Title: the world's all wrong
Author: Digimon Empress Yaten (de yaten
Notes: Gift for my friend Heather, who gave me two prompts she wanted: "Axel—one last blaze of glory" and "Axel/Roxas—tickling, Roxas being sensitive." These two prompts somehow combined to give you this weird fic, which is ironically the longest fic I've written in a long time. Reviews are seriously appreciated, especially if you favorite! Nothing makes an author happier than reviews. Except maybe ice cream.
Warnings/Pairings: Axel/Roxas. Sexual situations, tickling being used as a kink (I guess that makes it warnable?) and a ridiculous amount of bad language. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or its characters. I don't claim to own them.
If he'd been in a little less pain, Axel might have grinned bitterly and thought about how the situation was just so damn not like him. At all.
Here he was, Axel the bastard, Axel the backstabbing son-of-a-bitch that turned on the Organization, Axel the psycho pyro who once hurled fire at Demyx just to see if it made steam - here he was, self-sacrificing himself for a Somebody that didn't give two-shits about him or Roxas or Nobodies in general.
Shit, he'd ripped through Demyx without a thought, and Demyx was probably (hell, scratch that probably) the most genuine of any of them. And probably the only one that really deserved a Heart, really, after all the things they'd done. Somehow Demyx managed to weasel his way out of most of the horrific missions, the missions that ended up with puddles of blood and hearts swarming to the World That Never Was. And on the rare occasion when Demyx had to rip the Heart out of some poor innocent person, he always spent an extraordinary amount of time afterwards crying and praying and sometimes portaling himself to a church and begging for forgiveness. And if there was such a thing as a higher power, it would probably see fit to reward Demyx with a new Life or maybe even a new Heart.
Lucky little fuck.
But anyway, back to the task at hand.
Axel was trying not to be pissed at the fact that this was not an appropriate death for him.
He wasn't supposed to be fading away, clinging to a face that was hidden behind someone else, mumbling some shit about Hearts and love and Roxas and - oh hell, why was he apologizing for hurting the stupid redhaired Naminé? He shouldn't have gone out with this little speech, this tiny whimper of undying love and fuck this, he wasn't supposed to grit his teeth and wish he could stay alive for just a little bit longer.
Just a short time ago - before Roxas and Sora and Demyx and even before the Organization - he'd been heading for that nice one-last-blaze-of-glory type of death. Or whatever you'd call it when a Nobody just went away. He'd think about it late at night, letting a cigarette burn until it singed his fingers, gave him a nice taste of what was to come. His death would be simply spectacular. He would go out kicking and screaming and giving the finger to whoever was in the nearby vicinity. Fuck life, fuck death, and a nice big double fuck to you, sir or madam!
Even joining the Organization didn't change that little fantasy much. It just added some new details to the dream. He'd have to take a few Nobodies down with him when he went. Or kill them first, whatever was more convenient at the time. And why not be a mean little backstabbing bastard in the meantime, and fuck with every damn one of the other Nobodies until he got them to act like they were angry or indignant or - this was usually reserved for Larxene - horny as all get-out.
It was a nice little game, a game with endless twists and turns that filled the hours and passed the time until he was ready to give that final fuck-you to the Worlds and Kingdom Hearts and especially Xemnas.
But then Roxas came.
At first, Roxas was Nothing. Quite literally nothing, because he was free from those shackling memories that held the rest of them down. He didn't recall that-one-time-when-my-mom-hit-me or when-the-heartless-came-i-ran-like-hell-straight-into-them or even anything as simple as who he was. Or who he wasn't , to be precise.
He didn't even pretend at having emotions, and even the holier-than-thou Xemnas did that, though he'd never admit it. But this kid never even smiled, which had unnerved Axel more than anything else in his entire non-life. They all smiled. Every damn one of them. Sure, they were usually "I'm-off-to-torture-children, toodle-oo" smiles or all-knowing smirks and Chesire Cat "I'm not telling you" grins, but they still smiled, damn it.
But Roxas was different, so very different, and it made Axel so curious for so long that one night, he forgot to think about his so-called-death. He had thought of Roxas, instead. Only Roxas. Roxas frowning at them all constantly and Roxas grimacing when Demyx threw a water balloon at him and Roxas growling when he pinned Demyx to the floor with his Keyblades a moment afterwards.
The very morning after, Roxas smiled for the first time. Over breakfast. For no reason.
It had to be a big-fucking-coincidence, because the small quirk of those pouty lips dissolved any realization of his lack-of-death daydreaming the night before. In fact, the small quirk of those pouty and probably smooth as fuck lips dissolved everything but the idea that they'd be pretty nice to kiss.
So he did. Why not?
Oh. Right.
Roxas wasn't exactly a nice little boy and he bit Axel and retreated to a world of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, with a huff and an "I-hate-you-fucking-pervert-cocksucker."
Little brat. And such a mouth on him, too.
Axel wondered if he should pull out his number rank and teach the thirteenth boy a lesson about respect. And potty-mouths. But Axel figured his own mouth was probably just as dirty and any time he got the inkling to get revenge, the image of that absolutely gorgeous smile flashed up and he could practically feel the baby-soft lips pressed against his own.
Well, damn it. That certainly put a kink in his plans of bringing down the Organization for the hell of it.
Axel thought about him ever night and kissed him every morning. It only took twenty-two bloody-tasting bowls of cereal for Roxas to cease biting.
Well, actually, Roxas still bit him sometimes - but only to discourage Axel's hands from wandering into the forbidden zones Roxas had laid out for him on day one of the no-biting-era. Never the stomach, the sides, or ass. Yes, you may blow me as much as you want, but Xemnas help you if you even think about touching my feet. Ever. Fucking seriously.
Axel had found out later what the hell was up with Roxas and his peculiar habit of making Axel blow him without so much as holding onto his boyish hips. It was an accident, really.
Axel snuck into Roxas' room and trailed his hands - accidentally, of course - over the boy's still feet, hard enough for Roxas to feel but too light to actually wake him up. It took only a few seconds for the absolutely-delightful reason for Roxas' odd behavior to show -- as Axel touched him, a smile crept onto the boy's lips. Then they parted in a giggle, and he began to squirm and his sleeping feet tried to kick at whatever was teasing them.
It was tempting, it really was. And at first, Axel resisted the way Roxas' writhing and giggling made heat pool in the bottom of his stomach.
That is, until a breathless string of Nononononono's bubbled past the sleeping lips in an octave much higher than normal and practically made him ruin his favorite pair of pajamas.
Axel didn't want to exploit this newfound discovery. Really, he didn't.
But he was too horny and too tempted with yet another mission alone together not to at least try to exploit it. He wasn't sure how that ill-placed skateboard found its way in Roxas' path, but however it happened, it resulted in a sore ankle and a pouting Roxas. And of course, with the Heartless gone and the sun setting in a clear sky, it was only logical for Axel to portal them to the beach and offer to use his very last Potion to heal the bruised ankle. Roxas didn't argue - he didn't know about Axel's late-night visit, because Axel is sure that if he had found out, he would be missing a very important appendage - and tensed his leg, expecting Axel to simply dump the potion on him and let it work its magic.
Roxas was going to have no such luck, because Axel promptly used the moment of tension to dump the Potion on one of his hands and hold Roxas' leg in a death grip. He had very lucky timing, because he began sliding the magic-slick fingers over the soft arch just as two Keyblades were summoned and promptly hurled to the sand when Roxas flopped limply on his back and screamed bloody murder.
Axel almost stopped then, but the image of Roxas beating him black and blue with a sparkly weapon served as a nice little warning for what would happen if the blonde got up any time soon.
Axel continued to run his fingers along the soft - and now slick, thanks to the Potion that still stuck to the skin - foot, and he wondered how the hell Roxas was able to get his voice that high for that long.
The scream had since dissolved into hard laughs and screeching giggles, and the occasional pitchy-whine and desperate inhale of breath. Strangely enough, Roxas didn't begin the death threats until Axel held the foot straight and began to scratch and fiddle with the taut pale toes. They might've been "you'll wish you were dead" threats, actually, but Axel found it hard to understand Roxas when he was babbling in between glass-shattering shrieks.
After twenty-two minutes, Axel had to stop and try to adjust himself to get in a more comfortable position. Unfortunately, it only took this split-second for Roxas to hurl a Keyblade into the back of Axel's head and knock the older man unconscious.
"Motherfucker!"
When Demyx found Axel passed out later that night, black and blue from head to toe, he silently vowed to never even think about teasing Roxas about his ticklishness again. And he would be as dumb as everyone thought he was if he asked Roxas what exactly Axel had done to receive such a beating –the flushed cheeks and missing boots were enough evidence to Demyx, and he didn't even press Axel on the issue once he had been healed up.
It had taken exactly twenty-two blow jobs and twenty-two nights of Axel being on bottom during sex for Roxas to formally forgive him in writing, although Axel guessed that Roxas may have started the forgiveness when he let the younger boy tickle him as much as he wanted for the entire night straight. Though it was surprising for both Axel and Roxas when Demyx had burst in the room and divulged that Axel was most ticklish behind his knees, and maybe Roxas should try that instead of his feet? Which he was, and Roxas did, but damn it, Axel hadn't planned on telling Roxas that.
But at least Roxas forgave him and let him trail along during missions, buying them ice cream or occasionally holding the boy to his chest in the rare moments that Roxas would slip into one of his sad moods. Well, not sad. And not a mood. But whatever it was called when Roxas would cry and sob with nightmares in the daytime about an island he didn't recognize being swallowed by darkness and a silver-haired boy he didn't know being corrupted bit-by-bit.
It was a morning when Roxas didn't bite him that Axel realized something was horribly wrong. Roxas had gone without biting before, of course, but this morning was strange and different and the kiss left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Roxas was kissing him like it was the last time, the last kiss they would ever share.
And Axel was fucked if he was going to let Roxas walk away like that, with a damned frown on his face and pretending like they hadn't been fucking and kissing and laughing and holding each other so tight it hurt for so long.
He found him preparing to leave on one of the rain-drenched streets and damn it, what had changed overnight and why wouldn't Roxas listen to him? The Organization didn't fuck around with traitors. He had seen to their deaths, before, and what made him think they wouldn't send someone after Roxas and have him killed?
"No one would be sad."
"That's not true! ... I would."
He had learned later from Demyx that Riku had happened. Riku had sought Roxas out and planted those seeds of doubt and lost memories in his once blissfully empty head. Roxas began to wonder about things he simply shouldn't, like why he had the Keyblades and those stupid islands and of course, Sora. Fucking Sora, who was going to ruin everything.
Why was Sora currently leaning into Axel's face like he didn't have a personal bubble?
Oh, right. He was dying. Or disappearing. Or something that involved him being there one minute and not being there the next.
And Sora was there, with - and Axel had to do a double-take to make sure - a frown on his lips. A perfect little tight-lipped frown that he saw twenty-two times in a row before crunching down some coppery cornflakes.
That tear in the corner of his eye had to be Roxas, no other explanation, because there was no chance in hell that the little Keyblade bearer was feeling any sorrow about him dying. He'd have run his Keyblade through Axel if given the chance - if Axel wasn't currently being turned into wispy trails of black smoke and darkness and wondering if a potion might clear this up, might give him a little more time, just enough time to see Roxas again.
He coughed and wished he couldn't hear Roxas' voice screaming his name when Sora murmured it, couldn't see Roxas crying behind a tear that just wouldn't fall, wished he could just raise his middle finger because it might make Roxas smile a bit and at least then he would be remembered as "the guy that flipped Sora off" and not "the guy that proclaimed his endless love for Roxas and just faded away."
Ah, fuck it.
At least Kairi would remember him as "the guy who threw her to Cerberus when she stomped on his foot."