He said, "I'll hurt you in every way. "

And he answered, thankfully, "I know you will."

Just a moment before, Twilight Town's sky was as red as blood and guts splattered across a canvas.

Now the same sky was fallen under his eyes, all black and dirty and cold. The stone ground under his palms -thousand of tiny pebbles and maybe fragments of glass stick on his hands and cheeks.

He opened his mouth in an effort to shout, but five fingers plugged it up.

They smelled of leather.

Roxas knew without a shadow of doubt that this was the last smell he was going to breathe, and felt like he had to throw up.

He closed his eyes tighter and decided he would try to beg him more, because he really could beg so much better than he did before- so much better. But his smashed lips filled his mouth with the blood he'd swallow again and again, and it felt like even his own breath smothered him.

The man could have held his jaw tighter until he crushed it.

"If you scream, I'll kill you."

Roxas nodded. The man shifted his hand. Roxas screamed. The man slammed his head into the ground, covering his mouth again. He grinned with a chilling affection: "As I supposed."

Roxas'd already heard that voice. He was trying to recognize it when suddenly he understood that it would be useless.

Better to not know.

It was the end. It was the only thing he had to know.

The man sitting on him bent over to reach his ear, and…kissed softly his temple: "Trust me."

And then he added: "I'll do the same to you. I promise."

A moment later his mouth was free and instantly opened to scream, but he closed it. Fear hadn't yet devoured that part of the brain that kept telling him it wasn't wise trying the same game twice. He begged more.

"I've got money. Please."

The man laughed and then bit his neck slowly. Roxas scratched the asphalt.

Grime was all under his nails.

He heard unbuttoning. Then unzipping. He started to cry.

"No, please. I beg you."

"Sssh."

Roxas froze. All that sham intimacy gave him the creeps. It made him cry more. The man pushed down his pants and Roxas started to crawl, trying to escape.

Then the man moved and again Roxas tried to crawl. He laughed. Roxas would've laughed too if he'd had the strength to. He couldn't escape, he knew.

He wished his body would understand it too. He apologized, weeping. The man said it didn't matter.

He apologized anyway again and again.

He tried to turn around, ludicrously hopeful that looking that man in the eye as a human being would make him see Roxas for what he was, another human being, but he couldn't move. Fear was starting to petrify him. He didn't feel the lower part of his body anymore.

"I'm a virgin."

And the man squeezed his ass: "You fucking liar."

"I know what this love stuff is." Axel told him once. "I remember that."

"So, tell me."

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"I said I remember, not that I like it."

"Take your clothes off."

The man stood on his knees to give him space and, shivering, Roxas wriggled like a snake to remove his pants. When he turned the man grabbed his head and pushed it against on ground again. Roxas nodded hard, desperately, and when he let him go he put his forehead on the ground sobbing and forcing himself to breath normally not to explode or implode and look straight at him, and he lifted just his hips. His hands trembled near his belt. After painful attempts to stop them, he let them fall down.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me, I can't, I'm sorry."

"Ssst. It's ok, it's ok. Don't cry."

Instead of shutting his mouth again, the man wiped off his tears.

Fuck you, was all Roxas could think, fuck you, fuck you.

He was suddenly pushed harder because the belt was making his pants stick to his hips. The man pushed more, harder, so he could take his pants and boxers down off his ankles. Roxas started to count his sins but he couldn't find even one, even when he was a little child. Funny, he couldn't remember ever being a little child. Hayner told him once Olette had a crush on him. Roxas never

understood these sort of things. He wanted to eat a sea-salt ice cream. He needed a new

Struggle bat. He thought of the clock tower. There was always such a wonderful view from up there.

He woke up only when he felt the man's now bare hands on his skin, hot, caressing his thighs with a terrifying slowness.

He asked: "Ain't I good?"

Roxas just wanted this to end. He just wanted to go home. On a late night there were cartoons on tv. He started to hear the opening theme. He was almost home, it was almost ended, just a little bit, it was almost over.

"No, you're right." The man flipped his body up like he was a doll. "You're perfect."

"Thanks," Roxas answered swallowing.

The hardest part was done, he thought. The man had calmed down. He had to work with the man so it would end well- as well as something like this could end. He swallowed again.

The man's lips touched his ass. Not chapped, the kind of lips you expect from a monster.

Soft, warm lips. Just the shape gave him pleasure.

And Roxas lost himself.

"What's going on?"

"A bee stung me."

Axel was about to laugh: "What?"

"A bee stung me. It was in my coat and stung me. It fucking hurts. It's not

funny at all."

"Lemme see."

Roxas rolled up his sleeves, with lips that seemed even more alluring than

before.

"Fuck. I don't understand. Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Lovable."

"What do you mean by that?"

He smirked on the soft blonde hair of his arm. "Fuck you," and he started to suck at the bead.

Crushed down onto the floor, on top of glass, among the garbage, the man had started to lick him where nobody was supposed even to look at him –and, heaven forbid, his body gave no resistance. He was trembling and his brain was fragmented by fear, but with contact on that unnamed skin his body betrayed him, forcing him to abandon himself to something

without.

a reason.

Now the knife-edged sand was moved by his panting, and Roxas could feel his breath catching in his throat. The man laughed and dipped his tongue in a little more. Roxas moaned and said to himself he was only doing this to save himself, all but this, but his whole body was fibrillating and laughing at him, laughing at this foolishness.

Roxas didn't understand what was wrong with him--jump to beautiful green eyes—the terror didn't stop and became solid in his stomach. But everything else was melting; the man beat his own keys like a piano's, pinched his cords like a violin's, as if all those fears has been just a misunderstanding--jump to rubbing black leather--jump to a library, someone whose laughs accomplice --and he was too fucked up to feel anything but surprise when the man's hard cock pressed to his hole, opening it like a wound, and all his body swallowed him, begging to fill him up.

The man thrust inside, he felt the smash of hips against his own butt, sticky fabric of pants, cold zipper digging in his skin like the man's cock was digging inside him.

Roxas was abject, disgusting.

He was a filthy slut and he deserved to die.

He stared to cry even while his whole skin, flesh, bones, veins, nerves and cartilage remembered and remembered.

He had told him once: "Next time, I will fall in love with you.

"

Roxas answered before leaving, hurt: "If you can't love me now, then I don't need you to love me later."

Then it started burning. The thrusts getting harsher, deeper, and slowly all bliss disappearing to let him know a stranger was fucking him in an alley and he was doing it bareback. He was doing it without any protection, and he could rip him, he could put in his body thousands of things that would take over him and make him rot from the inside. Things that could crumble and tear him apart, again, again. Roxas ground his teeth to bear the thrusts inside him charging like trying to break through a fortress --jump to the same, but more sweet --jump to a dark city, green and blue lights--green and even now his body wasn't scared.

"Am I hurting you?"

Breath choked and cheeks dripping tears, Roxas nodded. The thrusts were so hard, so harsh, that each one ground his cheek, knees, and thighs against the gravel. He wasn't even sure, but he did know that every

single

thrust

took him

back.

"I keep my promises baby. You weren't fussed about maintaining yours."

"Why do you want a heart?"

"I don't know. I just feel I have to. What about you?"

"Me neither. I didn't know why, before. I just felt I had to."

"And now?"

"I need it to do something."

"What do you mean?"

Wrong move. So wrong. He would kill him. Now he would kill him. He closed his eyes but instead of killing him, the man lifted and forced him to impale himself on his cock with a weird, peaceful anger, a fierce and still amused grin on his lips –and Roxas was shuddering. Arms which tightened him were strong, possessive, but not careless. He knew how to hold him. He knew how long he could go before breaking him.

"What?"

"I don't want to only hurt you."

Roxas gave up. He allowed himself to go. He could breathe better but he was still breathing too much, too fast, and there were too many noises which leaned languid under his traitor body's will. That man's teeth on his shoulder, not fearful anymore, hot hand under his shirt rubbing his nipple.

That man had a weird smell, much like kerosene or solvent or fuel or glue, that kind of odor you'd smell deeply with your mouth and nose, you'd fill your lungs with it until you faint, so addicting to seem wonderful in spite of its unsettling, obvious toxicity.

Roxas was just a cruddy slut and he deserved to die but

every single

thrust was touching

something forgotten and beautiful

and while that man was saying "Roxas" swollen with worship and lust against his neck while he was coming inside him, Roxas was thinking that

even being

torn up

can be

infinitely

sweet…

Roxas chuckled and said: "But you don't."

And Axel answered, displeased: "But I would like to feel bad whenever I do that."

The man pulled his pants back up impolitely, as he wanted to re-establish the power balance, but then he embraced Roxas, holding him closer.

Roxas felt his pants soaked in blood. Emptied and castaway from everything but the muggy air of Twilight Town; he asked to himself if Hayner, Pence, and Olette will understand.

He was standing on shaky legs, devoid of strength, and not even thinking as the man told him to close his eyes. Roxas was still in those hands, no matter what this could mean.

He closed his eyes, but the gloved hand brought complete darkness over his eyelid.

Then the man in the black coat kissed him.

For a long time, deeply.

Roxas hadn't even kissed before, but he kissed him back like he's done it before thousands, million of times. Then slowly the man's lips pulled apart and said: "It's been just a dream, Rox. Just a bad dream."

Bad? he asked to himself, then the man began to strangle him.

"And so?"

"What?"

"Fuck you. You know what."

"…any idea?"

"Yeah. Stop to think about it. My room?"

His eyes opened tiredly. He felt like he had just fallen asleep and slept for years at a time. He extended his hand to reach the alarm clock and watched his arm, for a long moment.

It was early, and he decided he was going to sleep because he was on vacation, after all.

Roxas closed his eyes. He fell back asleep, with a weird, painful feeling that to heal he had to break.

"Is that your way to solve problems?"

"I don't plan any change."

Roxas smiled at him: "Until it works."

"Did it work?"

He chuckled and nodded: "It works."

Axel smiled back, placed hands on his hips and pressed him closer.

"I'll remember that."

And Roxas knows he will