Disclaimer: Disney and Square Enix own it all, though I wouldn't mind "renting" Xehanort for a while. He's just so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute – even when he's summoning his keyblade and yanking out hearts with it.

A/N: Damn it, just once I wanted to read Uke!Xehanort. Since no one else seemed to be writing it, it was up to me.

Xehanort couldn't stop the small cry that escaped his lips.

Despite his firm resolve to remain silent whenever Braig took him and show neither pleasure nor pain, he was never able to stop the cries and whimpers from escaping as the older man pounded into him. He cried out softly again and turned his head away, but the elder's calloused hand gripped him firmly by the turn and made him turn back.

"Look at me, Xehanort. This is the price we agreed on."

Xehanort swallowed hard against the bile that rose in the back of his throat and forced himself to look into Braig's face, to meet his single yellow eye. The other, as always, was covered by an eye patch.

It had been a simple agreement; Xehanort knew nothing about his past and wanted to know. Braig seemed to know him but wasn't forthcoming.

Hey, Mr. Master. Oh, come on, you don't even know your pal? Please tell me the amnesia was just a sick joke.

After repeated questions, which were answered with silent refusals, Braig had finally lost patience with the newest apprentice. His left hook had sent Xehanort flying across the library, where he had slumped to the floor in a corner, dazed and nursing a bloody nose and a burst upper lip. Braig had walked – no stalked – over to him, and Xehanort had looked up at him, shaking in sudden fright as the dark haired man loomed over him, clutching his fists like he was trying to stop himself from striking again.

After an endless length of time, in which Xehanort had expected to be beaten within an inch of his life, Braig had relaxed suddenly and knelt down in front of him.

"So you want to know?" he had asked quietly.

Hey, you're not... Terra, are you?

Hesitantly, wary of setting off the man's temper again, Xehanort had nodded, his wide, frightened brown eyes watching for the first hint that he was going to be hit again.

"I can tell you what you want to know, but are you gonna pay the price?"

Price? What price?

Braig had stood up, and pulled Xehanort to his feet with him. He had then led him quickly through the corridors of the castle to one of the many unused rooms in the basement. Xehanort had understood immediately; whatever Braig had planned, he didn't want them to be overheard. Braig grabbed him roughly by the arms, turned him so his back was to the older man, and he had closed his eyes when Braig reached around to unsnap his black pants and shoved them down to his calves, where they bunched up around the tops of his boots. He had then forced Xehanort down onto his hands and knees on the cold stone floor, and his lab coat was tossed up over his upper back, out of the way. A second later, he heard Braig unsnapping his own pants and felt the warmth of his body as he knelt behind him.

"This is the price, Xehanort." Braig had hissed in his ear "Are you prepared to pay it?"

Still shaking with barely suppressed terror, Xehanort had closed his eyes, prepared to refuse, but then, he paused. He HAD to know, and Braig had the answers, so he nodded, once. He could almost hear Braig's triumphant grin, and a waded up rag was stuffed in his mouth. He had no time to ponder what the rag was for, before the answer was given to him.

He had felt Braig grab him by the hips, and then pain had exploded in his lower body as Braig entered him in one swift thrust. Xehanort had screamed around the rag in his mouth and tried to get away, but Braig's firm grip on his hips kept him from doing so.

"You agreed to pay the price; no backing out now."

That first time had been agony, and when it was over, Braig had left him lying there crying on the floor of the empty storeroom, in a mess of shit, semen, and blood. It wasn't until several days later, when Xehanort was finally able to sit down normally (Which had caused no end of concerned questions from Master Ansem and the other apprentices.) that Braig had found him as he was readying for bed and told him simply that he had been a master swordsman. Then he had walked away, leaving the white haired man too stunned to reply.

A week or so after that, he had caught Xehanort working alone in the lab, pushed him down over the table he had been working at, and asked him if he was willing to pay, with an added "Don't worry, I won't be as rough this time. You might even enjoy it."

Xehanort had agreed, and that set the pattern for the next several months. Braig would find him whenever he was working alone somewhere, and, without any sort of warning, give him a quick, hard fucking before leaving as quickly as he had appeared. Within a few days, he would give Xehanort small snippets of information, such as the fact that his homeworld had been destroyed in a war and was now a barren wasteland*, or that he had no family left.

Sometimes the sex was rough and painful and other times it was almost gentle, but one thing never changed, and that was that Xehanort was never able to derive more than brief flickers of pleasure from it. It could be because, even though he was willing, his mind and heart recoiled in disgust at what was being done to him, at what he was allowing to be done to him. Whenever he was alone, the chances of being found and used by Braig were fairly high, and despite his desire for answers, he began sticking close to the other apprentices or to Master Ansem, hoping to catch a breather. But that hadn't worked, Braig had simply found him in his bedroom and fucked him repeatedly throughout the night, even as Xehanort begged him to leave him in peace so he could sleep.

It was the first time he had been late for breakfast since his recovery from whatever injuries had left him needing nearly around the clock care from Master Ansem, and later his surrogate father had taken him aside and gently asked him if everything was all right. Everyone had noticed that he had become tense and fearful of being alone, and under the concerned voice and kind eyes, Xehanort had almost blurted everything out. But then Braig had appeared, standing behind Master Ansem, and he had given Xehanort such a vicious glare, that promised pain if he said a word, that he only said that he was tired. It was clear that Master Ansem hadn't believed his lie, but further questioning got him nowhere, so he had let the subject drop.

That night at dinner, Braig regaled the table with a tale of a local woman that slept around with a man, and then later claimed that she had been used and abused, even though she was willing. The other apprentices (except for Ienzo, who had gone off to bed already) jeered and laughed at the 'whore" and her claims of innocence.

No one noticed Xehanort shrinking down into his chair, nor the warning glare that Braig sent him. The message was clear; no one would sympathize with him if he talked.

Which was how Xehanort found himself once more lying on his back on the lab table with his legs up in the air, and his pants, boots, and under garments discarded on the floor somewhere, as Braig fucked him deep and hard. After so many months of being used on a nearly daily basis, Xehanort seldom felt any pain, only when Braig was rougher than normal, and even that was easily bearable. The lab door was open, and he knew that anyone (especially the ever curious Ienzo) could walk in on them at any moment, but he knew that Braig didn't care. If someone did see them, he could easily spin the story so that all shame and blame fell on Xehanort.

He forced himself to keep his gaze of Braig's face, unable as always to stop his whimpering and crying as he felt the older man moving in and out of him. He knew that it would be over soon, and sure enough, Braig quickened his pace, followed shortly thereafter by a groan as he shuddered, and Xehanort cried out as he felt the hot rush of semen fill him.

Braig stood there for a moment, panting heavily, before he quickly and easily slipped out of Xehanort's limp form and used a corner of the younger's lab coat to clean himself up before tucking himself back into his pants and walking out of the room like nothing had happened.

Xehanort remained on the table where he had been left for another moment, and then he slowly sat up and stepped down to the floor and began to gather up his clothing and redress himself. As he did, he couldn't stop the tears that ran down his face or the soft sobs that made it past his lips.

OOOOOO

"Xehanort, what were you thinking? Have your memories returned?"

Xehanort looked at where Evan and Ienzo were lying collapsed on the lab floor, and then back at Braig, who was approaching him warily.

Oh yes, he remembered; he remembered everything. With an utterly blank expression on his face, he raised his right hand and summoned his keyblade. Braig raised his hands and jumped back in surprise as the fear in his eyes spoke volumes about how he had realized that maybe his treatment of the younger man had been a mistake.

With a triumphant smile on his face, Xehanort lunged at his former... assistant, intending to plant the keyblade in Braig's chest and extract his heart.

Oh yes, he was going to enjoy this.

*Technically, Terra-Xehanort was "born" at the Keyblade Graveyard, so Braig is telling the truth here.