A/N: All right, I know you're anxious for an update for MMS, and it will happen soon, but I couldn't help myself finishing this Kingdom Hearts fic. I had this idea for a year now and the idea finally hit me to finish it. I have this story up on my dA account--AshaKeres--so don't be like 'You stole this'. I talked it over with me and myself and we decided that I should post the fic here, too, lol
This is not a songfic, but there will be a selection of songs for each character that you can listen to while you read. If you don't own the songs or don't wish to download the songs, I do encourage reading the lyrics of the songs, as I feel the songs amplify each character's 'part'.
Sora: Unlovable by Darren Hayes
Riku: Scars by Papa Roach
Roxas: Alexithymia by Anberlin
Axel: Shoulda by Hinder
Warnings/Notes: Yaoi, some Yuri, Mature: lemons, sensuality, etc., AU, possible OOCness, written in First and Second POV
Disclaimer: No, that would defeat the purpose of writing this fic if I owned these characters.
Review if you have the urge to do so.
Enjoy!
They Don't Know You
By: Apherion
Part 1
Sora
I stared at you from afar, taking a measured sip of my coke. You had the stage to yourself for the moment, and you looked breathtaking. I felt that I was committing a sin staring at you so hungrily, but I knew I wasn't at the same time. I was only a spectator.
The people around me spoke in hushed, scandalized whispers as your partner danced her way onto the stage. You still commanded the attention of the audience. However, the audience murmured in agreement that you two were perfect for each other.
Your partner knew exactly how to touch you. She knew how to call forth those moans, as you knew how to elicit cries of pure ecstasy from her. I continued gazing at the scene, scowling at my peers now as they spoke about you. I concentrated on you, taking another drink from my coke. You looked like you were enjoying yourself while she looked as though she was having the ride of her life. But they don't know you.
When it was over, we all clapped. I stood up with everyone else, and watched how your costar politely exited stage left so you could have the stage, like you should. I watched you while you took several bows, and once, you paused and seemed to have looked my way. It was as if I had startled you, but you recovered quickly enough, exiting stage left soon after.
I heard several conversations after the play by the people I sat near. These people were only here because of the controversy. These people were friends of the real appreciators of art who had gone to enjoy a gripping tale between your character and your costar's.
"Can you believe that play?" One outraged man said to his wife as they and a few others walked from the theatre.
"I thought the play was all right, but honestly I can't believe they would allow this to be public!" A woman from within the party stated appalled.
"Can you believe that woman? Doesn't she know it's degrading?" The wife to the outraged man spoke in a shocked tone.
"That play should be scrapped for its content—it was absolutely sickening," said the husband to the appalled woman. I couldn't keep my mouth from saying it.
"I loved it." All of them looked at me with horrified eyes and hastened away.
I walked over to the car, noticing that the car was the last one in the lot, and pulled out a package of cigarettes. I grabbed one and lit it, inhaling the toxin only once before the doors to the theatre opened. I hurriedly dropped the smoke and snuffed it quickly as you approached me.
Your hair was wild tonight; tousled, long and silver. It made your green eyes look sinister in the light of the overhead streetlamp. You pressed me into the car, threading your fingers in to my hair and yanking my head back. Your lips brushed mine with heavy insistence, forcing my lips open with your tongue. You devoured the inside of my mouth, leaving my legs weak, and my hands clutching helplessly to your pullover.
"You've been smoking," you said with nonchalance as you broke the kiss. I ignored your statement, pouting. "You shouldn't you know?" You said to me with concern, giving me a sidelong glance. I rubbed against your hips. You took in a breath, extending your neck further out of your hoodie. I stood on my toes, kissing wetly under your jaw just behind the ear. I then blew on the kiss on your neck, earning me my back against the car's frame, your body pressing into mine.
"You shouldn't do that either," you cautioned me, purring into my ear. I ran my hand quickly underneath your hoodie, grazing the muscles of your stomach with my fingernails.
"Do you want me that bad?" You asked, as I traced a finger down your spine, tickling the small of your back. It was audible when your breathing hitched this time. I grinned, knowing the state you would be in.
"Yes," I answered simply, looking up at you from blue, blue eyes. "Don't you want to be inside of me—to feel how hot I am?" I rubbed against you to emphasize my words. "I know what you did in the play wasn't satisfying enough for you." I looked at you, seeing my handiwork. You looked about ready to have me on the hood of the car if I tempted you further. However, you pushed yourself away from me and grimaced.
"Get in," you grumbled, forcing open the door as I scampered to the passenger side. I was curious at your reaction. Had you grown tired of my antics already? I fumbled with the seatbelt once I was in the car, seeing your irritated expression out of the corner of my eye. You didn't speak, and I couldn't stand silence from you.
"What's wrong, Riku?" I asked turning towards you, wanting to hold you to me, despite that you were currently driving the vehicle.
"Hush, Sora," you said curtly, angry at me for something I couldn't know.
"Ngh," I bit my tongue, facing the window, frowning insecurely. I wish I knew what you were always thinking. I wish I could know everything. Even I don't know you.
I felt the car suddenly lurch to a stop. I blinked, looking around at you. You looked frustrated with yourself. Your green eyes looked over at me, and you deftly unbuckled your seatbelt, leaning across to me. Kissing me swiftly on the nose, and then on the mouth, you returned back to your seat and put the car in drive.
I sat dazed. Why had you done that? I kept thinking that as you drove us home. I giggled a little at that. We lived in the same apartment complex, not the same apartment, and yet I still referred to you and I and 'we' and 'us'. Pointless, I sighed, shaking my head. Someone like you can't live with someone like me. You've explained in detail before. We're both too headstrong, and we both want to be right all the time…and you like being on top while I prefer the bottom… I didn't understand why we couldn't.
"Sora, you okay? You look a little flustered." You grinned at me, as if reading my thoughts. You dragged me from the car, taking me on a piggy-back ride up the steps to the apartments. You looked over your shoulder at me, smiling devilishly. I knew the question you were about to ask, and I knew the answer I was more than willing to give. But instead of asking, you kept going to your room, as if I really did live with you.
You dropped me on the couch as you made your way to the kitchen, like I was a scarf or something frivolous that you liked to wear. I remember a poor excuse for a jacket that you absolutely loved wearing, that was until the day you got an extremely bad cold and the doctor's stole it away.
Still, I didn't land gracefully. My knees hung over the back of the couch while my head nearly touched the ground. I sat up indignantly, playfully.
"What was that for?" I called to you in the kitchen. You didn't say anything and I heard you clattering away in the kitchenette, as if you were making something. But at least I know you hate coffee; so did I.
When I went into the kitchen, I saw you clutching the sink as if it were your life-line, bent over it. I could hear your choked cries now.
"R-Riku I…I didn't mean it, I was just…" but you stood up straight, and glared at me. I looked at you, startled at how angry you were. Seeing my frightened face softened your look of disdain, but you looked at me with disappointment. You haven't ever given me that kind of a look before.
"Why did you come tonight, Sora?" I was taken aback.
"I always come for your performances! I've been to every one!" I didn't realize I was shouting until I had finished.
"But why did you wait for me tonight?" It hurt to hear that. What were you trying to get me to understand, Riku?
"I…I wanted to congratulate you…that's all…" my voice was quiet, soft. "You were going to be on a break for a while, weren't you?"
"Sora." You just looked at me. "Why do you always do that?" You were biting your lip, a nervous habit of yours, along with playing with your hair.
"Why do I always do what?" I all but screamed at you. "Why are you freaking out? Just because we can't live together doesn't mean we can't occasionally get together!"
"I don't want to get together!" You shouted back, tears in your closed eyes. I felt my own tears filling my eyes. My nose felt like it was burning.
"You…you can't mean that," I said, trying not to let the tears show in my voice, but I was failing at it miserably.
"I do."
"You…idiot!" I screamed, and my hand shot across your face. Your silver hair covered the cheek I slapped when your head moved with my hand. Still, before I could run, your hand seized my wrist, preventing my escape. I struggled to free my right arm from you, but you held fast.
"I'm moving, Sora. The break is for me to move, to allow me to get on with my life. I can move somewhere to start over. It's time that you do the same." Your voice was so steady, so cold.
"Why can't we start over together?" I asked you, an octave or two higher than I normally would have spoken.
"I can't start over with you! There is no starting 'us' over, Sora." I could feel the dams to my tear ducts beginning to burst. I fought hard to get out of your grip, but you just wouldn't let go.
I tried being quiet, letting the tears stream down my face. Slowly, I let you watch me break into pieces. No 'us', no 'we'. 'I'm moving, Sora.' You were just planning to leave me behind like this town. You didn't want me anymore. And you weren't trying to fix it, either.
As I cried, I tugged on my wrist, wishing you would let go of me. I wanted to cry alone right now because you weren't offering any comfort. No comfort; you were the pain I felt in my heart. You looked down at me, as I looked up at you, and I couldn't stop crying.
But I did see the anguished look on your face, and your grip slackened.
I pulled free of you, taking you aback when I shoved you backwards. You fell backwards, but I didn't look to see you fall onto the kitchen tile. I ran away from you without looking back.
You didn't even stop me this time.
Riku
I had everything packed, and I was ready to move to the Big Apple rather than living on the outskirts of the town with you. The movers showed up, packing everything that I owned into a truck, hauling it away while I was to follow behind in my car.
The apartment looked desolate now that I had removed my things from the room. I can still remember your smiling face as you came to greet me on my first day.
"You new here?" You asked grinning toothily at me from my open door. Your auburn-brown hair was sticking up in all directions as if you had just wrenched yourself from bed.
"Uh…yeah, just out of college," I replied, setting a box down labeled 'Scripts'. Your blue eyes were wide with amazement.
"Really—what's your degree?"
"Theatre." Your eyes were appreciative, admiring of my profession.
I can remember how torn your face had looked when you eyed me that first time. You seemed to want to continue our conversation, but you pulled out a packet of Koolz and walked away with a quick 'goodbye'.
I walked down to your apartment's number, and I raised a fist to knock. I leaned in, closer to the door, but then pulled away before my hand could hit the metal once. You were playing The Fray's CD. You knew how much I hated the group, so you had to be saying 'Stay away, Riku' by doing that.
"Hey Riku, we'll leave without you if you don't hurry!" One of the movers called to me. I didn't reply, staring at the door with the huge, golden plates that read one-four-nine. I turned away from your apartment, waltzing down the stairs and into my car.
I looked in the review one last time before I put the car in gear, steadily driving behind the loaded-down moving van. What had I really expected?
You were never one to intentionally hurt yourself, and I had done a better job than anyone in the past ninety-six hours. So why would you come see me off and wish me good luck? You would never do that. You would wait for me to come to you. You would wait for me to say 'I'm sorry' before saying it yourself. You always apologized, even if it wasn't your fault.
But this time was different. I screwed up worse than any other time before. I didn't even chase after you four days ago. Why didn't I chase after you? Because I stupidly thought we needed a clean break, and I was the only one who was willing to do what was necessary. I didn't secure happiness though; I think I might have ruined it for the both of us by doing what I did.
We drove steadily until we became cramped by the buildings and millions of pedestrians. Stopping every so often, with the occasional honk of the horn, I figured the movers and I had made good time. The movers had a different opinion about that, though.
"If people would just learn how to drive, traffic jams wouldn't exist." One said to the other, grinding his teeth as he helped his partner lift up my couch.
"Man, you know what I think?" The other said as they helped it out of the moving truck.
"No, what do you think?" The first asked, going for the bait. The other grunted as he shifted the weight of the couch a bit in his arms.
"I think…paradise is the only—you're falling on your end—place whose drivers meet that criterion." I directed them into my new apartment and told them where to set it. The two movers went back down for some of the boxes while I sat my collection of scripts down in a corner. A knock resounded on my open door, and I reeled backwards, experiencing déjà vu.
I thought it was you at first glance, but then I—was I disappointed that it wasn't you?—noticed he had blond hair. He has the same color eyes you do; blue like the ocean that appears to keep going for forever. He smiled and waved just before putting his headphones in his ears. His jogging suit was something you wouldn't be caught dead in. I would have categorized it in the nostalgic 1980's era with all of the terrycloth being worn.
I could easily imagine your reaction to this boy.
I followed him out of the doors, watching him run off to the left of the apartment complex. He was faster than you, not that it mattered. No, it didn't matter that he could run faster than you. All that mattered to me was that he looked like you.
I was starting to unpack by dinnertime, and the boy swung by my place, knocking politely on my open door before barging in. He had pizza in his hands, and he smiled happily at me.
"I thought you might need some help." He was friendly, and he set the pizza down on the coffee table that I had recently cleared of any boxes labeled 'Kitchen'.
"Sure, thanks. I'm Riku," I replied, giving him my hand to shake.
"Roxas, pleasure to meet you. Nice to see someone new and fresh in the building; I'm the only other 'young'," he made a face at the word, "tenant. Now I won't be the only one getting reprimanded by the old geezers that live here." He grinned at me, and I felt a stab shoot through my heart. I preferred your smile, but his would have to do.
"Hey, Roxas, do you want to do something tomorrow night?" He laughed and shook his head.
"I've got a prior engagement with the lovely Mrs. Kairi Wright," he said smoothly. I nodded, not expecting that. There was no ring on his left hand; you taught me to look before sticking my foot in my mouth. "However, Saturday night I'm free; what about you?"
"But I thought you…" I trailed off suggestively and he caught me off guard by giggling.
"Oh God no! She's just recently married her best friend, my older sister, Naminé," he glowed as he said it, as if he was really happy to have another sister. Maybe he really was, but I knew your take on siblings. You blamed your little brother for your parents' divorce, and you were so good at hiding your past. I think I was one of the few that actually are close to knowing you.
"I don't have any siblings. Must be nice," I whispered, tearing into the pepperoni and pineapple pizza that Roxas had brought. It was too bad, but you and I both preferred out fruit separate from other types of food. Come to think of it, the only pies you and I ever ate had been chocolate and pumpkin. I smiled genuinely at the memory.
"What?" Roxas asked as his cheeks turned a bit red because I had been staring. I looked away, shaking my head.
"Nothing," was all I replied with, and then I remember our plans for a 'date'. "I'm busy on Saturday. I'm supposed to get my lines for this play that will be put on in six weeks." He smiled at me, finishing his third slice of the Hawaiian-style pizza. He eats like you do, too, fast and discreet.
I couldn't understand why I was comparing this blond with your five foot, four and a quarter-inch self, but I could feel my heart twinge with just the very thought of never getting a chance to see you again.
"Well then, I'll come over after you've finished running lines. I've got to finish a painting for my gallery anyway," his smile didn't falter, and my heart hurt. You wanted nothing to do with the arts unless I was in them. My throat felt tight, constricted as I imagined you pursuing something in the artistic field without me. Why, why was I regretting what I had done?
"An artist, too?—what school?" I asked, sitting up, realizing that his face looked somewhat familiar. He blinked and cocked his head off to one side, smiling awkwardly. As he muttered embarrassedly which school he had attended, I choked on my slice of pizza. No wonder he looked familiar.
"You went…there…too?" I asked as coughed, trying to dislodge the piece stuck in my throat.
"Oh, wait—Riku Ukraine?" I nodded, smiling sheepishly myself. "Get out! It's been, how many years?" I thought, trying to remember back to high school.
I had gotten a scholarship to attend a leading art-theatre school for a year. I was sixteen, and I remembered vaguely seeing a boy that wore dark clothes that covered his body and had long, blond hair. However, there were always paintings of some male student interacting with multihued butterflies. My year there flew by, and I had only met the artist in passing. Roxas Trusse.
"A good seven at least," I replied, laughing. "You've cut your hair, I see." Roxas nodded, flicking a hand through the short, spiky mess of hair. It was kind of like yours.
"Yeah, I didn't find my look very appealing in college so I changed it up a bit. I still have a few of my sparkle hair clips though!" He winked at me, going into a fit of laughter. This boy laughed more than either of us did, and it was sort of refreshing.
I was really beginning to wish you had just stayed away from me. I had been doing fine until you waited for me after the show, and now all I could think about was you. You had that funny way of pissing me off. God, I hated it, but I knew I couldn't hate you.
"I'm in two-seventy-seven if you want to swing by for anything. I like coffee if it's before noon," he added cheekily, a wide grin plastered on his face. I laughed, I couldn't help it.
"I'll be sure to avoid you before noon then," I replied easily and he nodded, understanding my hatred for the bitter beverage.
"I'll see you Saturday night then?" He asked me just as he stepped outside of my apartment.
"Yeah, Saturday night," and he waved goodbye to me as I shut the door. You had never been so bold with me. I was shocked when you had asked me if I wanted to feel your heat. As I passed my radio, I turned it on. Loud.
Angrily, I picked up my pillow and I buried my face in it as I hit my bed. My tears came faster than I had expected, knowing you were lost to me now.
Roxas
When I got back into my apartment, I ran to my computer screen, hoping to see your instant messenger name. I didn't feel at all uneasy about meeting up with the new guy, Riku, but I was definitely anxious to hear from you again. How long had it been since we talked? At least a week—and you said you'd be home tonight.
I turned the volume on, and went into my little kitchen to scrounge for something sweet to eat. As I looked in the cupboards, nothing really caught my eye until I saw it: peanut butter. I skipped, grabbing the jar of Jif and stealing a spoon from the 'clean' side of the sink. I got two slices of white bread and dug into my protein meal.
I ate one and a half slices of the bread with maybe three huge teaspoons of the peanut butter before I declared myself unable to eat anymore. I closed the top to the Jif and threw it back into its respectable cupboard before I deposited the spoon I had used to dole out the amount of peanut butter on the 'dirty' side of the sink.
It was so delicious! But my good mood dampened as I saw that you hadn't signed in still, despite the onslaught of instant messaging windows buzzing me to return their messages. It was past ten; I switched my status to 'away', clicking on the internet browser shortcut.
An additional window popped up on my screen; your screen name flashing.
Axel Parks: Are you still there?
I blinked, looking at the message, my heart jumping into my throat, constricting my airways. Damn, I thought as I massaged my chest momentarily. I began to type.
Roxas Trusse: …why don't you sign in under 'available' anymore?
Axel Parks: Because it's too much of a bother, you should do it more often.
Roxas Trusse: But then we couldn't talk because neither one of us would know if the other's online.
Axel Parks: So you did miss me!
I felt heat creep into my cheeks. Of course I did, you idiot, I thought, typing out my next statement.
Roxas Trusse: Why can't you ask things straight out?
Axel Parks: It's more fun for me.
Roxas Trusse: Joy.
Axel Parks: Quite being a baby. You missed me and you know it.
Ass, I thought. I hit the return button on the keyboard.
Roxas Trusse: No one missed your sorry ass—I got to eat everything I ordered.
Axel Parks: That's not fair—I wasn't on the menu.
The heat spread over my arms now, threatening to engulf my entire body. I had a feeling we were going to do it again, but I wasn't in the mood for it by myself.
Roxas Trusse: Why would I want to eat you? grins
Axel Parks: You've missed a week of my…
Roxas Trusse: I know, I just wish I could see you face to face right now.
There was a pause for a moment in your reply, but I saw the indicator at the bottom of the window saying you were typing your message. I closed out of the web browser, and pulled up a game of solitaire—Vegas style—waiting for your response.
Axel Parks: You really want to see me that bad?
Roxas Trusse: I'd be in a cab to see you right now if I knew the way.
Axel Parks: You know I'm on the outskirts of the city, right?
Roxas Trusse: You give me the directions and you'll be begging for me to leave you alone, but I'm sure after a long week of work the last thing you want to be is alone.
'Axel Parks is typing a message.' I sighed, waiting for the rejection, anticipating the information I needed to alleviate my own need. You were taking your time replying to the undoubtedly tempting offer.
Axel Parks: Apartment 111 on Cherry Avenue; I think it's somewhere between twelve to eighteen blocks away from the city.
Roxas Trusse: I'll see you in a few.
I didn't wait for you to reply. I closed out of the messenger and I grabbed a coat from my closet. I then stuffed my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans, running out of the door.
I distinctly heard Riku blasting what sounded like Bullet for My Valentine. I wasn't trying to hear the lyrics as I rushed past the door, but my own filled my head as I breached the exit.
I flagged down a cab, telling him the address. The man eyed me for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. It wasn't any of his business what I was doing. He didn't say anything either, but I think it was due to the fact that he spoke little English.
It took the cabbie at least fifteen minutes to navigate through the traffic always polluting New York City. The ride became smoother once we had left the city's clutches. I stared at every street sign, looking for the sweet, small fruit's name. Red, like your hair, and just as tasty—but I hoped that you were even better than a cherry.
When the cab turned onto the avenue, my throat became dry. I was really about to do this with someone I'd only known online. My stomach clenched convulsively from nerves. I had only acted on impulse—for all I knew, you could be some crazy person. But you had looked sane enough on your web cam. Maybe you were worried about the same thing, and maybe I was blowing this out of proportion.
"We here," said the cabbie in broken English as the cab pulled to a stop in front of the apartment of Cherry Avenue. I handed him the necessary amount of money and got out, clutching the coat tighter to my frame. It was summer, but it still got cold out at night.
I ran up the steps, and knocked on the door of one-eleven Cherry Avenue. I heard shackles being removed from their respected places and the doorknob twist. You opened the door wide enough to let me in, your emerald eyes dancing in the light coming from the eaves.
"Roxas," you whispered huskily as I shakily took a step to come inside. You let me pass, eyes hungrier than I had been when I devoured the pizza I shared with Riku. My stomach knotted uncomfortably, waiting to see what you would do.
You just shut the door, however, and I watched you, feeling awkward. I shouldn't have come, I realized a little too late. When you turned back around after reattaching all of the locks, you were smiling at me. Your hand closed around mine, and I stiffened from the contact, a little shocked. Your fingers massaged that hand with expertise, and I couldn't help contradicting my earlier thought.
"I'm glad I came," I said, looking into your bright eyes. You smiled warmly, your red hair curving to fit your frame. I reached for it with my free hand, letting the silky, red tresses slip softly through my fingers. The light coming from the sitting room further down the hall cast an eerie glow on it, making it appear more crimson.
"Your hair's longer," I commented as I petted it affectionately, unconsciously stepping closer to you. Your free hand dove into mine, tugging at it slightly, making me look up to you.
"You've cut yours again." I smiled sheepishly, blushing a bit.
"Yeah, I—" Lips converged on mine, stopping speech, stopping all thoughts except for one. Hot and heavy, I could feel your tongue brushing along my lips. Your hand let go of mine to encircle my waist. I inhaled deeply through my nose; a mixture of sweat and Old Spice assaulted my senses. I felt dizzy, and my hand fell from your hair to grip against your neck.
You pulled back slightly, green eyes searching my blue before your hands moved to my chest, slipping underneath my coat sleeves, effectively stripping me of the warm article. You nipped against my neck, sucking against my windpipe. I gasped audibly, and I felt you smirk as your dexterous fingers unbuttoned my white shirt.
You forced me against the wall then. Your hot lips covered mine, your tongue pushing past my lips and teeth, searching for mine. I felt my heart race as your hands roughly felt my skin, bruising it a bit. Your tongue wrapped around mine, tugging on it gently while your lips continued to dip across mine possessively. Your hands pressed firmly against my abs, raking down the flesh until you reached your goal.
I arched into you, moaning as your hand touched me through my jeans. It'd been a long time since I had help, and I shook out of anticipation—fear—as you wasted no time in pulling the denim off of my hips.
You knelt at my feet, untying my shoelaces slowly, methodically, as if to keep yourself in check. My Reeboks were taken off with the same steadiness, right then left. Now you got me out of my jeans, casting the BKEs off to the side.
I breathed spastically and I looked up at the ceiling. I felt your hands sliding up and down, up and down, my calves and then my thighs. My breathing hitched when you breathed against the cloth separating you from my becoming-painful erection. You got closer, and my eyes were glued to whatever was above me. Your hands massaged the back of my thighs, and my knees buckled as your fingers slid in and out of my boxers.
You breathed hard against my stomach, pressing your lips on the hot flesh just above the waistband of my shorts. Your tongue darted along the seam, and my hands were searching for something to grab onto. I didn't scream when you licked a line to my belly button and blew against it, making me harder than necessary, but I gave up on being quiet.
"Oh Axel, please…oh…please," I begged, moaning your name in hopes this would give you a hint. No, you didn't catch on. Instead, your tongue—that evil tongue—licked on the inside of my thigh. I felt your hand push up against the shorts in order to give yourself more torture room, and your lips began marking my flesh, making me plead.
"S-stop…n-not f-fair," I cried as you bit the abused flesh by the leg's carotid artery. You massaged the area with your thumb as you replied.
"I think it is. You won't look at me." I bit my lip. The last man I'd been with didn't want me to look at him. He was jealous that I looked 'prettier' during sex. I felt you tug at the shorts, and you pulled them off of me. I looked down at as you lifted my right foot and then my left, tossing the boxers elsewhere.
I watched you lick two of your fingers as if you were licking Cool Whip from them, before I felt the sharp contrast of cold and hot. I swallowed with difficulty as you slowly trailed your fingers down me, to the tip, where your lips waited, eyes looking up at me with a glimmer of lust.
You took me into your mouth, hot, undiluted moisture teasing against my sex. I gasped, arching my head to the point where I couldn't see you anymore. You didn't move, and you held my hips. You wanted me to watch you, always watch you. So I did.
Your emerald eyes were closed as you sucked against my flesh, your tongue licking sensually against the underside. Your hands had dug into my skin, holding me back from thrusting into your decadent mouth. I was close and you knew it.
You pulled away, yanking on my shoulder to pull me down to you. Sexed lips forced me into submission, and I could still taste me on you. You broke the kiss, and without words ordered me to suck on your index and middle fingers. I closed my eyes, my tongue laving at the appendages, making them slick with a mixture of my essence and saliva.
You stood up, freed your fingers from my mouth, and your lips bruised mine. I could still feel the pressure as you prepared me for something I hadn't done in so long. Your other hand was caressing my leg as you lifted it to wrap around your waist. I moaned as you kissed me fiercely, hungrily. I arched heavily into your touch, wanting nothing more than to let you have your way with me, and let you have me hard.
When you withdrew your fingers, that hand helped my leg around your waist, as you carefully balanced me between you and the wall. No fear now, just high anticipation—I hadn't done this against a wall.
"Hey blondie," you panted into my ear. I could hear you laughing. "What now?"
"What d'you…mean…'what now'?" I asked breathlessly. You chuckled darkly, with just the slightest hitch.
"I…wanna hear it, Roxy," you whispered darkly, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Hear…what?" I gasped. My body ached to feel this again, and you were prolonging the wait because you wanted to 'hear' something.
"You know what—say it." I didn't want to say it. I hated saying it.
"Say what?" I tried pulling you closer to me by tightening my legs around your waist. You didn't budge, but a hand of yours got terribly close to touching me, teasing me as you spoke.
"Don't play coy, dammit—say it," you growled at me, your fingers tickling the area around my hard erection. I could feel yours at my entrance, and if only I could shift my hips just a little further down… I caved, seething at being forced to say it.
"Fuck me," I hissed, blushing uncontrollably. And you did.
You pushed into me, letting me meet your hard thrust. I winced, but only because of your size. I held you with my legs, while you pinned me with a perfectly angled motion to the wall. My hands wrapped around your shoulders, and I leaned into you as you pulled out. I slide down on you and you guided my hips back up as you pulled out again.
Slowly, you started to increase the friction between us, your hands forcing me onto you faster, harder. I clenched around you as the speed built, my arousal rubbing painfully hard against your shirt. Your nose nudged against mine until your lips could latch onto their opposites in a sloppy kiss. The wetness exchanged between our tongues had me begging for more.
You shifted your hips upwards just a little bit more just as one of your hands grasped my erection. I clenched around you harder this time, seeing stars blossom in the blackness. Your slow strokes on my member contrasted deeply with the hard ones you were making inside of me. It was too much.
"Look," you panted, daring not to stop. I obeyed you, flushed from the sex. I saw how the light worked over your form and your eyes blazed while your hand pumped against my aching flesh and the deep thrusts you were making just right had me begging for release.
Your hand grew tighter around me, working over the skin with haste as you pounded me against the wall. My entire body tensed and I held onto you for support. The taut coil inside of me broke, and I came into your hand. As I shuddered against you, your thrusts were deeper, your knuckles turned white as you forced my hips harder against you as you sought your release.
And when you had, you didn't pull out of me; we just slumped against the wall, breathing hard and riding out the remains of our climaxes.
'There's more to living than being alive.'
This had to be what the song meant. I could live, breathe, eat, sleep, but I couldn't experience this without you.
"Do you have anything to do tomorrow?" You breath was hot against my throat. I couldn't care less what Kairi would do to me for being late.
"No." I lied.
Axel
I helped you out of bed the next morning. You looked so cute, so damn fuck-able it shouldn't have been allowed. But I digress; you hit me twice, square in the jaw for being rough and, I quote, "provocative". I shrugged because you didn't hit that hard, and I whispered several things in your ear that had you smacking me as I carried you into the bathroom.
"I'll drop you," I threatened teasingly. Your wounded glare had me laughing.
"Do it and see what happens," I shrugged, still laughing. I knew I'd get at least a ten-minute head start.
I set you on the sink as I ran the water. I could feel your glare on my back the entire time as I adjusted the water's temperature. I smiled cheekily over my shoulder at you, but you folded your arms over your bare chest, blond hair flopping over those oceanic eyes of yours.
Ah, those eyes; I could still feel the heat they possessed at four twenty-one this morning. So delicious, I thought, running my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. I could still taste you, too. Soft and delicate, but ever still a man, pride and all.
I snaked an arm around your waist to help you limp into the tub. I shook my head at you, grinning at how abused you were after going all night.
"It's your fault that I'm like this," you muttered, as you relaxed into the warm caress of the water. I ruffled your hair, and whispered in a chastising tone in your ear.
"No, blondie, last night was all you. You invited yourself over, you seduced me in the doorway, and you all but screamed 'fuck me through the wall'…" I trailed off, grinning. I caught your fist before it slammed into my face for a third time.
"Don't patronize me! And I did not seduce you in the doorway!"
"Like hell you didn't," I said, flashing a Cheshire grin at you. "I love awkward boys." Your face turned an odd shade of purple and you sunk below the water, bubbles burbling up as you exhaled your embarrassment.
I left the room then to scrounge the kitchen for something edible. I was even debating taking you to my favorite little restaurant for lunch. My stove's clock said it was eleven fifty. I opened the refrigerator and stared inside. I snagged one of the beers in there, twisted off the cap, and downed half the alcohol in one. I went into a cupboard and dug my hand into some Doritos, munching until you were tired of your bath.
But that didn't take long. You were in the kitchen before I finished the beer.
I looked at you, surprised. I was just proud that you could still walk under your own power. You said last night that you hadn't had sex in a few years.
"What happened to the bath?" I asked you, your hair sopping wet and you were clutching the towel around your waist; I figured your outrageous masculinity complex prevented you from clutching it to your chest like a girl would have done. Your blue eyes faded out of sight beneath blond spikes dripping sexily down your face. You were speaking to the floor when you answered.
"You didn't…" you coughed, and I could feel the heat radiating off of you. I couldn't stop myself from wrapping my arms tightly around your smaller form. You were extremely wet still, but I needed a shower anyway. Why not kill two birds with one stone?
"Well then, since you're so eager to bathe me—" Wham! I massaged my face for the third time that morning. "Dammit Roxas, stop hitting me."
"Then quit having a go at me every God—"
"Language!" I shouted. He stopped abruptly and started laughing.
"You're one to talk! Lecturing me on language, my ass," you grumbled with your head on my chest. I couldn't control the impulse.
"Yeah, and I'll have that on a silver platter the next time you try to say that." I relished the shiver that racked your form from my menacing tone. "So let's go have that bath!" I said cheerily, laughing at your squeak of surprise when I bodily lifted you off of your feet.
Bath time with you was nice. I felt like a kid again, splashing you in the face, while you tried strangling me for the umpteenth time. I liked it.
My spirits were only dampened because you simply refused to let me try anything on you. Well, to be fair, you were the one putting moves on me and I was reminding you that you had to see your sister-in-law for dinner (you had confessed earlier this morning that you had to go), and I wasn't going to let you be late.
My virtue that doubled as a vice was my punctuality.
I tended to have twitching fits when I was late, or if anyone was late on account of me. There's no reason for them, but I can't help it when I need to be somewhere at nine o'clock and it's three minutes past as I'm rushing in the door. It was more my style to show up ridiculously early to things.
We toweled off, and I let you borrow some of my clothes. I was going to take you to the little sandwich shop I frequented. I searched for a small anything, but the closest things I got to your size were a pair of shorts that I hadn't worn since I hit my growth spurt and a medium-sized shirt that I think my older brother had left by accident. After further inspection of the shirt, it really was mine.
I handed you the articles of clothing, and you spluttered at the shirt. I rolled my eyes and told you to put them on, hiding my smirk. Your glare made it almost impossible to not smile, but somehow I managed to keep my lips for forming the curved line. You looked at yourself in the mirror, still in a state of undress, and I bit my lips to keep from smiling.
You rounded on me as though I had just stolen your favorite candy from you. I was laughing too hard to notice that you'd tackled me.
"Do you even know what this shirt says?" You yelled at me, punching every inch of my body that was in your reach. I couldn't stop laughing.
"Yeah, I do, now…shut up and…put on your pants," I gasped, feeling a stitch forming in my side from lack of oxygen. The hard glare you shot me sent me into another raucous peel of laughter.
I think that was the first time I was slapped by a boy.
After I had managed to stop laughing and stem the flow of my bleeding lip—you were holding back earlier, I was sure of it—you and I made our way to lunch; albeit, slower than the usual ten minute walk.
"People are staring at me!" You hissed as you ducked behind your menu. I coughed to cover my laugh. Of course they'd be staring at you, that shirt was one that I probably should've thrown out after my rebellious stage. I remembered wearing it to school, earning me a record twelve trips to the office in one day and detention for a month.
"I'm sorry, blondie, but I don't own shirts your size." Your eyes glowered over the top of the menu. I didn't need to add that you were going to have to deal with it. You muttered something under your breath.
Our waitress walked up calmly, pen and pad of paper in her hand. I recognized her immediately without the help of her nametag.
"Axel," she greeted cheerily, her frowning face lit into a smile. Her dark brown eyes glanced at you, and her grin widened. "Who's your friend?" She asked me, nudging my shoulder with her elbow.
"Tiffany," I replied, my voice just as happy. "This is Roxas," I gestured to you, and then I motioned back at Tiffany. "Roxas, Tiffany," I said, providing proper introductions. Tiffany and you shook hands, and I smiled at that.
"It's nice to see Axel with someone that looks normal." You gave me a wide-eyed look.
"He's not my first 'normal' one, Tiff," I said grudgingly. "Just my first blond." Tiffany shook her head and proceeded to inform you about what she meant.
"You don't wear make-up, that's what makes you normal," she explained, and your raised your eyebrows at me. I shrugged.
"Can you blame me for thinking eyeliner is hot?"
"On girls, Axe—not on guys!"
"Liar, you said it yourself that Johnny Depp looked damn good as Captain Jack Sparrow!" You laughed, and Tiffany blushed, but she recovered quickly.
"What can I get you boys today?"
"I'll have the usual," I said, and Tiffany jotted it down while announcing:
"One suicidio muerto and what about you, brave one?" You squawked at the sexual look she sent you. I fought to keep my smile only a smile.
"What the hell is a 'suicide-o moor-toe'?" You asked me. Tiffany started laughing because you butchered the Spanish language.
"It's a—Tiffany, can it already—Tabasco broiled burger with pepper-jack cheese, jalapenos, and their 'special' hot sauce." You made a face, scrunching your eyes and nose.
"Ick," you exclaimed, "how do you eat that stuff?"
"So you'll…" Tiffany gasped for air, "be having a BLT or the like, right?" You nodded fervently.
"BLT with cheese," you said relief coloring your tone. I guess you were afraid that I took you somewhere where only volcanic things could be ordered. Like I would…okay, so I would, but I wouldn't have done that to you on our first outing.
Lunch went like it should, and we went back to my apartment, where I continued to tease you.
"What wrong with a little—" You clamped your hand over my mouth.
"I'm wearing this," you tugged angrily at my shirt, "I'm not listening to anything dirty from you!" I turned the tables on you, pinning you underneath me to my bed.
"You didn't seem to mind it last night." Your face darkened and you tried to throw me off of you; however, your attempt was in vain. I still held your wrists and I leaned forward just a little, connecting us together briefly in a soft kiss. When I pulled back, you licked you lips, looking famished.
"No, you said you and your sister-in-law had dinner plans." You scowled.
"Screw dinner," you said, and I couldn't help kissing you again.
"I'll screw you," I whispered huskily against the shell of your ear. You arched into me, and glared at me.
"I wish you would," you said darkly.
"But, I can't," I said in a happily exasperated tone, pulling away from you. You slithered out from under me, pulling on your shoes and grabbing your coat.
"I'll get my clothes from you later, okay?" You said with a smile back on your lips. Your golden spikes were a little tousled, and your jacket almost covered the saying that I should've retired a long time ago. I kissed your cheek before you left, and when I shut the door, I couldn't stop laughing.
I hadn't seen that shirt for years. Vaseline: it's not just for dry skin. I still think I should've gotten rid of it, I thought as I dragged myself back into my bedroom. I fell into my bed, exhausted and missing your warmth.
The telephone's ring jerked me from my sleeping state. I looked groggily at the clock, reading nine thirty-three at night. I sighed and yanked the phone off its hook.
"'S Axel…wassup?" I slurred into the phone.
"Axel, it's Roxas…what's wrong? Are you okay?" Your concerned voice fell on my ear, waking me more sufficiently than the phone's ring had.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay, I was asleep. That's all." You giggled nervously, before plowing on.
"Well, I just got back from being with Kairi…and I just wanted to call you." I couldn't help the smile that lit my face, and I sat up in bed, listening to your breathing.
"How was that?" I asked, trying to sound as if being with a sister-in-law would be the worst thing.
"It was great! We went and watched a movie together and then we had dinner at Shay's…" you trailed off, getting a hold of how excited you sounded. I grinned more; your masculinity complex was crippling you again. "What did you do?"
"I slept," I said gently yawning.
"Well…I'll let you get back to that," and I unconsciously nodded, feeling my eyes slipping close of their own accord. "I love you," you whispered. Whatever part of me was asleep wasn't anymore. I could feel the pressure of the room smashing against me, fully bringing me into reality. I felt my heart squeeze. I didn't breathe, not feeling my hand on the phone.
There was a pause from you before the line went dead.
TBC...