Written on dare when I really should have been studying for my exam. Thanks, pockymarawr, for that, by the way… All failure will be blamed on you.
"What are you implying?" he asked, leaning back and smiling at his almost miraculous good fortune.
It probably was a good thing he hadn't put that gun to his head and pulled the trigger that morning. But, then again, that could have been more because the redhead couldn't find said gun.
The blonde stared at him for a minute, wishing desperately that he could simply blow away that irritating smirk. But he needed Axel's help now more then ever. Not that he had needed the taller males help before, but really that was inconsequential. He needed help and that's all that mattered right at that instant, meaning he couldn't stab the other or shoot or cut or slice or anything. Later, however…
"I'm saying that I need your help," he spat, attempting to contain his anger at Axel's ever-present smirk.
"And I would help you, why?" the older male asked, never changing the inflection in his tone, nor his facial expression, only moving his hand to withdraw a lighter from his long black trench coat before lighting it and putting it out, lighting it and putting it out in a pattern that was just as mesmerizing as the arrogant expression on his face.
To be honest – as both males rarely were –there wasn't much point to having any sort of facial expression. A smile from two as angry and unapproachable as they were was always somewhat sinister and a frown was just another reason to run. They were dangerous people, and not only to other people.
That having been said, they weren't friends, nor were they anything alike. But then, its said that opposites attract not just in earth-breaking, soul-shattering passion, but also in friendships and alliances, no matter how disagreeable or brief.
"You'll help me because you relish the idea of having something over my head," Roxas said bitterly, all too aware that he couldn't be too crass, he still needed the elder's help in the elaborate scheme designed to free Olette.
"Wait," Axel ordered coldly, the contained violence within him that was always just below the surface threatening to explode. "Say that again. Word for word."
The blonde boy knew his temper could only last so long. He hated feeling helpless or dependant, too many memories of a childhood fraught with pain and despair for him to ever be happy with or even tolerant of any form of subservience. And the redhead certainly wasn't helping his already volatile mood, with that strangely excited face staring at him, waiting ever-so-patiently for Roxas – who was almost completely at his mercy – to do as he was told.
"You will help me because you relish-" Roxas began, biting out every word through clenched teeth, only to be cut off in surprise when Axel leapt from his reclining position only to run out of the room.
Speaking
of the room that had been deemed private enough for secret and most
probably illicit dealings, it wasn't actually derelict or horribly
furnished. For all intents and purposes, the casual armchairs,
TV
and even the mini-fridge in the corner could account for a regular
visitor or even a permanent resident.
But really, would Axel be so foolish as to invite someone who was practically an enemy into his home?
But then, this was Axel he was thinking about. No on had ever professed to know the reasons behind any of the older male's actions, but every person Axel encountered could attest to the fact that he always achieved his goals, that he was always even in control, even if his actions was a direct counterbalance to that. This was Axel, who was so goddamn bipolar that he ran back into the room, just as abruptly. The only difference being the almost context expression on his face and the gun in his hand.
"Relish," he mumbled continuously, starting to clean the gun.
"What?" Roxas asked, incredulous at the sudden mood swing.
At this point Axel was oblivious to his guests confusion as he answered absently, not entirely aware of what he was saying, "My gun. That I couldn't find. It was in the fridge. Next to the relish. I had nachos. Wanted relish. Put gun there. Forgot."
Then, still oblivious to the fact that he had company, he put the gun to his head and cocked it.
"Stop!" Roxas screamed.
Now, don't go looking at this situation the wrong way. Roxas did not care for Axel in any way. In fact, if not for the fact that he needed Axel's help, Roxas would not have regretted the loss of the taller male from their forsaken world. He would have welcomed it, if not for the fact that he had no inclination to see yet another person's brains splattered against the walls and ceiling like some kind of macabre artwork.
"Yes?" Axel asked, his mood swinging back to the more predominant sarcastic, resentful antagonism.
"You were going to help me?" The blonde prompted, tempted to dimply walk out.
But he needed the older males help and aggravating him wouldn't do any good.
In theory, Roxas' theory was completely unfounded. People like Axel and Roxas weren't capable of feeling lust, irritation or any other thing could be even remotely classified as emotion. Well, that's what they had been told anyway and it wasn't like there had ever been any significant evidence to the contrary. The mild and pretty much insignificant emotions that Roxas experienced in the presence of Hayner, Ollette and Pence could be passed of as tolerance at the least and good old cave men territoriality at the most. Aggravation and other strong – although generally negative – emotions seemed only to be appear in the direct vicinity of the red headed pyromaniac, sometimes as a direct result of something that said red head did but usually were completely unprovoked. There was just something unintentionally irritating about him.
"And – keep in mind that I am not agreeing to anything – what is it that you actually need my help with" Axel asked, that sardonic tone fraying on Roxas' already taut nerves.
Now this was were it got awkward. How to propose something vaguely obscene and completely unorthodox without making it seem vaguely obscene and completely unorthodox? And, coming form a person who may of well have been a homophobe, this was going to get really tense, really fast.
"Well… uh… you see… uh…" Roxas stammered, seeming to find the floor suddenly very interesting.
"Spit it out!" Axel ordered, sounding as if every word – however irrelevant – was a blow to his temporarily fragile ego. In doing so, he started to put the gun to his temple with the same weariness evident in his voice, "I'm not wishing for human company right now."
Wondering how Axel managed to sound so articulate, even with a half-smoked cigarette in one hand and a lungful of smoke from were he'd just inhaled half of the aforementioned, recently lighted cigarette the blonde tried to continue, "Well, Olette… and… uh… she… you know-"
"Talk or leave," Axel ordered, his mood swinging to anger instead of indifference, still with the gun to his own hand.
"I want you to be my boyfriend," Roxas gushed out, his usually stoic face turning red even through the heavy tan he acquired over the long summer.
Axel froze in the motion of putting his cigarette back to his lips. He raised a single eyebrow in silent question, deciding that it was too much effort to be surprised. Although, he admitted that he did find the blonde somewhat amusing, but only when he himself was in certain emotional states.
"Would you masquerade as my boyfriend?" Roxas clarified, wishing futilely that he was somewhere else.
"Do explain," Axel said, taking yet another drag of his almost gone cigarette, leaning back even further into the armchair he was lounging in, ignoring the way that the exposed springs were digging into his scrawny body.
"Well, Olette got into a relationship with this guy. She claims to love him but-"
"You want to make her jealous? Or is it him that you want to make jealous?"
"No! Shut up and let me talk! Her boyfriend is controlling and gets jealous really easily-"
"Like you are now?" Axel asked, still multitasking and still not really paying attention to the currently aggravated blonde.
"No! He's controlling and she claims to love him. But because he's jealous, he won't let us see her because he thinks that we want her. So we can see her – because she's not willing to leave him – we have to appear to be taken or gay. Seeing as none of us can stand Kairi or any of the skanks on this godforsaken island, we decided to pretend to be gay. Cloud, Saix and Xemnas are already gay enough and we don't really want them to start hitting on us, not even for Olette. So Hayner and Pence thought they should pretend to be together seeing as everyone thinks they are anyway. That leaves me lone and I need to pretend too and you were the only one left that was believable who wasn't straight nor in a relationship… So… Yeah."
"Who are you to say that I'm not straight?" Axel asked dangerously, putting out his cigarette and pointing the gun in Roxas' general direction.
Roxas
swallowed quickly and stammered, now nervous, "Um… Well… a few
months back… we were looking on YouTube… and… well… you and…
uh… Marluxia,
Demyx, Vexen, X-"
"Marluxia, Demyx and I did what?" Axel asked softly, cocking the gun.
"Well, put it this way," Roxas said slowly before spitting the rest out in a rush, "No one had any doubts about the level of interest you have in women… Or lack thereof."
Axel, for some most-assuredly absurd reason, suddenly looked interested.
"Were we drunk?"
"No," Roxas answered carefully, not sure what tangent the red-heads mind had gone off on and not exactly willing to find out.
"Was it the one with the whips and handcuffs and Demyx tied to a-"
Frighteningly, Axel's questions sounded serious, so Roxas cut in before he could learn anymore, "No."
"Oh. Which one was it then?" he mused, sinking even further back into his chair, trying to remember.
"It was called Pyromania Porn Part Three," Roxas said so quickly that the sentence sounded lke it was only one word. Then, clearer, "Are you going to help me or not?"
Yet another mood swing occurred that left Roxas even more confused and twitchy then he already was… If that was psychologically possible. Instead of being trigger happy as he had been only a moment ago, or as hyperactive as he was before he found the gun, his mood changing to a subtle kind of seduction, mercilessly sensual and entirely annoying.
Axel smiled, showing just the barest hint of teeth. Then, stroking the gun in his hands in a manner highly reminiscent of an action Roxas really didn't want to think about, he purred, "What's in it for me?"
"What do you want?" Roxas questioned, backing away even though Axel was still firmly seated.
Needless to say, he regretted those words soon after they left his cavernous mouth. Which was coincidentally also minute seconds after Axel stood from the armchair he had been in and started gliding towards the blonde, who continued to back up, ignoring the various sharp and painful items that he was tripping over and standing on.
"I thought you would never ask," he crooned, walking haltingly around Roxas.
Axel smiled, not hiding the manic edge to his expression, nor the slightest hint of crazy that lingered in the around him like some form of expensive perfume. Then, heedless of the inevitable consequences, he started delicately stroking the younger boy's hair, almost finishing walking a full circle around Roxas before doing something completely unexpected.
He bit him.
Axel's change in mood didn't actually manage to shock Roxas. He was kind of getting used to the fact that Axel was one undoubtedly crazy son of a bitch – the rumors must have been based on truth after all. No, what was making him fill with fear and a slight kind of instinctual, sick anticipation was that Axel wasn't letting go.
In the middle of the blonde's confusion, the red head had latched and locked his arms around the younger boy and continued to tear at the sensitive skin. This was no love bite, but the most primal and sexual kind of violence.
The same kind of violence that had Roxas struggling against the elder's hold, freezing only when the red head murmured in his ear, "They won't believe us if we don't play properly," sounding like a very small child.
"I'm straight," Roxas panted, almost passing out from the loss of oxygen in his body – caused by Axel's stranglehold.
"So was I."
Was.
"I don't like men like that!" he exclaimed, trying again to get away.
"All it takes is a little… push," Axel whispered, his mouth blowing warm air over his captive's ears.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he screamed, blonde hair flying as he wrenched out of the pyro's grip, turning to face him with a look of utmost confusion and an almost delectable fear.
Suddenly, Axel was innocent.
Playing innocent, really. Someone couldn't really be innocent after appearing in every newspaper across the world after having been arrested for treason and the biggest terrorist bombing in the world. Axel had been declared innocent and released on the grounds of temporary insanity. It wasn't that hard to the red head of insanity at that time, especially since his only defense was, 'But it looked so pretty burning!'
So, yes he thought Axel was only playing at being innocent.
His suspicions were confirmed – not that the really needed to be, a good dose of paranoia was healthy after all – when he received the answer to his question in a sickly sweet, saccharine tone, "Isn't that what you asked me to do?"
It was too bad that puppy dog eyes didn't work when paired with blood red hair that was only inches away from being set on fire by an open flame, Roxas thought, because goddamn Axel's cute like that.
Wait.
What?
Axel, seeing that his prey was weakening – suffering serious mental trauma – stepped forward, switching from innocent to blatant seduction in a heartbeat or less.
Maybe he should be tested for bipolar? Insanity wasn't about to get him out of the scenario he was inevitable going to find himself in soon.
Speaking of which, he pounced.
Okay, so he didn't pounce per se, but the intent was the same. Both the action that Axel did and the act of pouncing but made the person or thing doing it leap from one spot to another in a display of unexpected athletic ability, usually to land on prey.
Axel's prey just so happened to be short, muscular, blonde and human.
Oh well.
Sparse seconds later, Roxas found himself pinned between a figurative rock and a literal hard place. Axel and the wall, that was. Not that Axel didn't feel like a rock or anything, but that really wasn't the point.
I don't like men, Roxas thought resolutely, trying yet again to get away.
Very soon after the pinning to the wall, as Axels continued to tear at his prisoners neck and jaw, making his way up slowly to the blonde's succulent lips. As a direct result of this action, Roxas' original point was becoming rather blunt.
I don't like men, Roxas thought, trying to keep up some kind of mental tirade.
Then Axel's lips claimed his own.
I don't like men.
Then their shirts were removed and both of their hands started wandering, the blondes moving of their own accord, the red heads moving very distinctly south.
I don't like men.
Then Axel's hands reached their destination.
I like men.
Ah, fuck.
--
It was a distinct possibility that he shouldn't have taken advantage of the younger male. Maybe, just maybe he should have stopped when Roxas brought out the camera and started taking Polaroid's. Perhaps he should have struggled against the handcuffs when Roxas got that cruel gleam in his eye. Or possibly he should have said the safe word the first time the blonde smiled.
But, all in all, the blondes sweat-soaked, glistening body was too much of a temptation, the promise of that carnal pain too agonizingly enticing to resist. The bruises and the bleeding would serve as a reminder for weeks to come, the scars for even longer, a memory of that masochistic pleasure, the secret rendezvous he could never tell a soul about, the tale he would take to his grave.
Maybe he should have said no, but it was too late now.
And maybe, just maybe, feeling – even if it was pain – feeling at all was worth the agony of separation.