Warning: Sex (so much sex) and drugs and violence. All the best things. A somber, pretentious atmosphere provided by this girl who thinks she's some kind of writer. Some weirdly gushy bits followed by some attempts at being funny. Song titles as chapter titles, as usual (because I haven't an original bone in my entire body). TRIGGER WARNING: rape, psychological abuse, and physical abuse. Please take note. Very important.

Disclaimer: I do not own jack SHIT.

Title: Off to the Races by Lana Del Rey

Off to the Races

Sora had been well groomed by a hard life.

He was well aware of this, and he used the numbness that pervaded as a result to his advantage. It was easy enough to score some cash hustling at pool or darts or poker, and if the need arose, he could sell himself off just as simply. There was no fuss in this kind of life. It was deceptively simple, and provided the illusion of happiness. Sora could drink and laugh and play games. He could have sex — and get cash — and he was completely free. In some ways, it was the perfect situation, and he saw neither the beginning nor the end to his engagements.

He prowled through the seedy Las Vegas nightlife like the predator he was, living off of the wrinkled 20s of bikers and drunk fools. He thought nothing of his detachment. He thought nothing of the moments in which he was forced to fend off attackers as the cold, night wind of the Mojave whipped through his hair. He thought nothing of scaring off over confident assholes with his switchblade. He thought nothing of his customers choking him, spitting on him, laughing. He thought nothing. He felt nothing.

But then, inexplicably, in the dead of night, he would be sitting outside with his head in his hands. His body would betray him and tears would pour and collect on his palms and his cheeks. He would taste the salt and laugh, and wonder why. He still felt nothing. He still thought nothing. Yet there was an enormous, gaping hole emerging within him. It was ever-present, but only made itself known on those rare occasions. It forced tears into his eyes, dragged him down into the dirt by his nape. And he would wallow and sob and spend several days just… dying. He would stare into space as he drank, he would cry and laugh simultaneously as he lay in the dirt, and he would float in his grief. And after it was all over, he was back at his game again, for months at a time. Hustle, sell yourself, repeat. Drink, give up, repeat. It was always the same thing, a comforting drum beat pounding through his veins.

And it all was going fine — perfect, even — until Sora had that one tough customer.

Pool was the chosen game, and winning was easy for Sora. He'd been playing since childhood, when his father had first dragged him into that sleazy biker dive and bet that his kid could beat anyone in the place. It had all started there. And he'd never lost.

This was true of his current game, which was going all too well… except that the lanky redhead he was playing was definitely catching on.

"You were fucking with me, weren't you?" the guy said, eyeing Sora as he lined up shot after shot and sunk the balls.

Sora played it cool and shrugged, missing on purpose and waiting several minutes as his opponent managed to put a few balls in himself. He missed a shot soon after he started his streak, however, cursing and watching with suspicion as the lithe brunet he'd been playing finished him off. He'd bet a lot on that game, unfortunately, and he parted with it reluctantly, still watching as Sora thumbed through the bills and smiled.

"Did you just hustle me, asshole?" he slurred, slamming his fists down on green felt and staring down the beaming brunet. "I demand a fucking honest answer here, okay."

Sora rolled his eyes and shoved the money he'd won deep into his pocket, prepared to fight the guy off if need be. However, he never liked making a scene. Plus, he frequented this particular biker bar too often to allow for the kind of suspicion this guy was raising. Several of the people around them had been targets before, after all, and the last thing Sora needed was their ire. He glanced around, noting that several other patrons were watching, and decided it might be better to drag the guy outside for the fight. Thus, he ended up steering the redhead by one elbow out into the shockingly cold desert night, sand and wind blowing past him as he stared down his most recent target.

"You're making a scene," he said calmly, poking the guy in the chest. "It's bad for business."

"So you were hustling!" the redhead exclaimed, grabbing the finger still prodding at the flesh of his chest and yanking. "I want my money back…"

He trailed off as he and Sora stared at each other, green eyes locking onto blue like gears clicking together. And simultaneously, they shivered. Sora wasn't sure if the guy was feeling the same thing, but his hand was tingling, his whole body was tingling. It was radiating out from that spot where they were still connected, and it travelled fast down his spine from where their eyes were unwaveringly meeting. He couldn't tear his gaze away, either. Those eyes were life. He breathed in and smelled heat, flesh, metal. It was the perfect scent. He was practically drooling.

'What is this?' he thought, his body unwontedly relaxed and his skin heating up all on its own. 'Damn am I drunk? That's impossible, right?' His thoughts pulled him out of whatever state of hypnosis he'd fallen into, thankfully, and, as he regained his bearings, he figured it might be prudent to respond. It seemed strange after such a long pause, but Sora finally pulled his hand out of the guy's grasp, raising one eyebrow as he smirked.

"Are you prepared to face the consequences of those words?" he said quietly, palming the switchblade he kept up one sleeve.

The redhead seemed to process that for a moment, and a moment too long, at that, because Sora was at his throat immediately, a well-honed blade pressed against the near-translucent flesh of the taller man's neck.

"Because there will be consequences if you try to deny me what I fairly won," the brunet hissed, only intending to scare the guy off. However, it seemed to have no effect on the drunkard, whose level of inebriation was apparently overriding his sense of self-preservation. For a split second, he just stared wide-eyed at Sora, and licked his lips, his pulse quickening even as his body grew completely still. Then he did something Sora was definitely not expecting. And this, Sora reasoned, was why he didn't even realize it had happened until he was already pressed tight against the wall, both hands pinned above his head and a pair of lips connecting hard with his.

Normally, he would have struggled under those circumstances. In fact, he was certain he could wriggle out of the guy's grip easily enough, leave him with a pretty scar and emptied pockets, and spend the rest of his night with some casino rat for a decent sum. But… he lost all will to do any of this as that kiss overtook his body. It shocked him for certain — if only because it was happening at all — but there was more to it than that… it was that same numbness, that same feeling of being overcome. He felt a shiver ripple from his neck and travel all the way to his toes and fingers, loosening his grip on the switchblade and sending it clattering against the asphalt. He hardly noticed, however, because everything seemed to have illuminated around a single point in the universe, and that point was right where his lower lip was being licked and bitten by a mysterious redhead. And then there was the gentle warmth of the man's palms against Sora's wrists. Despite how innocuous the touch was, and how rough it had been at first, it ignited a fire beneath the brunet's skin, setting his whole body to trembling. It had only become more intense since their brief moment of contact before, and he was having a hard time resisting the taste of the air between them.

"Fuck," the redhead whispered, his mouth still pressed against Sora's. "Oh my god."

Sora silently repeated both of these utterances as he was pushed harder against the wall and the redhead's hands moved from his wrists to his waist. His mouth remained close, but not quite touching the brunet's as he stared him directly in the eyes, his panting breaths matching the cadence of Sora's heart.

Sora felt something strange, then, and it was the first time he'd ever felt anything like it: attraction. In the past, he'd had almost no interest when sleeping with the guys he sold himself to, and he hardly ever kissed them. Furthermore, he never, ever, lost himself in what he was doing. He was always slightly on edge, aware, and ready for any sudden movements. That was the world he lived in. So he really couldn't ignore it when something so shocking happened. And he couldn't deny the synchronicity he felt with the guy pinning him against the wall. Nor the strange, bittersweet tug he felt in his chest each time they locked eyes and pressed their lips together again oh-so-slowly. He was intoxicated.

"You wanna come back to my room with me?" the redhead murmured, his green eyes surprisingly serious despite how drunk he certainly was.

It took Sora only a moment to breathe out a small yes, and they were off. One of the taxis that often lingered in the area picked them up immediately, and they both spent the entire ride in a tense, enthralled silence. And though it was only a short conveyance, it felt like they'd been staring at each other for hours by the time they stumbled through the door of the redhead's cheap motel room and fell breathlessly into bed.

He asked for Sora's name in a heady whisper, his tongue laving over the tanned flesh of the brunet's neck and chest as he answered in a gasp. And when the redhead said his name was Axel, Sora thought it was just right. He wasn't sure why, but it made sense just as inexplicably as everything else between them did.

Axel… it felt right as it slid down his throat and nestled up against his heart, seeping in deeper and deeper with each beat. "Axel," he panted, watching with hooded eyes as pale lips closed in on bared flesh, all the way down his body. "Axel," he moaned, thrusting up as he covered his eyes in shame, his body overcome. "Axel… please," he gasped, quivering and twitching now, practically shouting each time those fingers pressed deeper inside of him. "Now," he demanded, pushing Axel back, straddling him and kissing him hungrily.

"Yeah," Axel whispered against his mouth, biting back a moan as he slowly pushed inside.

"Axel," Sora said again, still kissing him.

"Sora-"

"Fuck." He wrapped his arms tighter around the redhead's shoulders, biting into the flesh of his neck.

"Ung, Sora…"

There was a rushed thrust, then a pause as they both quivered, anticipating how rough it was about to become. Sora continued to litter Axel's neck with bite marks, an occasional gasp susurrating from between his lips. Axel mumbled something desperate and shoved Sora down again, their bodies still closely melded as he pressed in further and rolled his hips forward. And Sora had never, ever felt so helpless as he did then. Not in his entire life. He felt his head rolling to the side, his legs relaxing, opening wider to let that feeling wash over him more, deeper. He felt his mouth open and his eyes flutter closed and knew that he was making so much damn noise but — god — he couldn't stop.

Axel wasn't even touching him, but he was shuddering, coming, and still moving his hips for more, needy, and drowning in the pleasure. The redhead's hands were moving over his skin, and it was so painfully slow he wanted to grab them hard and press them everywhere. He wanted that tingling touch on every inch of skin. His neck, his hips, his lips, were aching to be touched. His body was dying to be close to the other man's. He felt ravenous.

He grabbed the taller boy behind the neck and bent his body in a way he'd never dreamed possible. He did this just so they could be a fragment closer, just so they could brush their lips together, not even kissing, just feeling each other. He did this so he could grab at Axel's hair and squeeze his waist between his thighs and feel their sweat-slicked chests press together. And Axel was just as hungry, he knew, because every breath was his name, every thrust was urgent, the way his hands grasped and pawed and caressed was so full of longing…

Sora panted one last time into Axel's mouth, then pressed their tongues together roughly, moaning and rolling his hips up in perfect tandem with the redhead. He could feel how intensely close he was to careening over the edge. It was a constant precipice, and the only thing keeping him from plunging that distance was his desire to keep feeling so fucking good. However, he could only delay the inevitable for so long, and before he could attempt to regain control of his body, he became a drooling, coming mess just like that. Axel drew back to stare at his face as his cock twitched and the throes of orgasm turned him into a puddle, a groan and one final thrust punctuating the moment as the taller man reached his own climax.

Neither of them moved for quite some time, their skin still tingling in the afterglow and the air surrounding them full of that same strange, charged tension they'd felt the first time they'd touched. It only seemed natural, then, that they'd lay close and listen to each other's heartbeats. And it was all but expected that Axel would grab him when he did, lay a kiss on his forehead, and cradle him into a heavy, dreamless sleep. He hardly made note of the actions, in fact, as they seemed so perfectly fitting, like puzzle pieces dropping effortlessly into place. They were so synchronized that their heartbeats slowed to the same pace. Their bodies were so compatible that Sora felt no discomfort sleeping pressed against Axel's chest. And something in them was drawing them so close that, even as they slept, they sought each other out.

Sora thought he might burst from the soaring feeling in his chest. And when Axel murmured his name softly in the middle of the night, he didn't know whether to weep or shout.

And that was only the beginning.