It's morning when I rediscover myself. And by that, I simply mean my brain works itself into what could resemble a conscious state. I'm not fully awake, not yet at least, and thus I keep my lids over my eyes. The icy blue concealed by a thin layer of flesh as pale as the rest of me. My ears pick up on a couple of sounds, and even the lack thereof. It doesn't appear to be raining this morning in the World That Never Was. The air is calm, and cool, and crisp. The rain from previous days has left a delicious cleanliness to the world in its wake. Everything feels refreshed. Revived.
Accompanied with my own light, airy breathing is the breathing of another; a heavier, steadier breathing that has the essence of pure contentment. Bliss, if you will.
I'm perfectly comfortable in my bed on this crisp, clean, and cool morning. There is no sun to dictate the time, due to the thick, black cover of the clouds, but I'm quite aware it's early. Five, perhaps six, in the morning.
I'm not cold this morning. My bed is not empty.
As I wake up further- due to the cool breeze lapping at my face and bare back as it flows in swiftly from the open window- memories of the night prior enter my thoughts. These memories are not bitter. They are sweet, and fresh, and my head spins. But in a good way of course. Last night is a slight blur; but I can easily recall everything that has happened. Or, should I say, had happened.
xXxXxXxXx
Nestled snugly in the library was where it was most commonly the shadow-like presence of the Cloaked Schemer could be found. He hid amongst the endless shelves, tall enough to touch the ceiling, and ran his gloved hands longingly over the exposed spines of the books so neatly organized within their oak home on the shelves.
The spines felt oh, so lovely beneath the young male's fingertips. He would allow his eyes to slip shut as he felt along the rows and rows of novels. He'd done this a thousand or more times; barely grazing his fingers over the spines to feel the indents each book wore. The lettering embedded in the bindings, or simply lines bent and worn into the material from use. Doing this little gesture so often allowed him to memorize the way the literature felt. This was a rare moment that Zexion allowed himself to relax.
He'd take in a deep inhale of the air in the library. It was heavy with the scent of ink, and paper, and the glue in the bindings. The faintest fragrance to others; but one of the strongest, and most potent to the young male. The seductive scent of age, and of wonder. The scent of novels. Of literature. Words printed on white, or off white pages that captivated the mind by means of the eyes dancing over the printings. Inhale. Exhale.
Beneath his gloved fingertips, the gunmetal haired youth would bestow loving touching's to the spines; feeling the curvature, the indents. He'd do this until finding something that felt completely natural and perfect to him. And thus, the novel for the evening would be selected and removed from its nesting place amongst the oak. The little male would attain to his quarters, settling in with that perfectly selected novel and read and read and read until his eyes scanned the last word on the final page tiredly. Once there; he'd allow himself the pleasure of dropping his heavy lids- book still in hand- and sleep for a couple of hours before his alarm would intrude on his sleep and inform him the time to arise was now. The day's missions would be then attended to after a quick shower and a change of clothes; until Zexion would return to the library and repeat the action. But not before replacing the previous night's novel to its original place.
This was the routine. The daily grind, so to say. The normal pattern the bright, icy eyed male had become accustomed to over his time spent with the Organization. He'd spend his evenings uninterrupted; the only company being the black printed words on the white, or off white pages before him. And that was enough for the young male. That was his ideal for existing.
Or so he thought.
That perfect little life he'd made for himself- his perfect little schedule- as it was, remained undisrupted for a lengthy amount of time. That was until one particularly quiet evening around the Castle. As Zexion found himself tending to the usual action of feeling longingly over the spines to make the perfect selection; a new scent cut through the usual scent of ink, and paper, and the glue in the bindings. A strong scent that did not so much assault Zexion's senses as much as it startled them.
The scent had almost a spice to it. Not a hot spice; but a bit of a zip that was reminiscent of charcoal, and cinnamon. It brought to mind the idea of the way a campfire pops and snaps as the wood burns and breaks. Or perhaps the way cinnamon leaves a bite on the tip of the tongue. Not overwhelming, but just enough so you can detect that it is there. The tiniest bite felt in the nostrils and back of the throat.
Zexion opened his eyes, dropping his gloved hand from the spines, and moved to peek around the oak shelving to discover the source of the spicy scent.
"Oh?" Came his calm, sure voice. It was not accusing; simply curious. He was no longer alone in the library.
"Who's there?" A semi-nervous sounding voice replied as a pair of wide, acidic jade eyes with the sparkle of a polished emerald in the sunlight scanned the area nervously. New eyes. New face. New member.
"Yes?" Came the same calm voice. "You're the new member, are you not?"
"Uh, yeah. That's me…" The higher pitched voice stopped for a moment. "…I think."
Coming out from behind the shelving and into plain view, Zexion was met with a close up view of the newly recruited eighth member. He looked vastly different face to face than from what the young slate haired male had seen sitting up in his high chair in the Round Room. Had those teardrop tattoos always been there?
"You're number VIII." The shorter male stated with an affirmative nod of his head. "The Flurry of Dancing Flames."
"Heh, sure." A hand came to rub at the back of his flame red spikes. Everything about this male was firesque. Standing a few feet away; Zexion could feel heat simply radiating off this man. Standing there could resemble standing almost too close to a fire. The shorter male didn't think he would be able to tolerate that.
"Nervous?"
"Me? Nervous? Nah." The seemingly older male waved a hand almost dismissively. "Just figurin' things out still."
Zexion nodded. "I take it you've not been given a tour of the castle?"
"Pretty much. They gave me a name and a number, and then told me to go and figure things out for myself. It's pretty a shitty deal if you ask me." The redhead gave a disinterested shrug before continuing. "Didja happen to give me your name?"
The younger shook his head. "I don't believe that you and I have been formally introduced. I'm the Organization's sixth member; Zexion."
Axel nodded. "Gotcha. So.." He began a bit awkwardly; his piercingly emerald eyes scanning the room once more. "You down here by yourself?"
"Correct."
"Why? Most everybody else is in that room with all of the chairs that are up way high. Y'know, where I came in?"
"You're speaking of the Round Room. It's a non-mandatory meeting being held. I prefer to avoid those when and if I am given the opportunity. They're usually discussing things I find rather unimportant."
"Yeah, yeah. That one." Axel shifted his weight uneasily. "Hey, er, um—"
"Zexion."
"Yeah, Zexion. Mind if I ask a favor?" More shifting.
"What would that be, VIII?"
"Can you help me learn the ropes? Y'know, just 'til I get the hang of things around here. I don't want to be the idiot newbie." The older male gave a bit of a chuckle. A starkly attractive sound.
The gunmetal haired male pursed his lips before nodding slowly. "I suppose it wouldn't be too much of a trouble. It's better you learn now then, hm?"
Axel shrugged. "Guess so, if that's what ya think. You seem to be the smarty pants kinda guy."
"I agree to show you the ropes, VIII. Come along with me now and I shall show you around the castle." Zexion began to ascend up the stairs; but he felt the lack of presence at his heels and stopped. "Well? Aren't you coming, VIII?"
The taller rubbed his hair again nervously before shoving his hands into his cloak pockets. "Yeah, but can I ask something else?"
"Yes?"
"I don't like the whole numbers as names thing you've got goin' on. Can you just call me Axel? It'll help me get used to hearin' it."
"Okay, Axel. Follow me then. We've a lot to cover."
"Can I call you Zexy?" Axel asked as he tagged along at the younger male's heels.
"Don't push your luck, VIII."
"Right. Sorry." He said with a laugh. And at the sound, Zexion couldn't help but crack a smile.
xXxXxXxXx
The early morning breeze, as I'd come to discover, was always cooler than the sun ripened one of the afternoon; but still not as briskly chilly as the one in the nighttime hours. The early wind had something that of the nighttime lacked, however. There was freshness. Vitality was held in the cool, calm, crisp air that would slowly mellow throughout the day, similar to the wakefulness that anybody possessed first thing in the morning. Myself included.
Shifting beneath me derailed my thoughts on the wind; though it still laps at my bare, pale flesh hungrily. But I am not cold.
More shifting, a slight groan and a quiet yawn are all signs of wakefulness. Lifting the veil of my lids from my eyes, I come to meet the face of my lover. His face is serene as an ocean after a storm; and his sparkling emerald meet the piercing blue that I possess. He smiles, and I feel light. His lips are thin and delicious- I would know considering I've been privileged with the taste they allow- with a magnetic power that draws me in.
That smile is for me. It's as gentle as the way his hand moves to caress my pale cheek and push aside my obstructive hair. My entire face is exposed to be looked at by him.
"Good morning, beautiful."
That voice has me falling in love all over again. His vocal cords project silk words over his perfect lips that form the words, and I feel a smile playing on my own lips. His smile widens at my own. My happiness is his. The tones in his voice are higher than those my own, but I prefer listening to his voice his over that of myself. I could simply listen to him whisper to me, speak to me, and feel what it's like to be caressed and kissed by words.
He leans in then and I know what he's planning to do before he does it. That's the reason I lean in and meet him halfway as I tilt my head slightly to the right so we avoid bumping noses. My nose is sensitive to scents, and his sensitivity comes from touches. No need to jolt him.
Soft lips press into mine and my eyes are cloaked once again by my lids as I melt into him. He floods me with a variety of sensations I've discovered that I am completely aware of and cannot help but notice and utterly adore.
Warm hands, larger than my own two, glide in a fashion similar to that of the lapping breeze over my shoulders and to the pale flesh of my bare back. Light, dancing touches send electricity up my spine as his fingertips ghost along my flesh. I sigh into him, and he sighs into me. My own two hands come up from holding around his shoulders to cup his cheeks. I use this gesture as a mean to maintain further physical contact and pull him closer to me. Our lips meld and we breathe life into one another.
xXxXxXxXx
It'd become pretty standard for Axel to complete his missions as quickly as he possibly could without being accused of doing a shitty job. He hated working and missions; but he hated being scolded more.
Though, once he'd finished up the work for the day he wasted no time summoning a dark corridor and making his way into the - in his opinion- dank library to wait. He'd wander the isles and endless shelves of books and skim the spines for titles that intrigued him. Often times he did it out of boredom; but when he was aware the wait time would be a longer than average one; he'd do it to actually hunt up something to read to pass the time.
Eventually, Zexion would show up. He was quite particular about how he completed his missions. Being a stickler for hard work and not much so discipline, but fulfilling one's duties to the best of his or her ability, the young male continuously showed up a bit late to the library. Axel continued to receive gentle smacks to the arm because of this and his natural urge to tease once Zexion arrived.
"How was work today?"
Zexion took a couple of silent steps to the back of the library, his boots making little sound, as he was met by the warm smile of greeting plastered on the older male's lips. He sat down as quietly as he walked; gingerly rubbing at his slightly swollen left cheek. Having skin as pale as his meant that bruising and marks happened faster and with much less effort.
Axel's smile faded and his expression took on that of concern. "What happened to your face?"
"I encountered a large heartless they'd forgotten to include on the mission report. Being as unprepared as I was, I now have a few wounds to nurse." Zexion was trying to reduce the pain in his cheek by rubbing at it. Obviously, it didn't help. He only hoped it would.
"Jesus, Zex. Ya gotta be more careful out there. C'mere and let me look."
"Axel, no, I'm fine."
"You're not. Come here." Axel scooted closer to the shorter male seated a foot or two away and lightly slapped away the rubbing hand of the bluenette. His cheek was red and little puffy with a deep purple bruise forming in the center. It didn't look too bad; nothing a little ice and painkiller couldn't handle. Axel squinted a bit and scrutinized the damage before ghosting his lips over it in a kiss.
Zexion nearly jolted at the gesture. "Did you just…"
"Kiss you?" Axel pulled away only slightly with a gentle laugh. "Yup."
The shorter male met the other's dancing emerald eyes. He smirked, but not in the usual mischievous way he normally did. Zexion wasn't rebuked; surprisingly enough. He hated contact normally but this was something entirely different. Warmth pooled in his stomach and chest where his heart should've been. "Why?"
Axel shrugged nonchalantly as his gaze never left the wide icy blue eyes, (correction; eye.). "I just wanted to see if you'd been all disgusted by it and whatnot."
"Care to explain further..?"
The redhead shook his head with a gentle laugh. "I'd rather show you." Axel brought a hand to cup carefully at Zexion's jawline as he leant in and felt his eyes slipping shut. Even more surprising was that Zexion not only let his own eyes slip close, but he leant in to meet Axel halfway. As much as he hated to admit it to himself; the younger male wanted this. He wanted to taste Axel's lips.
This kiss itself was gentle and sweet. It left a slightly spicy, charcoal and cinnamon taste on the bluenette's lips, and a cool taste on redhead's— comparable to mint, maybe? Axel's lips lingered on Zexion's before he pulled away and met a pair of wide icy blue eyes. Neither said much for a moment until the bluenette grinned softly.
"Wait a minute… You liked that!" Axel said teasingly but couldn't help mirror Zexion's own grin.
"Want to know what else I like?"
"What's that, Zex?"
"I'd very much like for you to do that again."
xXxXxXxXx
His lips are a thing of wonder for me. He can do so much with that mouth of his. I mean this in the most innocent way possible, but I cannot avoid that fact that we've slept with one another before. But that is beside the point, and thus, I digress.
The force in this kiss is almost nonexistent. It's not vigorous and wanting and hungry as other kisses are. It's gentle and sweet and lingering. His lips possess the gentleness of a sweet 'good morning' as they mould with my own. The spice of charcoal and cinnamon of his lips play on my mouth as his scent fills my nostrils. I simply cannot get enough of him.
Soft, gentle sighs of pleasure escape out from him as he parts my upper and lower lips with his upper. Pieces of a puzzle made just for each other. He pulls me in further with gentle sucking to my lower lip. I can taste his spice on my tongue. It tingles and dances in my mouth and on my tongue; firing up my dull senses with the pure essence of him. I simply cannot get enough of the fire he starts in me.
Fingertips dance over the pale flesh of my back as lightly as his taste does over my tongue. Everything in this moment is picture perfect as he sighs and I mimic the gesture. We breathe life into each other in this kiss, like every other before it.
The air is still cool and crisp as it never stops lapping at my back, and my face. But at his face, and his shoulders as well. We pull our lips apart just enough so our lips can form words without being muffled; yet the pink, flushed flesh still touches. We linger and say nothing because there is nothing in this moment that need be said. The stillness of the room is broken only by the sounds of our breathing; hitched from the lovely kiss. Inhale. Exhale. Calm our breathing down; but simultaneously breathe in the essence that one another emits.
I can still taste the spice on, and in, my mouth. He's told me I taste like mint and eucalyptus. Quite the odd combination but he seems to like it. And I'm rather addicted to his spice. To the life he breathes into me. To the kisses and the caresses and the sweetness of it all. Perfection.
We pull away so the sparkling, sun kissed emerald of his eyes can thaw the ice blue of mine. Soft smiles mirror each other as our breathing has calmed. The atmosphere is still and smooth and beautiful. He makes the scenery so much more enjoyable than the dark décor amongst my quarters.
The obstructive slate bangs have taken once more to their residence over my eye. He looks at me- lower lip jutting out in a pout directed towards my hair- and brings a single hand from dancing along my bare back to my face. The other hand never ceases the loving caresses against my pale flesh.
The free hand pushes the bangs to the side, tucking them behind my ear in a fluid movement so that the only remnants that his hand was there is the palm lingering on my pale face as he cups my cheek.
"So gorgeous…" He muses with a smile as the emerald sparkles with life; reflecting against the soft ice in my blue gaze. Ice that he melts into a pool he then swims in. I smile lovingly at him. And he thinks I'm gorgeous.
xXxXxXxXx
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as Axel was rarely without Zexion by his side; and vice versa, of course. They'd kept their informal relationship exclusive; cutting off all other ties they had sexually to the other members. Nobody questioned it because no one cared enough to. With nine members now; the other members, and rumors of a tenth on the way, were far too busy with 'breaking in' the new guy to notice the lack of VI and VIII's presence. Thankfully enough for them; they'd gotten away scott-free.
Each day after their missions, Axel would portal into Zexion's room and wait for him to return. If he wanted to fluster his boyfriend, he'd occasionally lie on the bed- stark naked- and once Zexion returned, he toss him a playful wink and throw him a comment like, "paint me like one of your French Nobodies." This would cause the bluenette to laugh hysterically and blush before he'd grab Axel's cloak from the floor and toss it at him. He'd often accuse the redhead of being indecent and try to avert his eyes. But Zexion was a bit saucy in his ways and would occasionally sneak a glance at what Axel was packing.
A couple of weeks passed this way with Zexion coming into his room to find Axel naked and wanting him. But he always denied the taller male his body. Not because he was a pretentious little bitch- or a virgin because he had slept with a few of the other members on false pretenses it could help him feel a little more whole- but simply because he was afraid of turning Axel off from him. Number VIII was all the little male had. He struggled to bond with any other members on anything but a sexual level, aside of Lexaeus and Vexen of course, and he felt no need to risk losing the only one who'd ever made him feel complete since losing his heart.
But, this all changed one late night when Zexion came to the conclusion he'd lose Axel if he didn't sleep with him. The rumor going around the Castle was that the Flurry of Dancing Flames was the best lay; next to Xemnas of course. But the rumor about the Superior being a good lay was only put out as a bunch of ass kissing. He was limp and small and moaned like a goat. However, that disturbing knowledge was beside the point. Axel was known for his unusually high sex drive; and for somebody being denied sex night after night of heavy make-out sessions must have been torture. Zexion was afraid Axel would second guess their relationship; and just like that, they'd been over and done. This was a reoccurring nightmarish thought that had the potential to be real. The bluenette knew he'd have to cave soon enough. The risk wasn't worth it.
During a particularly quiet and stormy evening in the castle; Zexion was comfortably situated in Axel's lap with his back to the redheads' chest and his bottom flush against the other member's, well, member. The two were innocently relaxing after the day's work in Zexion's room and doing nothing more than enjoying one another's company. Not the greatest way to spend an evening- in Axel's opinion - but it made his boyfriend happy and he simply agreed and went with it.
The younger of the two was reading a novel and absent mindedly swaying back and forth as his eyes skimmed the page. Axel groaned behind him and uttered a curse, and then through both their cloaks, something was poking into said younger's backside.
His head instantly whipped up and he dropped the book onto the bed; no longer interested in what the pages had to offer.
"Axel."
"…Zex." His voice was a bit strangled. It was obvious he was holding himself back the best he could. "Sorry… I'm sorry. You are sitting right on my groin and you're swaying—"
"I want to sleep with you."
Axel's jaw nearly dropped. "Come again?"
Zexion pushed the book off of the bed and it hit the floor with a muted thud. He turned to sit on his knees and face the older male with desire in his eyes. He wanted Axel too, and there was no use putting it off any longer. If Axel wanted to leave after this; then he had all right to.
"I said that I want to have sex with you."
Emerald eyes sparkled and Axel sighed in relief. "Are you…sure? I mean, the first time, it hurts—"
Zexion pressed a finger to Axel's lips; his blue eyes pleading. "No, no, I'm not a virgin. It's just that, um, well…"
The redhead pulled Zexion's finger off of his lips. Why was he nervous? "What is it, Zexy, babe? Tell me."
Zexion flushed a deep red and looked down. He could discuss sex with a straight face and show nothing; but he was ashamed over his tendencies. "I just don't want to turn you off from me, as all."
Axel scoffed. "Is that so? What makes you think anything about you would? I've been dying to see what you're hiding under that cloak of yours."
"I'm a screamer. And I'm truly afraid that is going to turn you off from me—" At this, much to the bluenette's dismay, Axel laughed. He tried to hide it; but it erupted from his chest and he simply couldn't. "What is so funny?!" Zexion demanded, looking up to meet Axel's eyes once more. Oh no… He was being laughed at.
"Zexion, that is insanely sexy. Why the fuck would you be ashamed of something like that? One of my little kinks is to hear my partner moaning for me and expressing their pleasure and what they want. Fucking you and hearing you scream will be the ultimate in sex for me. Is that why you've been putting this off?"
"Well…yes. I did not expect you to feel that way."
"You're so silly, Zexy~" Axel cooed and leant forward to press a kiss into the other male's forehead. A hand came to slip under the little male's coat and ghost over the front of his jeans. Zexion visibly shuddered. He hadn't slept with anyone in months and was suffering from a serious case of blue balls. "Oh yeah; I'm going to enjoying fucking you into oblivion. I want to hear my name come screaming from your mouth as you come."
And if either male was having doubts about if they loved the other, all doubts were immediately vanquished them; along with the nearly unbearable sexual tension. From then on, there were a lot of long, sticky, sweaty nights bouncing between VI and VIII's rooms. If nobody else knew these two were sleeping together; they sure knew it now.
xXxXxXxXx
Time has gone by and we haven't done much aside from share a kiss and exchange a few words that cannot even be considered sentences. Sweet nothings that are dripping in pure affection meant only for one another to hear. Words dripping with truth and genuinely beautiful smiles lingering on our flushed lips after the words have gone and passed and are left to linger in the air above our heads. Even the cool, crisp air takes on a delicious sweetness from the words we're pouring into it. Nothing sickly sweet and maple syrup thick; more comparable to the delicate fragrance spring blossoms gently infiltrate and penetrate the air with. It lingers but bothers no one. In fact; they well so enjoy the sweetness as I do now.
The day lying ahead is tainted with missions and dangerous work that risks our lives. We know this. We're fully well aware that not only us, but any other member of the organization has the potential to take their final breaths this day. It's a morbid, depressing thought, I fully agree; but it is the undeniable truth. Nobody in this organization can pretend that each day we go out on a mission will be a guaranteed safe return with little more than a bruise and a couple of scrapes; or broken bone, perhaps at best. Nobody can reassure themselves if they take enough potions and cure magic they'll be just fine. It simply cannot be done and there is no use in trying and falsely reassure oneself that way. It'll only make losing a member on the field that much more difficult to bear when and if the time does come.
That's why when we first began to date officially; we swore to one another we'd not be too broken up if one of us was to not return. It was the hardest thing I'd ever agreed to in my entire eighteen years of life- in all of my short existence- and it absolutely needed to be done, needless to say why. But we both fully well knew if that were the case; that if one goes, as does the other. Suicide in the name of love. Dramatic and Shakespearean, yes, but neither of us could stand being without the other. He was all I had, and I all he had.
I must've been zoned out and quite lost in my own morbid thoughts seeming as though he moved the hand cupping my cheek to tilt under my chin and force me to meet his concerned eyes. I gave him a reassuring smile to speak that I was okay without voicing it. My thoughts tended to travel dark roads, and I'd often get lost amongst them. One of my more depressing habits, I can't deny that, but it was out of my control. My mind was intelligent but dark. I worried too much for my own good.
"What's up?" The softness of his voice was easily comparable to a protective hug. His tone was smoother than silk; but with worried edge to it. Not something I enjoyed hearing.
I shook my head. "Morbid thoughts as all." I was never one to not speak the truth of what exactly on my mind. Liars infuriated me; and thus I vowed to never be one, no matter the circumstances. If you were too ashamed to admit the truth; you never should have committed the crime to begin with. It was simple logic. Well, to me it was.
He nodded slowly then and his fingers drew absent minded doodles against the canvas of my pale flesh as his hand never left my back. I relaxed instantly into him and his touch; melting in a way comparable to chocolate baking beneath a summer sun on blacktop. He just had that effect on me. Not to mention; the warmth his hands- as well as the rest of his body- continuously radiated. My own personal, walking heater.
We sat together in a peaceful silence after that. Outside my open window; the cloud cover had increased and it had opened up as it began to rain softly. Rain was undeniably the standard weather for The World That Never Was. And I didn't mind the weather one bit. The sound and scent of the rain had always been two of my unfailing favorite things. The rain provided a soothing white noise that life's melody played to in perfect harmony. The scent was clean and had the ability to wash my troubles away; though not that I had many that needed washing. I simply liked the rain and being poetic about it. So sue me.
My head eventually made its way to rest against the slightly tanned flesh of my lover's torso. His breathing whilst resting was always at a steady, even rate. It was calming to listen to; even without the thrum of his heart to echo it. I'm sure if there were to be a heartbeat there to listen to, it'd be something deep, and even, steady, and equally as calming as his breathing. My heartbeat would be fast, and shallow like my breathing. Not relaxing or soothing like his even slightly. But the two sounds- against the solemn, soothing quiet in the room- complimented each other. I loved the quiet and the stillness. I loved him.
Over the course of what could've been an hour or possibly more; I found myself to be fully and completely relaxed against my lover. His breathing had slowed down further, and I assumed he'd fallen asleep. Neither of us had moved or exchanged any words in all that time. It was common for him to simply drift off and not even realize he'd done so until waking later and asking me what year it was in his confused stupor as he pulled from unconsciousness. Not only was it amusing to no end to see him that way; but it was also cute to see a normally hot headed assassin be so confused after an innocent nap; of all things.
My suspicion that he'd fallen asleep proved to be false as I lifted my head to gaze at his emerald eyes watching me with a loving intent. I cocked one of my slate brows- the one not being currently covered as my hair had yet again fallen into my face- and quirked a grin as he chuckled that lovely chuckle of his. The only thing more attractive than his perfectly white, straight toothed smile was the throaty laugh of his. Music to my ears.
"Something's funny?" I asked quietly as and brought my hands to lie against his chest with the palms down and rest my chin atop my hands.
He gave me a grin and leant up just enough to peck my forehead with those lips of his. Pulling away with the grin still in place; his fingers no longer danced along my flesh as both lanky arms wound around my waist. "You."
"Me?"
"Mm." He nodded with a contented sigh.
"Pray tell why, exactly?"
"You're sighing all contentedly and whatnot."
I smiled gently at my lover. "I just love it as all."
He was the one to now quirk a short brow at me. "Love what?"
"The simplicity of you." He sat up and kissed at my throat as I spoke.
"Whatever that means." He then laughed and nuzzled against my neck. I could feel him smiling against my skin as he spoke. He knew exactly what I meant.
And even without a heart; I'm complete as I'll ever be at this moment and any other I'm bound to spend with him. I'm pleased with my life, with what my existence is, with what and who I've become. Perfectly, utterly, one hundred and ten percent contented with the simplicity of us.
xXxXxXxXx
[A/n: TBC? Perhaps if I feel up to writing a sequel. This story is told in POV/flashback form. In case you haven't picked it up, I wrote the POV parts in Zexion's POV; just to clarify. That aside, I truly hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed drabbling it out. I'm so proud of it; even though it's not as long as I thought it might've been. Can you please review and let me know what you think? I'd really appreciate it if you want a sequel. I have a few ideas for that, if you'd like to see it. Thanks for reading and have a lovely day, evening, or night.]