Disclaim: Respective Characters are copyrighted to Squeenix and Tetsuya Nomura. I'm just a lowly fangirl and idol-worshipper.
A/N: This was a drabble on LJ for villanellekoi. She loves Zemyx. I'm not a big fan, but I'm warming up. 3
Suspicions were confirmed through jovial tunes and buoyant themes, those of which the lop-tress Nobody only gave a soft growl of displeasure. When the tune turned to something more … aristocratic, there was no such sound. In fact, there was no sound. The music was dead to him, and he would hear nothing of it, even as his fingers continued to move with sinuousness of both musician and one of the seas.
He would be the first to admit The Cloaked Schemer's habitual stillness was that of provocation. Even when the blonde tried to strike up playful conversation, he was usually gazed (or glared) at with vacancy, but that brilliant blue of his eyes was enough to draw him in.
And, those eyes were always blue. Both in color and in humor.
Zexion always seemed to have a certain despondency to him. Maybe it was just the way the male carried himself or the soft lips that never smiled companied with the thick black lashes striking out from the cerulean. And while Demyx hated to stare, he couldn't help but notice the shorter male's collarbone even had a curving sadness to it, though not at all in an unattractive manner.
In fact, he could just imagine his lips on the sharp juts of the bone, parting for teeth to the tender ivories to scrap at the skin. And he would follow that subtle contour of his muscles, flicking his tongue where there should be a pulse--could be a pulse, wished there was a pulse. Any dull thud to tell him he was alive.
When he was caught staring, he couldn't help that his cheeks lit up like chrysanthemums exchanged between lovers on … what was that Holiday called again? 'Chris-mas'? He'd only seen it passing by in a particular world.
But Zexion would never question him. Not his tinge, his prolonged gapes, or even the squeak he occasionally released when he was shaken from his state.
Only when the Superior Officer actually touched him was he not blearing into his face.
They were such short touches, too. Only enough to satisfy, only enough to compensate for what might temporarily be missing. Not awe-inducing or toe-curling. Just … enough.
And maybe just enough would be enough indeed.
It was after a twilit night, naiveté and knowledge brought forth in a mist and viscosity of what could be great if either one let it. Never after there encounters was there any more touching, and Demyx had learned to accept that, no matter how desperately--or, pseudo-desperately--he wanted to find something to hold onto, if only until the sun rose again.
"Can we stay like this forever?"
Zexion paused putting his mantle back on, freezing with the lips in hand and shoulders still bared into the air. Demyx noticed the marks on the alabaster flesh. Zexion noticed Demyx was not yet decent enough to become, well … decent.
"Only The Light and The Darkness are eternal."
"Xemnas says Nothingness is, as well." It was a calm chide. "Or should I call it 'The Nothingness'?"
It was supposed to be a playful mock, but one that got reprimand nonetheless. "Don't refer to his grace so depreciatively."
"But I don't appreciate too much about him in the first place."
Finally dressed, a gloved digit went to his lips. "He brought I to you, did he not?"
"I suppose." He hated to grit it out, temptation to teeth the finger on his lips growing.
Zexion noted it and withdrew. "Then show him some respect."
"Lady Luck's no friend of his."
"Of yours, then, you superstitious little boy?"
"'Ey, you're the one who's under four feet, kiddo." It warranted a growl, but nothing more.
There was a long pause, and finally Demyx felt awkward enough to begin to clothe himself, only to have the elder put his hands on his hips once again.
"As traitorous as I may sound, nothing is perpetual."
Demyx blinked when the elder went to his knees, something … he had never seen him do … He had never seen Zexion submit to anyone but The Superior. But that thought melted into harmony when there was a kiss to the curve of his bone structure.
"This is only a momentary influx. But I welcome the flood."