He rested against him, breathing just as hard as last time, the long, heavy coat pulled off the first chance he got. The material, as well as the color, only attracted more heat, forcing more sweat down his body, bringing Roxas to exhaustion much sooner than he would have liked.
Of course, this was only natural when training with Lexaeus. The Organization wasn't giving him a gradual build up into combat training. From the very beginning of being accepted into the organization, Lexaeus was assigned to Roxas in tutoring him on how to fight. Throwing him in the deep end, so to speak. The general aim was, by forcing Roxas to spar with a man much stronger and skilled than he was, he'd excel in fighting not only quicker, but also in much more dire circumstances. It was all well and good to be able to defeat an opponent of equal stature, but the Organization needed more than that. They wanted to see how long one could hold their own against a much greater foe, for the nature of combat tended to lead to rather lopsided matches. One had to prepare for that.
Lexaeus looked down at XIII, his expression the same as ever, watching him gasp desperately for air. Roxas was learning how to properly dodge the Tomahawk, instead of just trying to block it. Blocking had only been resulting in more and more injuries, as the silent hero simply had more weight and momentum to him when he brought his weapon down, forcing Roxas to go tumbling back. There were less cuts and bruises on the boy this time. Lexaeus would keep pushing their training until it was reduced to none, and then forced beyond. Roxas would need to be put to a point where he could keep Lexaeus on guard.
Lexaeus pulled out from underneath Roxas, slowly, so as not to let his body collapse suddenly into the floor. He unzipped and removed his own coat, walking away from the boy, leaving him a bit confused.
"Where are you…hahhh…going…hhh…?" He asked between deep breaths.
"To get you water," Lexaeus replied, simply.
The rest of the time assigned to training was spent silent.
---
They all had their own individual rooms, of course. Privacy was important. Were the Organization forced to be around each other at all times, tensions would quickly rise, fights would break out, and very little work or research would get completed. Each needed their own space to think, to sleep, and to pursue hobbies, occasionally.
Roxas rarely was in his own room late at night, as of recent weeks.
He walked relaxed, calm, through the corridors, not worrying one bit of another organization member popping in and asking what he was doing. He had plenty of answers at the ready, even if they decided they wanted to follow him around. Axel in particular liked to stay close, but there were times when he insisted to the slender redhead that he needed to be by himself. Axel would smirk as ever, raise his hands and say, "Alright," saving his attention for the next time.
He knocked once, twice, three times on the door, each one spaced out. Roxas got no response, but was unfazed. He simply twisted the knob and walked inside, knowing he was expected.
"Hi, Lexaeus," He said, letting a hint of a smile build up around the corners of his mouth.
"Hello," V responded plainly. He was sitting on his bed, facing away from Roxas, his coat hung up in the closet, and now wearing a light worn-out t-shirt and white pants with plenty of leg room, like the bottom half to a martial arts Gi. He turned around, and was promptly met with thin arms snaking around his body, and spiked out brown hair rubbing against his neck.
Lexaeus speech habits (or lack thereof) were starting to rub off on Roxas. He didn't tell him about the rest of his day after training, listening to Demyx hum and rap his fingers against the table at dinner, or watching Xigbar perform trick shots once again, out of boredom. He didn't ask for permission to slip his hand underneath his shirt and touch the hard abdomen to his body, running his fingers against toughened muscle. Body language was becoming a larger part of his communication methods, letting small tensions, angles of the eyes, or rolling of the shoulders do all the speaking for him. Telling him his mood, what he wanted, and if it was alright without saying a word.
Lexaeus laid back on the bed and watched Roxas feel up his stomach yet again. Roxas found comfort with Lexaeus. Safety. There was no threat to worry about, nothing that could harm him, when he was with Lexaeus. The confidence he had wrapped Roxas tightly up, and made worries melt away.
He also understood the need for space. He didn't press Roxas for answers to all sorts of questions, or followed him at all times. He knew he needed time alone, or time to think through things, and eventually come to a decision, instead of answering here and now. Axel's tendency to hang close whenever they were together often made an uncomfortable tension grip his spine.
Roxas peeled the rest of the shirt off of Lexaeus' broad, tall body, and laid himself flat against his chest. He let his eyes lid, his hands run slowly against each individual muscle, and breathed in his presence. He wanted to connect to Lexaeus. Bond to him, in the time he had in his room.
Lexaeus was not cold and indifferent to him. A heavy hand rested on Roxas' back, his eyes still watching him. A thick finger rolled a circle around an area tense from combat practice, making Roxas sigh out in relief. After a minute of this, the hand pulled up, bringing Roxas' shirt along with it, slowly taking it off.
It was quite a contrast, Roxas' petite, lithe body, compared to the tank Lexaeus had made of himself. Roxas had a small layer of tone – he was built for acrobatics. Lexaeus, on the other hand, exercised daily, and in multiple routines, never letting his body fall below its current status, muscle along each limb and piece of his body.
Roxas didn't want to wait any longer. He had been aching for it all day. He pushed himself down, his head now against Lexaeus' stomach, hands pulling on his pants, not tearing his eyes from Lexaeus' face for a moment. He was so calm, peaceful, even as Roxas undressed him.
His soft hand stroked Lexaeus' cock, trying to not be too eager about it. His other hand lowered and joined in, getting the other side, thumbs and fingers running up and down, putting bits of pressure here and there, feeling it harden in his grip. Growing thick.
Lexaeus' breathing grew a bit sharper, a bit faster – more audible. It was small things, Roxas would watch for, that would tip off Lexaeus' pleasure. He wouldn't call out Roxas' name, wouldn't tell him how good it felt, or writhe and squirm around constantly. He'd just breathe faster, and a small tension would be on his face. Roxas knew he was enjoying it. It didn't have to be loud and obvious for him.
Sweetly curved lips wrapped around the head of the cock, and his mouth opened up wider, sure to not get his teeth pressed against the skin. He lowered himself gently, never forcing it in, or beyond what he could take.
Lexaeus breathed a little faster. His hand shifted through Roxas' hair, running from one end to another in a long swoop of movement.
Roxas couldn't take it to the base, not yet, and Lexaeus didn't want him to. Gagging, choking, or even that uncomfortable sensation as it slid close to his throat – they didn't need any of that, or want it. Roxas simply wanted to give and for Lexaeus to enjoy it. Lexaeus didn't need Roxas' eyes rolling back or begging for air to enjoy this affection, or the warm sensation running from Roxas' mouth to his body and through it.
Time passed. Roxas pulled off, drawing back deep, long breaths, looking up at V, who was showing the signs of a small coldsweat running down him now.
He didn't need words to know what to do next. Roxas stood up on the bed, wriggling his pants off, with nothing underneath but more firm skin, hard from the thoughts that had been in his mind for most of the day, intensified by being so close to Lexaeus now. He turned around, facing away now, and laid on his stomach, looking straight ahead at Lexaeus' bookshelf and waiting.
There was an initial wince as cold jelly was pressed around and a bit inside, but the attention received changed it quickly into a content groan, feeling a single wide finger slicking his hole up, getting him ready. To do it dry? Didn't even want to consider the idea.
There was a shiver and a sigh when the finger pulled out, and Roxas stood back up, looking down on Lexaeus. Waiting for whenever the boy was ready.
He wrapped his arms close around, and started to sit. He wanted to watch Lexaeus the entire time. See the changes in his breathing. The sweat that would build up so slowly, the subtle increase of his grip.
Gentle as they could manage it, Lexaeus pushed inside. Roxas gave out a sharp exhale, and his fingers dug into Lexaeus' back, feeling his body slide down, an inch, and then another inch going in.
They took a steady pace. Patient. Lexaeus powerful hands keeping themselves at ease, placed on Roxas' hips, and pushing down. Eventually, getting fully inside the boy, who'd give a small squirm and a bite of his lip, exhaling again as Lexaeus' hips pulled back, bringing himself close, but not fully, out of him.
On and on it went like this. Timed, paced out, a rhythm building up, never forceful. Roxas' fingers would try to dig in more, but the muscle kept them flat. He pulled in closer to Lexaeus, enough to get his arms fully around, hands locking, so he wouldn't have to let go of him.
In, out, in, out, slow, steady, caring.
Roxas felt safe, here. Felt trust.
A hand slid up his back, to his neck, and back into that defiant hair of his, pressing on the back of his head gently, putting it to Lexaeus chest. Roxas kissed it, twice, then breathed hotly on it.
In, out.
Eventually, there was warm release, Lexaeus paced thrusts slowing to a stop, letting the boy lay on top of him. Recovering again. Sharp, short breaths.
It didn't have to be fast, demanding, aggressive. That would actually put Roxas ill at ease – he didn't want that from Lexaeus.
Here, in silence, he recovered, and watched the tall, broad man carefully.
In patience, slow and unspoken, he felt comfort.