Disclaimer: I'd love to, but I don't own the characters. Just the retarded things I make them do.
So yeah. After an 1000 year hiatus, I come with but another crappy, short one-shot. And... not AkuRoku? What's the world coming to? Anyway... Smut. Smut smut smut. I don't even know what I was thinking. Try not to make fun of me and think of me lower after you read this sad sad attempt.
He was different. Among the ravaging mob of teenage head bangers and druggies, behind all the maybe college-aged freak dancers, sat that one man. He was there at every show, always in that same booth drinking a martini, dressed as if he was going to some classy party. He was probably at least in his late twenties, more likely in his early thirties. He was always looking at me. He was always piercing me with that gaze, as if he was observing me like some specimen. It was incredibly… erotic.
"Hey, Axel, you know that guy?"
"What guy, Demyx?"
"You know, that guy!"
Axel gave me that look again. The one that says, "Retard, you're not making sense."
"Okay, okay," I took a couple deep breaths, trying to put my thoughts together into coherent sentences. "He's… older. He's at every show… He—"
"The creeper? Yeah sure, I know him," Axel said nonchalantly, shining up his guitar.
"What? Creeper? Axel!" I pouted. Axel could be a real dickhead.
"What? Seriously, it's the facts! He's got to be at least thirty-five or something! What kind of thirty something year old listens to our kind of rock!" Axel gripped. He walked away, his red hair bouncing as he went to talk to Xigbar, our manager.
"Yeah… I guess…"
Sweat. Love. Music.
And he was there. Watching me as I sang, as I plucked the strings of my sitar, as I touched the hands grasping for my sticky body. It was so hot… The air was getting so humid… I loved it. The look he was giving me sent shivers up my spine, like some kind of ice-cold pleasure in the middle of the inferno.
Like sex on the beach.
A bulge was forming in my pants. The people were screaming. Axel grabbed my crotch, sending lightning through my senses, resulting in some rowdy cheers and yells. I moaned into the mic. I opened my sealed eyes a crack, heatedly looking at the man. He was smirking. Sick bastard. Axel started to move his hand, and I continued to moan out my melody. The man licked the edge of his glass, tongue wrapping around the toothpick, bringing the olive into his mouth, slowly, seductively.
I moaned louder.
It was like having sex across the room.
My breathing was getting heavier.
The olive was crushed between his pearly whites.
Axel began to rub, his hips grinding forward against my ass.
He licked his lips before taking another sip of his sparkling martini.
My song was lost. The band kept playing, but my vocals had been reduced to moans of ecstasy. My sitar hung by my side, untouched. My left hand gripped the mic, keeping it glued to my mouth as I continued to moan and breath, my right hand tangled in Axel's red mane, urging him to not stop. My foggy gaze stayed locked on my man. The crowd was going mad, their own desires, their sick fantasies unfolding before them on a stage.
His eyes were boring right into my own.
A shiver ran down my spine.
The friction Axel was creating in my groin was incredible.
I came.
Axel licked up the side of my face.
"I want you…"
It came out a husky whisper, muffled, but my eyes were locked on his crystal clear blue eyes.
The crowd was going crazy. The sick perverts.
He gave me a seductive grin and put down his glass.
"Ahhh… Lux…" I moaned in between wet kisses. He moved to my neck, ravishing it, leaving marks.
His name was Luxord. He was twenty-eight years old. He had the most seductive British accent in the history of the world. His breath smelt of alcohol but his eyes were so crystal clear. His beard tickled my skin as he kissed my body. He made me moan and shiver and scream.
He was mine and I as his.
For one night.
For one drink.
One sparkling martini.