Happy AkuRoku day, everybody! I know that I've sort of gone on an unofficial hiatus, but I simply couldn't ignore AkuRoku day. I actually started writing this cause I was pissed at the church and the religious loons I have for parents that force me to go, and there actually is somebody on the worship team who I shit you not is just like Axel. But yeah, the inspiration for this just happened to fall around the right time, so I figured WHY NOT, LET'S FINISH THIS ONE ON TIME FOR ONCE.

Hope you enjoy, and have a good 8/13. Grab your favorite blonde/redhead and watch the meteor shower or something.

The first time Roxas saw Axel, he was standing at the altar.

Not as in a wedding altar, but a literal alter. You know, where your priest or your pastor or minister or whoever stands during church. This particular one was more of a stage, really. A raised platform of hard wood stretching wall to wall, amplifiers on either side that blended in perfectly behind faux limestone columns, and a massive organ on the backmost wall were all included in the ordeal.

Now before we get too carried away, let's learn a little bit about Roxas. Roxas was the last person you'd ever expect to see at a church. At the ripe, rebellious age of seventeen years old, Roxas had done perhaps not all, but a great number of things the bible told one specifically not to do. He had multiple tattoos marking his body, along with self-harming scars; he also partied like an animal, lied to his mother about it (on the occasion she decided to try to make him behave) and he frequently had sex with hot boys.

Had Roxas always been bad? Pretty much, yeah. He and his mom had been on their own as long as he could remember. Most of his young memories included: moving from ghetto neighborhood to ghetto neighborhood, learning how to bar doors and cut face, running from the cops, and hiding his head under the pillow as he strained to not hear his mother prostituting herself during the wee hours of the morning. By the time he was twelve, he knew the only reason he still went to school was because mom was a drug dealer and a whore. By the time he was fourteen, he was selling too.

So when the delinquent kid swaggered into church on Sunday morning with his bleached blonde hair and his kohl black smoky eyeliner and chain-adorned clothes, he was not at all concerned by the disturbing stares most of the people were giving him. In fact one would think he didn't even notice.

Why would someone like Roxas go somewhere like church? It wasn't his idea, that was for sure. His mom dragged him. Every month it was something different, some wacky self-help program she wanted to try. Usually it was something like yoga or jogging or a fad diet; and because despite his mean front, Roxas really did love the woman, he almost always agreed to try it with her. She'd never gone for something as crazy as religion before, but despite Roxas' distaste for it, he figured it would probably be easier not to argue.

Anyhow, back to the altar. Roxas had a very clear view of it from the pew he was sitting in, and he would be lying if he said he didn't lick his lips at the sight of its sole occupant.

Tuning a pretty electric guitar was a tall redhead with vibrant green eyes. He had innocence written all over him. He had a simple black vest on over a white t shirt and some dress slacks. His hair looked like his mom combed it. Clearly everyone in the church knew him because almost all of them stopped to say hello to him, a few of them even lingering for a few minutes to chat.

It was obvious by his mannerisms that the naughtiest thing this guy had probably ever done in his life was blow bubbles in his chocolate milk. This disappointed Roxas extremely, because the guy was exactly his type. Right down to the teeny little freckles on his nose.

Gradually a few more people were beginning to join the redhead on the stage, each either carrying their own instruments or employing those already set on stage. By the time Roxas realized what was about to happen, it was too late to try and get up and excuse himself to the bathroom. The lights had gone dim, the sanctuary fell silent. The redhead strummed a few chords, leading the band into a surprisingly modern style.

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be your name

Roxas wrenched his eyes shut. Ugh, gospel music. He had preparing himself for those Home Alone-style children choirs that you saw in the movies. The ones that sang the hymns in such a beautiful, drawn out way that you couldn't even understand the words anyway. He was not expecting those awful songs that came onto the Christian station trying to fool young people into listening to them by being pop-y. Roxas found it ironic that before too long, he found himself praying (in a totally atheist way) for the music to just fucking stop.

After the first few verses, someone interrupted the singing with a wicked solo. The kind that you could just tell was right off the cuff. Roxas forced his eyes open to see the teen from before going at the guitar like a professional. His eyes weren't even open. The solo got faster and faster, finally closing with a seamless merge into the basic chords again as the redhead repeated the chorus. Apparently he was also the lead singer.

If Roxas didn't know better, he'd say the boy's arms were working completely separately from the rest of him. His right hand stroked the guitar hard and fast, and it just happened to fall right over his crotch area. But even that just didn't compare to his face. It was twisted into a concentrated, yet blissful expression as he sang passionately into the microphone. If he weren't bellowing on about the grace of god, Roxas would say it was incredibly sexy. As a matter of fact, it might just be sexy anyway. Just think… said Roxas to himself, If he screws up his face like that to sing about god, imagine what he must look like with a mouth wrapped around his cock.

His every move screamed devotion. The church had maybe 50 people, but he sang as though it were to millions. He sang like his heart and soul and life had gone into that one single song, that every note tugged at his heart and every breath was the most important. Roxas was captivated, on one hand aroused because that kind of devotion to anything was such a turn on but on the other hand disappointed because the one thing every ounce of that devotion had to go to was god. The thought made him roll his eyes. Religious boys were just impossible.

The song ended and the boy's face relaxed. His eyes cracked open, glazed over as though he'd just finished an orgasm.

He didn't care if it was the wrong time, Roxas bolted to the bathroom before the next song could even start.

~o~

Roxas' mother was delighted to find out that taking her son to church the following Sunday did not require any encouragement, pep talking, compensation, or even a request. It was just starting to leak into July, the month in which all teenagers became nocturnal, and Roxas was sitting at the breakfast table with a poptart in one hand and a cigarette in the other, fully dressed at nine o'clock in the morning. Even if he was only looking to get laid, she wasn't about to complain. The only thing scarier than going to church was going alone.

At the blonde's request, they actually went a bit early to mingle. And dear lord did Christians love to mingle. Roxas must've shaken a dozen hands and made small talk with at least half that before they even made it into the sanctuary. Roxas was thankful for his off putting appearance, because that meant his mom had to do most of the work. The only people brave enough to try talking to him were the youth leaders, who spent most of that time prattling on about how proud they were of them for taking the initiative to "get saved." As if.

When he was finally able to shake them off, his eyes drifted back to the wooden stage, where there he was, practicing quietly on the same guitar. Rather than go directly up to him, Roxas approached a bored looking teenage girl with light blonde hair. He figured he should probably know as much about this character as possible before trying to get into his pants.

"Hi, my name is Roxas," said the blonde, throwing on his most charming, people pleasing smile. He held out his hand for the girl to shake. "I'm new."

After giving him a once over, she smiled weakly and shook, though hesitantly. "I'm Naminé…" she murmured shyly. "Welcome to the church."

Roxas, not at all fazed by her apprehension, replied pleasantly, "Thanks. My mom's suddenly decided she wanted to start coming to church, so I guess I'll be here for a while until she makes up her mind. So tell me, who's the beanpole with the guitar? You know, the one with the crazy hair?"

Naminé's face immediately slipped into one of distaste. "Oh him? That's Lea," she spat bitterly. "I wouldn't go near him if I were you, because I'm pretty sure he's gay and he might try something on you." Oh, you poor, naïve little girl, if only you knew how ironic your statement was.

Pretending that his interest was not as piqued as it was, Roxas said, "Oh really? What makes you say that?"

If Roxas hadn't already been clued in on just how much Christians loved to gossip, he would've been mildly frightened at how openly and willingly Naminé discussed this with him. "Well see, our parents really liked the idea of us getting together, and I mean like, he is gorgeous. So I agreed to give it a shot." She lowered her voice to a murmur. "Except the thing was, he would barely even let me touch him. I know he's got a really hardcore catholic family, so I figured he'd be, you know, prudish, but this was just ridiculous. He never even looked at me."

As much as Roxas would love to believe that Lea was gay, that alone didn't really make him believe it. To be honest, this Naminé chick sounded like a stuck up bitch whose feathers were ruffled because Lea wasn't into her. "Anything else?" he said hopefully.

"Just that he's super sensitive," she said, shrugging. "He cares more about his appearance than I do, and he's almost too well behaved. Know what I'm saying? Like he's too much of a good boy. My theory is that's his way of punishing himself. Overcompensating for his sins."

I gotta get away from this chick, Roxas decided. "Right, thanks for the tip," he said quickly, before excusing himself to somewhere other than Naminé. Religious women were even scarier than religious boys. Chances are the rumor of Lea's orientation had probably spread around the entire church, making its way to every member besides perhaps Lea and his family. Or maybe it even came to his parents, by some random old hag who thought she was giving them a nice warning. Buncha assholes.

Making sure that Naminé was clear out of eyesight, Roxas approached the altar, where Lea was still sitting with his legs hanging off the edge and playing obliviously.

Roxas waited patiently for the melody to end before cautiously tapping the guy on the shoulder. "Hey," he said casually. "I'm Roxas."

Lea smiled kindly at him, not looking nearly as threatened by his wayward appearance as Naminé had. "Hi, I'm Lea."

"So I've heard," said Roxas. "That's kind of girly," he said bluntly. "You got a middle name, kid?"

"Uhh, it's Axel," Lea replied, looking a little more intimidated by Roxas now.

"That's much better," said Roxas. "I'm gonna call you that all the time, kay? I saw you playing last week; that was amazing."

Immediately the redhead blushed, staring down at his feet modestly. "S'just Sunday worship…" he muttered. "I have a lot to learn before I could ever think about going to the big leagues."

Roxas had no idea what constituted "big leagues" for Christian music, but as far as he was concerned, it meant going professional and Axel certainly had the potential to do that. "No, seriously though. Do you ever write your own songs? I mean you sound like Kurt Cobain up there, you could go anywhere."

"Kurt who?" Axel asked blankly.

You gotta be kidding me. "Kurt Cobain? Lead singer for Nirvana? Possibly one of the most genius minds ever to hit the music industry?" More blank looks. "Oh come on! You have to have heard of him! He's the one that blew his head off with the shotgun like ten years ago! Wrote Smells Like Teen Spirit?"

Axel just shook his head.

"Well, he's amazing," said Roxas, emphasizing his point. "Had massive talent, just like you. Jeez, if you don't listen to stuff like him, what do you listen to? I bet you can bust out some of Zeppelin's solos like a pro."

Axel's face lit up. "Oh! I've heard of Led Zeppelin! My dad's friend likes listening to them. I like all kinds of styles really. My favorite band is probably Jesus Culture. They're like this alternative rock group, the guitarist is a legend. He's my idol, seriously."

Okay, in a way, his naivety was kind of cute, but it was also really annoying. Roxas felt like punching the kid's parents right in their mouths for raising this poor teenager with no clue about anything good or fun. He was probably homeschooled. Never taken to a rock concert, or gone to the movies. One of those sheltered kids that are sweet as hell but impossible to talk to because they have no idea what's going on in the world.

"Cool. But do you… ever listen to anything… like, non-gospel?" Roxas said hesitantly. "An amazing player like you, you can't tell me you haven't played Jimi Hendrix, or Paul McCartney. No? Guns N Roses? The Doors? Metallica? Pink Floyd?! Allman Brothers!? Rush!?" His voice got more and more frantic as he listed off classic rock artists that Axel shook his head to. "My god, you poor boy. Okay tell you what. I don't know much about Jesus Culture, so how about you come over after service and throw me together a playlist of your favorites. And then I'll burn you a couple CDs with my favorites too."

Axel smiled, as though he'd never been invited to somebody's house before. "That sounds awesome! But… gotta ask my mom first."

Roxas was almost about to shout fuck your mom when thankfully the clock hit ten and the other players finished setting up. Axel looked around and flashed them a thumbs up. "Right, I gotta start worship now, but we can definitely talk more after service," Axel said happily, standing up and waving with a cheery grin on his face.

~o~

Axel's mouth fell open in wonder and awe, his eyes blanked out and glazed over as his entire being as he listened to the wonder that was Eric Clapton. Were it not for his calm, continuous breathing, Roxas would have been worried that he sent the poor kid into shock. He should've started out with something easier. It was like watching some deprived third world child trying candy for the first time.

"Wh-how—I…" Axel gasped, speechless.

Roxas pushed a finger to the redhead's lips. "Shooshooshooshhhh… don't question it. Just hear it. Love it. You got way more rock history to catch up on that we simply don't have time for today, so make the most of it and ask questions later," he whispered.

Axel swallowed, nodded, and allowed himself to become lost in the endless string of chords and fingerpicking until the melancholy tune came to an end.

Roxas rolled over on his bed to face the laptop screen on which his itunes library was displayed. "Okay, I'm gonna give you some Heart now, because I think Clapton might've been coming on a little too strong for you. Your homework for this week is Journey, Queen, and the Beatles, and then next week…"

~o~

A month later, Roxas was so frustrated he was on the verge of burst. Axel remained adorably and blissfully unaware of how damn attractive he was, and he was so unguarded around Roxas it almost hurt. The kid had this trust about him that no other teenager had, at least none that Roxas had ever talked to. He told Roxas everything; his dreams, his feelings, his problems, and Roxas gladly accepted them, because he'd done a really dumb thing and tripped over the kid.

Granted, it was still annoying to the point of ridiculousness the way he babbled on about god, and made Roxas listen to gospel music, and was constantly inviting him to church activities and to his parents house and Roxas having to explain to Axel that no, he didn't actually believe in god and that he was only going to church for his mother's sake and that spending time around Axel's parents would not be a good idea because they'd probably hate him.

But the more Roxas thought about it, the more he came to realize that those things were just Axel, and without them he wouldn't be the same. Roxas was delighted to find out that his atheism didn't scare or enrage Axel, in fact one time Axel told the blonde that he was something of a refresher from all the other people he had to be around. Roxas never criticized Axel for anything other than his taste in music. He never said so, but Roxas had a feeling that something wasn't quite right with Axel's family. That they were the kind of religious that would lock their kid up in a closet with a bible for something as trivial taking god's name in vain. For that reason, he showed Axel as many worldly things as possible.

"So how come you wear all that black?" Axel asked, his arms swinging as he and Roxas strolled leisurely around town, which is where Roxas lived. "My mom almost didn't let me hang out with you today because of your earrings. She said that boys shouldn't wear makeup or jewelry 'cept wedding rings."

Roxas, though a little taken aback by Axel's bluntness, calmly replied, "I wear black clothes and makeup and jewelry cause I fucking like it. It's all right to do things that you like, right?"

"Sure," said Axel, "As long as they're not bad."

Roxas stopped them dead, taking a seat up on a nearby wall. He took out a cigarette and lit it up. "Let me ask you something, Axel. Do I seem like a bad guy to you? Honestly? Don't think about the conversation, just answer the question. Here we are, talking on a wall. I'd never heard a gospel song in my life until the day I met you and I'm wearing makeup and jewelry. But am I bad?"

"Wh-no. Of course not. You're nice," said Axel, "Although you really shouldn't smoke."

"I like smoking," said Roxas simply, leaning forward on his arms, relaxing into what some would consider a disrespectful sort of slouch, especially for public property. "I like bad things. Have you listened to Motely Crue yet like I told you to? I like those things. If you're the light, Axel, and I'm the darkness, what then?"

"I keep telling you, it's Lea!" Axel replied. But regardless, he thought about the question for a moment. "If you're the darkness, then I'll pray for you," he said. "You're not gonna scare me away that easy, little atheist. I'll pray for you until you find the light. I think you're fine just the way you are, cigarettes and makeup and all. God loves you for that and so do I. Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, for goodness' sake, and Jesus probably married her, even if it never really said so."

It was only because of sentences like those that Roxas hadn't given up yet. "So what, are you asking me to marry you?" he grinned.

Axel laughed. "Shut up, you little b—butthead."

Roxas leaned toward Axel again, letting out a little smoke ring in his face. "Say it," Roxas whispered on exhale. "Do it. Call me a bastard. I dare you. You technically wouldn't really even be cursing. My mom's fucked so many dudes she has no damn clue who knocked her up with me."

"No!" Axel squealed, looking mortified. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I double dog dare you," said Roxas.

Axel's face lit up. "Hey, I actually got that reference!" he exclaimed, looking pleased with himself. "I'm still not gonna call you a bastard though."

The redhead clapped his hand to his mouth. "You're such a horrible influence on me…" he muttered, defeated.

Roxas smiled, lying with his back on the wall and putting his head in Axel's lap. "That's okay, because one day you and me are going to get plastered as fuck, go to a Metallica concert, and get so lost in the mosh pits of doom that the next morning we won't know what was real and what was just part of our sex, drug, and rock and roll induced hallucinations. Then, and only then, will you thank me for what I've done to you."

"Don't tell anyone I said this, but I'm actually sort of looking forward to that day. Except the sex part. And the drug part. And the moshing part."

Roxas sighed. "Oh well. Baby steps."

~o~

By the following Sunday, it was perfectly safe to say that Roxas had not only tripped, but had epically face-planted into a cold ground of hard cement. It was really almost embarrassing. Roxas had played this game a hundred times before, and never before had he failed so greatly. He actually cared about what Axel thought of him. He cared about Axel. He did his best to get Axel away from his freakish family as often as possible to keep them from poisoning him too much with their ridiculous mindsets. In a way it was sort of ironic, since if an outsider looked at this, nine out of ten would say that Roxas was the one to do the poisoning.

Roxas' mom had all but given up on church, and the only reason she continued to keep going and keep feeding Axel's mom stories about what a good kid Roxas was, was because Roxas paid her off with a carton of cigarettes and a gram of coke not too long ago. And now, after nearly month and a half of asking, she'd finally convinced Axel's mother to let her son sleep at Roxas' house. It was the summer, after all, and Axel didn't have anywhere to be. She would be home the whole time and there was absolutely no booze in the house (both lies, bless her heart). Only after an exchange of phone numbers and quite a few phony promises did the red haired woman finally agree.

As soon as the car pulled up to his curb, it became obvious to Roxas that this was clearly Axel's first sleepover. From the backseat he withdrew his own pillow and a blanket and a school sized backpack. Roxas couldn't help but laugh a little as Axel went around to the trunk to get more stuff. His laughter soon vanished, however, when he realized that what Axel was fetching from the back was his own acoustic guitar. He was going to be alone, all night, with Axel and his guitar.

"Please tell me you've learned at least one Guns N Roses song," Roxas said as he bounded forward to help Axel with his stuff.

Axel looked confused. "I know Sweet Child of Mine. Why?"

"Because," said Roxas, leading them upstairs, "how many people can say that Axl sang them a Guns song?"

"But it's—" Axel started, but Roxas had already bolted up the stairs with his luggage. "Lea…"

The remainder of Roxas' evening was spent leaned up against Axel's shoulder, which surprisingly had no adverse effects on his ability to play. He pieced together song after song, rock and gospel alike, some right on the spot as requested by Roxas, and some he'd already learned. Sometimes he sang softly. Most of the time it was beautiful, but a occasionally it was quite comical, like his attempt to screech the falsetto of Zeppelin or his ridiculous go atBohemian Rhapsody.

Eventually, his strumming slowed, he concluded the ballad that Roxas had no name for, and rather than start a new song, Axel set down his guitar and yawned loudly. Roxas almost scoffed at the time, barely eleven. But he had gotten up at nine, as is standard on Sunday mornings. So he could probably sleep.

But that didn't mean he didn't have other plans.

"Time for bed?" he asked politely. Axel nodded with tired eyes.

"Where'm I sleepin?" the redhead yawned.

Roxas jabbed a thumb toward his own bed, which was a double twin. "There's room for the both of us. And let me just say right now, if you're gonna be a pussy about it you can sleep on the floor. I see no reason to have to sleep on the floor when there is plenty of room."

Axel waved him off. "I dun' mind," he said sleepily.

"Good," said Roxas shortly. He grabbed a pair of sweats from the nearest drawer and began to strip off his jeans.

Axel's previously sleepy and droopy eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "You…wh—have you no decency!?" he sputtered.

Roxas snorted. "Oh please. We're both dudes here; it's nothing you haven't seen before."

With shaking hands, Axel, though clearly uncomfortable, began undressing as well. And that satisfied Roxas way more than it should have. Because Roxas just told him that they were going to be sharing a bed. He could've ran and changed in the bathroom. But he didn't. He stayed.

Because Roxas didn't trust himself not to stare at Axel, he turned around so that he couldn't peak. In a mischievous but sort of pathetic attempt to break down Axel's control, which he may or may not actually have been fighting, Roxas concentrated on being as sly and seductive as possible. He eased his jeans down inch by inch, and his boxers followed. The sweatpants went on, leg by leg. Finally, his arms crossed over his chest, he arched his back just slightly, and pulled his shirts off all at once. Then he heard it, quiet as a mouse. A tiny, broken little mutter of:

"Shit."

Roxas spun around, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be granting Axel a little bit of modesty. The redhead had managed to get into a striped, button down top but had not yet gotten to the pants. Despite the fact that apparently he wore briefs to bed, it could not have been more obvious to Roxas

that Axel was half hard.

Slapping on a mildly surprised little smirk, Roxas said, "Well well well, seeing something we like?"

White as a ghost, Axel yanked his trousers up so fast. "N-no! Don't even suggest… that I'm—l-like that. It's not—I mean, Leviticus… they—they should all be killed!"

Roxas felt stricken. That hurt. Way more than it should have. It wasn't directed to Roxas, and Roxas knew that. In fact, Axel was probably hating himself right now. But nevertheless, what little feelings Roxas allowed himself to have felt like they'd been stomped on with soccer cleats.

"Oh really? Freddie was like that and so are Elton and Adam, should we kill them!? What about me!?" Roxas screamed, uncaring of his volume because his mom was out clubbing. "What if I was that way!? You wanna kill me Axel?" He thrust out his left forearm where, crossing over all the horizontal lines, was one single, long, white vertical scar. "Go on a fucking head, I've tried before! Maybe you'll do a better job at it than me!"

Axel paused, unsure of what to say. "You're… you… what?"

Growling, Roxas fisted the collar of Axel's pajama top and yanked, crashing their bodies together and sealing their mouths in a kiss. Axel didn't yield, in face he was about as responsive as a tree. But he wasn't pushing away, either, so Roxas kissed with as much passion as he would had it been mutual. Every now and then he tugged insistently on Axel's bottom lip with his teeth, but to no avail. So he moved on to the neck, covering it with tiny little kisses and licks and bites.

Slowly his hands wandered downwards, underneath the elastic strap, underneath the soft cotton of Axel's briefs until his fingers met hot, hard flesh.

"W-what are you d—" Axel gasped, unable to finish the sentence.

Detaching from the boy's neck, Roxas threw him a hard look. "If you don't want it, make me stop," he said, jerking his hand. He returned to a lovely spot on Axel's magnificently sculptured collarbones, covering it with burning licks. "Go on…" he said between his ministrations. "Reach down… and move my hand. Back away from me… leave the room. I won't stop you… I won't even go after you. I'll never bring it up ever again."

Axel's body was totally rigid as he fought the battle with himself. His knees quivered in his attempts to keep from leaning into Roxas' touch. His face, though Roxas couldn't possibly see it from his position, was twisted up in determination, his eyes shut tight and his teeth biting down on his lip. His hands eventually found their way to Roxas,' but move them he did not. He sort of just pathetically laid his hand atop the moving one. "I don't feel any pulling," Roxas whispered in a sing song sort of voice.

He applied the tiniest amount of pressure, just a little squeeze, withdrawing from Axel a shaky little groan. The redhead's breath quickened through his nose as he clamped his mouth shut, determined not to make any more noise. Roxas, who often made it a little game to seduce his victims into aroused submission anyway, was immensely enjoying the little battle. He ran his thumb over the slit, and then, finally, he heard a broken whisper of.

"God help me,"

Which was the Christian phrase for "fuck it," Roxas assumed, because Axel quite suddenly stopped trying to withdraw and sagged into Roxas, overwhelming the blonde with his body heat as his hands moved surprisingly gracefully to tightly grip the small of the boy's back. To feel Axel's skin against his bare back was exhilarating. It brought him that familiar feeling of winning the game, but with that there was something else as well. Something… a little more tender.

Roxas' arm was getting slightly tired, so he slowed down on Axel and eased the redhead towards the bed.

"Lie on your back," he whispered, kissing Axel on the shoulder.

Now that Roxas wasn't doing a number on his penis, Axel had managed to recover some of the fear he'd had earlier. His knees were quivering a little bit and he seemed to have some trouble breathing. However, he did as he was told, leaning his head down on top of both his and Roxas' pillows. "We're not going to… tonight, are we?" he inquired shakily.

Roxas climbed atop Axel, straddling his waist, and removed his hands from his pants. "Don't worry…" Roxas assured him. He lowered himself down so that he was lying almost completely on top on the redhead, placing a kiss on his lips. It was meant to be short, comforting, but became slightly more drawn out when Axel, finally, moved his lips in response. "I wouldn't do that to you… not until you're ready."

That seemed to calm Axel's breathing a bit, although it hadn't quite returned to normal. Honestly, who could blame him? There was a sexy blonde on top of him, gracefully plucking the buttons of his pajama top one by one. Roxas didn't mind it, he found that he overwhelmed his lovers quite often. Roxas always had the upper hand, and nobody he slept with ever minded. He slid the garment away from Axel's body, and Axel let him. In fact, he even leaned forward to help out a bit. His hands were on Roxas' shoulders now, his thumbs turned slightly downwards and affectionately tracing the symmetrical design Roxas had tattooed along his collarbones.

And then, quite spontaneously, their mouths crushed together as Axel pulled him down for a deep, lusty kiss. Though Axel's sudden compliance had thrown him slightly off guard, Roxas happily hmm'd in pleasure at the intimate feeling of skin on skin. Axel's kiss was heated and sensual, though it clearly lacked experience. All he had to go on was the way that Roxas had shown him earlier, and whatever PG-13 movies his parents had actually allowed him to watch, which probably weren't many. This mostly resulted with his tongue in Roxas' mouth, and then, not knowing what to do with it, shyly drawing back.

Roxas let him be for a while, letting him test his own waters, if nothing else demonstrating his own technique a little to coax the redhead in the right direction. A moment passed, and Axel stopped trying to force what he clearly didn't know and went his own way. It was in that moment that Roxas suddenly felt they were very close. You could tonsil-hockey with a professional porn star and still not feel intimacy on this level. Axel's hands left his shoulders, one going to his hair and the other to his back, both working on mushing the two closer together. His kiss became more pressing and less motion based.

Very much taken off guard by the sudden intensity, Roxas helplessly responded, switching instinctively into submission mode. He pushed his hands heavily through Axel's dampened hair and rolled his hips down, temporarily giving himself over to sensation.

As delicious and inviting as Axel's mouth had become, Roxas detached himself from it in favor of collarbones and chest. He worked his way down, covering the skin he met with suction and bites. Over Axel's stomach he went, tracing the contours with his tongue, kneading his hands over the redhead's sides.

"Mmm… hahhh," Axel breathed, unsure of what to do with himself.

And then Roxas reached fabric, stretched along the bony structure of Axel's hips. His mind immediately shooting back to the first fantasy Roxas ever had about the guy, Roxas closed his mouth over the hot shape of Axel's girth. For now it was only through the boxers, but that was more than enough to get Axel going. Both his thighs twitched and jolted as though he'd been electrocuted, his back rose into the air, and from his lips escaped a soft cry of embarrassed pleasure.

Finally, unable to resist anymore, Roxas gave up and did what he'd wanted to since the beginning. He shimmied the redhead's clothing downward, meeting no resistance, and took him in his mouth. Axel's face was pure bliss. In a way, it wasn't even sensual. It was pure.

"Oh god…"

Slightly irritated, but mostly just please, Roxas momentarily stopped. "Not god… Roxas," he instructed pleasantly. "Tell me how good it feels."

He went down again, first taking just the head, swirling his tongue around it. Then he began bobbing his head, going a little lower every time. He loved every moment of it; the satisfaction of finally seeing that gorgeous blowjob face, the wonderful sounds Axel was making, the way his flesh tasted. All were highly arousing and before he even realized it he was hard as his partner.

"Roxas… nng, please… I-I can't—" Axel whispered in bits of broken English. His hips involuntarily bucked upwards, resulting in a good portion of his shaft going down Roxas' throat. "S-sorry."

Fortunately for Roxas, he was expecting this, and he knew very well how to deep throat. Rather than stop to tell Axel it was fine, he closed his throat and hummed, knowing that every vibration would increase Axel's pleasure. He continued his bobbing motions, opening and closing his throat, and tongue play. He wriggled his hands to Axel's backside, where they pushed and kneading and guided into a thrusting motion, letting Axel know that yes, it was okay to fuck his face.

"Unnnngh… oh god Roxas," Axel groaned. "Come back up here… kiss me."

Roxas, aroused to the point of no return, complied heavily. With a swift motion of hands, he pushed his own sweat pants down and out of the way and he pulled away from Axel's cock in favor of mouth. When he lowered back down again, he met nothing but heat and skin and mouth. He plunged his tongue into the other's mouth, ravaging mercilessly as he tried to keep up with the fire going on in lower places.

There was nothing for it, one moment Axel was hesitantly and probably unknowingly thrusting his hips up, and the next they were frotting madly against one another, creating friction and heat and pleasure. Roxas' oversensitive nerves could feel every atom of Axel's shape. Hands tangled into hair, eyelids fluttered and a sharp moan rang out as Axel suddenly lost control and came hard onto his own stomach. The visual, added to the throbbing heat was simply too much for Roxas, and he finished very soon after.

Roxas went to grab a pillow to clean himself with, but just as he was lifting himself up to pull away, Axel's hands flung to his back and brought him back down, either unknowing or uncaring of the mess they'd made. That same overwhelming feeling of closeness washed over Roxas as the redhead held him. They stayed in place for a while, breathing and, well, cuddling.

"You know what?" Axel yawned after a short while.

"Mm?" Roxas replied sleepily.

"I don't feel like a sinner."

Eyes blinking open, Roxas stared up at Axel, whose gaze was on the ceiling. His features were peaceful, if nothing else thoughtful. "I should think not. There's nothing sinful about what we just did. Because you mean everything to me and I would still be shit without you and you're the reason that these are old and not new," he lazily flung his scarred arm up and back down. "And I feel… that thing."

"What thing?"

Roxas huffed in annoyance. "You know, that thing everybody wants that you're supposed to have before you fuck."

Axel blinked. "Love?"

"Gah! Don't say that word. I hate it!" Roxas cried, burying his head in Axel's neck. Axel, to his surprise, held onto him tighter and laughed out loud. Like a true, happy, belly jiggling laugh. "What's so funny," Roxas growled, his voice a bit muffled by the redhead's collarbones.

"I just—I can't help it. Big, bad Roxas, ready to take on the world, to go out into town and eff things up. My Roxas, that sings about sex, drugs, and rock on roll, wears silly guyliner and curses like no other. The atheist that will brave churches and youth groups still without changing a single thing about himself, afraid of love. The irony of it just gets to me, is all," Axel laughed.

"Fuck you…" Roxas mumbled.

Axel pushed some of the blonde's hair away from his ear as he pressed his lips against Roxas' ear. "I will… someday soon…"

~One Month Later~

"Does it look really weird?" Axel muttered, turning his head so Roxas could see from all angles.

"Hell no!" Roxas exclaimed excitedly. "It looks perfect! I mean, your eyes were amazing before, but now they're just like SHABAM I'm about to pop your cherry! And your cheekbones, oof!" He turned around to the other side of the tattoo parlor, where the quirky, mulleted artist was gathering up his materials and covering the area in sterilizer, humming to himself all the while. "Thanks, man, how the hell did you hold him down?"

The guy shrugged. "I didn't. He was very masculine about it. You sure I can't convince you to get back in the chair? It's 25% off for you, baby."

"Naw thanks, Dem," Roxas replied, shaking his head. "I have a concert to go to with this pansy over here. It'll be his first one."

"Shiit, man, you should have invited me!" the artist complained. "So hey, was that your first tattoo?"

Axel shrugged and made a sort of affirmative motion with his head. Slowly but surely, more punkish things had been making their way into Axel's closet. Aside from church time and family time, he strutted around in washed out jeans and tight fitting band tees, and had even shyly asked Roxas about wearing mascara a few weeks back. They'd already picked up some tattoo concealer for Axel to dab on for a while until he decided to break it to his parents.

The guy whistled, clearly impressed. He held his hand out for Axel to shake. "Well, it was a pleasure doing business with you, Lea."

Axel glanced up, revealing the two purplish, teardrop shaped tattoos that were permanently marked into his cheekbones. "Actually, it's Axel."