Title: Secret
Prompt: Roxas & Axel -- Axel as girl, transsexual. Watching themselves having sex in a full-body mirror & sadomasochism.
Note: For my dearest roterhimmel.
She shudders again, as his mouth trails fire between her breasts, lips gazing up to tease a nipple. The thought makes bile rise in her throat, but she threads her fingers in his hair and murmurs something encouraging anyway, her eyes slipping shut.
Roxas' fingers are sliding between her legs, rubbing slow and reassuring. She twinges with wrongwrongwrong, forcing her body to relax, forcing her hands to stop trembling. He presses a kiss to her tattooed cheek, his blue eyes on the huge mirror facing the bed, watching their bodies twine. She knows he loves her long legs, her wide hips, her fiery hair.
But when she follows his gaze, the image almost makes her sick. She feels so disconnected from her body, like the terrifying folds between her legs aren't really hers, like those protrusions on her chest don't belong to her. For so long, she's bound them tight, hid her traitorous body in baggy clothing, and there it is reflected at her, naked and exposed and nothing like how she feels inside.
Roxas looks up at her, flushing, apologetic. He tries so hard to make it good for her, not even touching himself right now. Her smile is strained, but she'd never tell him what this feels like. He doesn't need to know.
She takes his wrist, pulls it away, trying not to think about the disgusting slime that coats his fingers. It's just lubrication, she tells herself, slicking her own trembling fingers as best she can.
She sits up now, pulling him into her lap, so his beautiful body hides most of hers in the reflection. She wraps long fingers around his cock, both their eyes now trained on their copies in the glass.
She strokes him, watches the muscles in his stomach tighten, feels heat rolling low in her own. She jerks faster, tasting the salt on his skin, listening to his laboured breathing, half-pretending she's doing this to herself, ashamed, aroused. Those two feelings never seem to be apart, for her.
One day she'll have someone cut her up, patch her together and make her a skin that fits, and then maybe Roxas won't want to touch her at all, any more. So she takes these moments, treasures them, tries to make this pain and discomfort into pleasure. Crystallise the memory of his flushed face, golden hair dark with sweat, his pupils blown and the pale column of his throat bared as he comes. She can't take her eyes off his cock in the mirror, emptying itself, shameful, arousing.
He nuzzles her jaw with his head, presses kisses there. "Sorry, I—next time. Next time, I promise, Lea."