His breath hitches almost embarrassingly as he is pressed deep inside, as delicate, experienced fingers brush, catlike, up his chest to pool at his neck, to knead the tight knots of muscles at his shoulders. Marluxia nips a kiss-lick at his chin, then finds his mouth to coax his tongue out to play with his.
Sex has never been so simple, Vexen decides as he lets out a giddy moan, bucking his hips to push himself deeper inside Marluxia. He draws out a pleasurable moan that reverberates close to his empty chest, and his hands roam, roam across the tightly interlocked threads of intercostal muscles – is that the word? In the heat of passion, Vexen can't remember and nor does he care to - to the smooth, taut skin of Marluxia's back, finding that little heart shaped dent at the base of his spine. It curves deliciously as Marluxia raises himself up from Vexen's stomach again, hands finding nipples, finding a belly button, finding wide, bony hips, the strawberry taste of gloss lingering on Vexen's lips.
Even as he lets out a whisper of a cry and presses his head back to press himself in, and Marluxia whimpers somewhere, spreading his legs wider across him, Vexen knows that if Marluxia can help it, this isn't going to happen again. Marluxia is domineering, and very often cruel; he is fickle when it comes to physical pleasure: if it isn't intense with lips locked tight enough to draw asphyxiated blood and fingers clenched hard enough to speckle smooth skin with bruises, he gets bored. Marluxia is not one for consideration of others as he relentlessly pursues his own personal satisfaction.
As Marluxia spasms, head thrown back, and releases himself, Vexen knows that this is very likely going to be his last chance to enjoy such a perfect body in such a perfect, submissive mindset. As the younger man shivers with aftershocks, he rolls them over and slams inside again, and again, and again, until Marluxia screams with pleasure and pain, a drunken smile on his face, eyes closed tightly as his fingertips curl, arms lax by his side. He moans orders, a shadow of his usual self, but to Vexen they sound like pleas, and he'd have complied even if Marluxia had never asked.
He feels his own climax draw near and savours every split second, their skin rubbing together like - like tectonic plates building up to the devastating earthquake. He buries himself deeper, trying to describe the guttural moan that escapes his lips as he spills his seed.
He can't.
Marluxia is breathless, glowing, and he weakly reaches up and drags Vexen down to be sticky with him. As limbs entangle and lips clash, he giggles.
"Love you~"
Vexen sighs. Such ridiculous notions for two hollow beings whose only connection lies in sharing a bed. Were it even possible, he thinks, he wouldn't have chosen this particular bundle of narcissistic feminism to love.
"I love you too."
Marluxia smiles distantly, licking Vexen's lips and pressing his tongue a little way inside. Even with lip gloss and a few mints, Vexen can taste the alcohol on the other man's breath.
Whoever thought that it was a good idea to get Marluxia completely and utterly, borderline paralytically drunk must have been out of their minds at the time.
As he settles down, Vexen makes a mental note to thank them.