The differences between them really were quite surprising. Xion had always just assumed that all boys would be soft, and smooth, all small, rough scrapes and barely protruding tummys. Because that's how Roxas was. Her first, her only, her everything. He was soft and deliciously boyish, and when she kissed his blushing neck she tasted the bitter tang of leftover soap and too much body spray.
But she was wrong. And in a sense, this whole situation was wrong, from the long, lean fingers playing across her pebbled nipple, to the worn down calluses on the palm of the hand resting on her butt. When she moaned raggedly into his shoulder, she only smelled his musky Cologne, and his skin was bittersweet with persperation. His stomach was rippled with defined muscles and his gleaming acidic eyes were nothing like Roxas' innocent ones. Axel was the kind of boy- no man, that Hayner would've insulted quietly, sneering, long after he'd already walked away, the kind of man Roxas would see, and immediatly shuffle her closer. He'd pull her shoulder into his armpit, curving his fingertips into her collarbone and rubbing his nose into the hair above her ear. Possessive in the jockboy way everyone expects.
He was unfamiliar, yet still achingly familiar, and dangerously so, all at once. He was a walking contridiction of everything she'd based her knowledge of sexuality on, and he was determined to turn her world upside down, inside out, and backwards. Her appetite became insatiable, their meetings more frequent, and always fasterharderfaster then before. Between Axel drowning her in hazardous sex, smoke filling her lungs and lining her throat with its thick ashes, and Roxas' shy stumbling advances, a breathe of fresh virgin air only stirring the chalky need coating her very being. Axel's determined bruises on her hips faded as hesitantly as the stickiness from Roxas' ice cream kisses.
She saw him, sometimes, as she giggled into her sweater sleeves, glancing coyly at the red tint lining the back of Roxas' neck. She'd been in the middle of convincing Roxas's to go buy her a pretzel dog from the cart in the park, when a flash of red hair and loose khaki shorts caught her eye. Axel had turned the corner, chuckling at something his friend said, a large bulky mechanic who called her Cupcake and ran his fingers of her bra straps when Axel wasn't looking, and pulling at one of his earrings. Roxas jogged back over to her, juggling pretzels and cups of lemonade, hesitating as Axel walked toward them. The man gave a sneering smirk in their direction, inclining his head toward Xigbar and muttering eyes still locked on Xion's strained Polo buttons. Xion could see Roxas' spine stiffening, the youth obviously torn and confused, pouty lips twisting into a scowl. She bumped her hipbone into Roxas' side, smiling and brushing his knuckles with her cheek. Roxas' turned back toward her, luckily missing the waggling finger-wave sent their way.
Axel's hand was still pressed into her lower belly, and her head was still thrown back and digging into the pillow, when he first asked about Roxas. She blinked and choked on her gulping breaths, hiccuping her way out of her post-orgasm lull. He snickered against her inner thigh, nosing the bit of stubble she'd missed when she waxed. Xion's not quite sure his to respond, what to say, but she supposes it doesn't matter anyway, because Axel doesn't wait for her excuses, sliding a hand under her ass and throwing her thigh onto his shoulder.
By the time she's humming into his hairline and playing with the mess oozing between her fingers, she forgets he's asked at all.
She remembers when Hayner tells Roxas about the skinny freak 'who had, like no fucking joke man, pierced nipples and like, fucking prison gang tattoos' hanging a bit to close to the school. Roxas wholeheartedly agrees to be there to kick his ass, and Xion's only thought is how they're tribal designs, and Axel got hem because his late uncle, his godfather, had them.
She's walking blindly with the group, thinking about the slight curve of Axel's dick, wondering if Roxas' curves as well. She's thinking of his thickness in her mouth, wondering if Roxas' would let her suck his cock in the middle of a gory horror flick, wondering if he'd be able to block out the terror and focus on her like Axel can.
Then, she can hear a catcall, looks up to see a familiar faded sign she can't quite place, proclaiming something about oil, transmissions, or brakes or whatever. She protests quickly, tugging Roxas' arm and insisting they all turn around. But Hayner's already at the open garage door, loudly complaining about filthy hippies who didn't finish school. The rest of the mindless herd chimes in response, Roxas' glancing at Xion's worried lip and watery eyes before stepping forward and grasping Hayner's shoulder. Axel catches his eye and smirked over to Xigbar about little boys who couldn't satisfy pretty ladies. Roxas' sneers about junkies and motherfuckers, and Xion knows the look of rage is really internal hurt, and she tells Roxas to stop. Xigbar tells the punk to get off his property, then rolls back under the car, blowing a kiss toward Xion first. Hayner, oblivious as always, doesn't catch it, but Roxas knows, she knows, and Axel knows, and Roxas knows they know.
And Roxas turns his head toward Hayner, but keeps his eyes on Axel as he says, "I'm done."
Hayner looks confused, but Roxas is dragging him away already, and no one notices Xion already crying because Axel is shaking his head, the game isn't fun anymore, not now that he knows, and King Soloman would've ripped her in half, but its too late, which is a shame.
Because she would've chosen in a heartbeat.