Riku lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He had a problem.
See, he was in love with his best friend. Had been for a while. No ifs or buts about it. He wasn't sure about his sexuality; all he knew was that Sora was simply his world.
But, his father would never allow it. No, his father was one of those manly men, who wouldn't accept Riku having a partner that didn't have a vagina. (Or a partner who didn't appreciate the use of antlers in all their decorating, but that was another issue altogether.)
And if his father didn't accept him, then he'd probably be thrown out. Or shot. Riku's father wasn't all that forgiving, and his pride was an ugly thing.
So, all there was to do… was to find himself a girlfriend. Hopefully one with chocolate-brown hair and eyes like sun on the sea… Riku hopped out of bed and stormed out into the street.
Long story short, Riku found a girl. She had the wrong hair, but her eyes were so strikingly similar that he could almost pretend it was Sora. Of course, after spending time with her, stroking her hair and listening to her troubles and protecting her from all the nasty people who seemed to be out to get the poor little girl for some reason, he grew to like her for her. And, he was finally able to remember her name; Xion. Which was much less awkward all around.
It was a hot summer night, and the two of them were making out on Xion's bed. She wasn't much like he imagined Sora would be; she lay there like a blow-up doll while he did most of the work.
Sora would be squirming around and demanding Riku let him—
Riku muffled a groan against Xion's neck. "Hey," he said, running his hands down her slender figure, fire clawing at his stomach, "is this okay?"
"Um," she said, flushing. Oh, she looked so good. "I… I have to say something first."
"Mm-hm," said Riku, slipping his fingers just inside her waistband, nipping at her throat.
"I—I—ah~ Rikuuuu," she moaned, fingers sliding though his hair. His breath was hot against her collarbone. "I—I—I have a condition—"
"Mm?" he said, trying to focus on her words. A condition? He'd promise anything right now. She slid her hands down his back, sending sparks down his spine, and placed them on his, where they rested on her hips. Slowly, they inch her waistband down lower and lower. Her breath hitched, and she closed her eyes.
"—It's called mixed gonadal dysgenesis," she said.