the form of the worried faces, room service, frequent check-ins, all while he spent the afternoon in bed. The money on the desk had been taken by his mother but it didn't matter since it wasn't like he had any use for it. There was only one thing he needed, and the sheets still reeked of him.

"Demdem honey, there's someone here to see you. Says he's a friend," Demyx recognized mama Coco's voice but didn't bother getting up, instead pretending to be asleep so they'd go away and let him get over last night. Apparently they bought it because he heard her explain to the visitor that he was ill and needed to rest.

"That's fine, I'll just come back."

That voice!

"Not a cheap fuck eh?"

He quickly sat up and said, "I'm okay mama, he can come in!" Blaming his hasty reply on his sickness, Coco nodded and left Demyx and the foreigner alone. "What are you doing here?" Demyx asked after the door was shut.

"Lie back down," was all the foreigner said and Demyx complied, a surge of relief and excitement coursing through him as he was quickly joined on the bed. As the Russian leaned in and started to pull his clothes away he asked, "So Demdem's your name?"

Demyx didn't protest, in fact he pulled his shirt off himself to save time, "It's Demyx." The Cyclops wasted no time in breaching deep into him, "I'm Xigbar," was all he said. The distraction that haunted him all morning was in his bed again before noon and returned that evening as well, this continued for three days when everything abruptly came to an end on a cool February night.

"My birthday is tomorrow…Almost today technically I guess."

Xigbar looked down at him as he buttoned up his shirt. Demyx was still tangled in the sheets and mumbling in his state of exhaustion, "Happy birthday."

Demyx smiled and pulled the sheets tighter around his body, "You'll come again tonight right?"

"You're just trying to make me into a poor man," laughed Xigbar as he grabbed his jacket off the chair and pulled it on. Demyx saw him take the francs out of his wallet and drop them on the table. For the first time it occurred to him he had no idea where Xigbar's money came from, or why a one-eyed Russian was even visiting the Moulin, "I'm worth it."

"With pride like that I know someone you'd get along with well," Xigbar said with a scoff in his voice as he pocketed his wallet.

Curious Demyx tried to shake off his sleep as he hugged one of the many pillows to his chest, "Whossat?"

"…A co-worker."

"Oh? Where do you work?" Demyx asked through his exhaustion. When Xigbar didn't answer he opened his eyes and saw him staring out the rain splattered window in a dull daze. Propping himself up on his elbows, Demyx watched the Cyclops intently, "Xiggy?" Without another word he turned and headed for the door to Demyx's surprise, "Hey wait!" Xigbar stopped and looked back at him. Demyx didn't know what to say or ask, all he knew was that there was something more to him. A dark secret, "…Are you going to come tomorrow night?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth and it sent a slight shiver up Demyx's spine when he said, "If you do your job right."

And with that said he was gone. Demyx smiled contently and slumped back into bed as he pulled the sheets closer, the Russian's smell lingering and making him dizzy. A knock on the door kept him from drifting off to sleep; he feigned it though and hoped the person would just go away. When the knob turned though and he heard someone come in he sat up, "Get up Demyx." Cossette stood in the doorway and the expression on her face made it clear she knew what had gone on in the room. The smell of sex and nicotine was suffocating and she scowled, "Get up. The sun isn't up yet and you have work to do."

"I'm tired. The money is on the table," he said before falling back into bed. He'd earned enough for the evening in one run with the Russian Cyclops.

"There are girls asking for you. I'm not going to send well paying customers away," she hissed as she crossed to pick up the money, counting it out and noticing a leaf of paper fall out from between the bills. Demyx spotted it too but his mother didn't bother picking it up, instead ignoring it and telling him, "There's a Duchess. She'll pay well and if you do your job right she may-"

Demyx cut her off though and rolled over to face the wall, "You get paid to do a job. I haven't seen a quid of anything I earn."

Cossette didn't argue with him any further and on her way out of the room she told him, "Your foreign friend is going to cause you trouble if you keep seeing him…which is why I'm putting you on probation."

"What?!" Demyx sat up abruptly upon hearing the news but his mother left without an explanation. Probation…it was a sentence saved for those who were pregnant, ill, or injured. No rehearsal. No performing. No sex. The thought alone horrified him and he clutched the sheets tightly in his hands as it ran through his mind. No sex. He hadn't had a fuck-free night since he'd turned fifteen and he wasn't sure what normal people did during those hours. He could do it though, it couldn't be that hard. Just one night without sex, maybe more, it couldn't be that difficult right? A night without sweat; without sweet and ever-changing tastes. A night without hands to hold him in place and a night without hot kisses on his neck.

A shaky sigh slipped from his lips and Demyx hung his head which was quickly becoming heavy with those sorts of thoughts. A night with clothes and modesty was nothing he wanted. All he wanted was to hear heavy breaths colliding with his own while clinging to the sheets and shoulders of…His mind reeled at the thought and as he ran his tongue across his dry lips he resisted the urge. Quickly he remembered the paper that fell out of his pay and, using it as a distraction, Demyx got out of bed and picked it up off the floor. What had Xigbar left him? A naughty love note perhaps?

Get out.

Demyx was confused and looked on the reverse side for more but those two words were all there was to be seen. "Get out…Get out of what?" he didn't understand but he snapped out of thought when there was a knock on the door. He planned to ignore them but just as he was getting back into bed the door opened.

"Are you Demyx Puck?" He didn't say anything but when the man shut the door he knew he was in trouble. "I was told you're a whore," he was a client. His timing couldn't be more perfect. He'd defy his mother and satisfy his own torment, "Indeed I am. You have some use of my company?" he asked as he stood up, holding the sheets loosely around his form.

"Very much so," there was an underlying edge in his voice which made Demyx uncomfortable but he shook it off as he came over to the side of the bed, "Put your arms behind your back." Great, a bondage freak. He did as he was told though after letting go of the sheet, "This is going to cost you extra."

"You won't be needing that money where you're going," with his wrists tied all Demyx could do was shout for help, a technique which was cut short when a rag was tied over his mouth. Struggling and thrashing, a glimmer of hope arose when he heard the door open, looking over only to see two more unfamiliar men enter.

"The cars waiting, lets go!"

"This kid can't be much older than my own."

"You're sure this is the one?"

"Yeah! What if you grabbed the wrong one?"

What were they talking about? Demyx didn't understand and easily fell to his knees when shoved. He was still worn out from his rendezvous with Xigbar not too long ago and was nearly half the size of his captors. A cold hand rubbed across his throat though and the next thing they said caused a strange combination of nausea and arousal, "Why don't I test him out to be sure?"

"Hey, you can't do that!" Oh thank goodness, a voice of reason, Demyx thought until the man added, "No fair to the rest of us."

"What if the boss finds out though? She'll get pissed!"

"Think she'll listen to what this kid says? Come on, he's used to it anyway I'm sure." Shouting protests into the rag was a pointless effort to stop them, and Demyx quickly gave up as his body gave in. The situation, bad as it was, was something new and twisted; the entire thing spurring on a strange slur of desire he couldn't control. Within hours though, he would find his existence to be anything but pleasurable.

Lust.


…So anyone surprised to see Xigbar? I've had this concept in my head since coming up with sin origins way back at the start of the story. Never really got mentioned in the main story but that's the reason Demyx and Xigbar seem naturally close. There you have it. The story of the second youngest sin (115, second only to Sora) is slightly less morbid than that of Riku's but that's what makes them different. My next project is probably going to be Xigbar or Zexion, but I need to update Heaven's Light first since I'm significantly behind. Please let me know what you thought of this one. So far it seems you're enjoying the whole origin concept and they're fun to write too. Thanks for reading and as always I wish you all the best in all the world!

~Your loving bohemian, Mad-TopHat-Ter