Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
A/N: Written for AkitoTsubaki on kh_request over on LJ. She asked for Roxas x Axel, to the prompt(s): mirror/lingerie/from behind. This is the result.
Contradictions
There was something about this that seemed to contradict their very being, if one could actually say they were in such a state, considering they had only dark and endless pits where their hearts should have been.
Axel cocked his head to the side and looked Roxas up and down. The little pretty boy was clad in pristine white lingerie, lace and ruffles and garters and all, currently looking himself over in the full length mirror in his quarters. Axel watched helplessly as the honey-blond groped at his own crotch, shifting the sizable bulge about in the tight confines of the frilly underwear.
Roxas caught the stare in the reflection – those entranced green eyes, the visible bob of the Adam's apple as the pyromaniac swallowed hard to wet his insanely dry throat – and grinned. "Turn around," he told his lover (if that was what one could actually call the two, considering they were incapable of love, only lust and fucking and other things that burned too hot for anyone to hold for too long).
When Axel hesitated, Roxas repeated a little sterner, "turn around." Then he watched the reflection of his sort-of-lover turn around and clench and unclench his hands together in periodic fits of agitation. He loved being able to get under Axel's skin like that.
And then he walked over, slow and quiet and with a cat-like stride. He pressed his forehead to Axel's back, ran his hands up to the collar of the overcoat that was already hanging open, waiting to be shed like a useless, dead skin. The coat came off and Roxas pressed his lips to Axel's shoulder blades, one at a time, then moved lower until his kisses were dangerously close to Axel's ass.
Smirking, he gave Axel the little push he needed to cause him to buckle, to bend over and use the bed for support as Roxas worked the pants undone. From there, he ground his lacy hips against Axel's bared flesh and reveled in the way the older Nobody hissed in pleasure, begging for more from his pretty little boy. And he would get more – little by little. With every plead, the lace would come off, with every urgent hiss of Roxas' name, more flesh would be bared until there was nothing between them, until they were inseparable and a tangled heap of sweat-soaked limbs on the bedroom floor.