Zexion can't hold his liquor. At all.
It doesn't take much for him to get drunk, which is why he avoids alchohol when he can.
But there are times when he decides to ignore this fact and have a few drinks. New Years Eve is one of those times.
When the clock strikes midnight, Demyx and Zexion aren't watching fireworks or the ball drop on tv.
Demyx is mentally beating himself up as he crushes his lips against Zexion's and allows his hands to travel accross soft, bare skin.
Zexion's kissing him back just as fiercely, fingers burried in the hair at the base of Demyx's neck. He groans and arches into Demyx's touch.
And Demyx inwardly curses himself for taking advantage of the situation.
But Zexion's lips taste like strawberry wine. And their soft and warm and willing. And his eyes are cloudy and full of longing.
And Demyx is only human.
Let him forget everything tonight and deal with the consequences later. Whatever they may be.