Prompt: pairing: larxene/axel/roxas. kink: heavy bondage and bloodplay.
Notes: Someday Pia will write a far better one than this short, weird thing.
"Like this?" came Roxas' voice, hesitant, and Larxene's laughter crackled through the charged air.
"He can take more," she said, and Axel squeezed his eyes shut against the blindfold and tried to stop the high-pitched whine building in his aching throat as two of Roxas' fingers pulled out of him, and three pushed back inside.
His shoulders were starting to ache from the bad angle, wrists strapped together behind his back, head forced back. Tacky with sweat.
Something slithered softly against his cheek—Larxene's hair?—and he shuddered. He could feel her grin, her breath ghosting softly against his cheekbone. "You heard me, Axel. You like it, don't you?"
No, thought Axel. He didn't. Axel liked having all the cards up his sleeve, Axel liked being the one with the knowing eyes and the threat in his smile. Except.
Except for at times like this, the secret times with Larxene and her leathers, when he was tied up and unable to move, unable to scheme, unable to think. Only option to just let go.
Roxas was moving his fingers experimentally, not reaching where Axel needed it most, and his body strained in torment; Roxas' inexperienced missing was just as bad as deliberate teasing.
"Now, now," said Larxene, and she gripped Axel's hip tight enough to bruise. That time a whine did escape, as Roxas' wriggling inside him sent a shiver of sparks down his spine, Larxene's fingers pressing rhythmically into the bruises until his cock was dripping against his stomach and his body was sheened in sweat.
There was a shuffling and pressing around him as someone moved. Long, slim fingers pressed into his mouth, he curled his tongue around them. Tasted like girl. Larxene must be enjoying this. "Good boy," she purred, sound going straight to his groin and fuck he wasn't gonna last.
Then the fingers inside him twisted in painful experimental failure, and he bit down on Larxene's fingers. She hissed poisonously, and then his face was fucking exploding with pain.
He gasped and panted with blood on his tongue, nerves tingling in shock, half expecting more pain, unable to move, unable to even see where it might come from. He could almost feel a heart hammering in his chest. Almost feel.
"I think," she said, and he could imagine the broken-glass glitter in her eye, "you need to be punished for that."
Then there was something sharp pressing into his chest, and fuck fuck fuck. Lines of firebrand peeling apart his skin, stars and static jumping in front of his eyes, blood rushing in ears so loud it drowned out everything.
The fingers pulled out and he choked on a moan. He wouldn't beg. Wouldn't say don't stop. The pad of Larxene's thumb was smearing the cut and his entire body was an ache, a ball of piercing throbbing ache in the darkness.
And then there was a little wet tongue on his balls, a soft nervous kiss on the skin of his stomach, and he jolted, the sounds coming from his mouth were just a little more broken, just a little more desperate.
"Fuck me," he managed, throat raw, and he imagined Roxas' curt little nod, his professional little movements as he shifted into place. Larxene giggled and sliced shallow strokes over his left pectoral.
/
Roxas slid in
\
Stretched, swollen, and his chest burned burned burned
l
a needy liquid sound from Roxas.
l
Staccato,
l
Axel fell apart.