Chapter: 034 – Trials and Pleasures.
Location: The Mountain Where The Lights Touch the Earth
Characters: Vexen, Larxene, Zexion, Axel, Marluxia, Lexaeus.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17. Violency stuff and gayporn galore. Weee!
Summary: Restless boredom is slowly gnawing at both individual minds and group companionship. There are a number of different ways to deal, though, some more inventive than others.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. KH can be difficult sometimes, you know how it is.

Chapter 034 : TMWtLTtE – Trials And Pleasures. (XXX)

It was yet another perfectly fine day. There had been so much fish for breakfast no-one had been able to finish their share, the weather was gorgeous, and the six Nobodies were slowly going insane with boredom.

Too much time to think could be dangerous, Vexen concluded. While running from one disaster or another, survival instinct took over and left little time for deeper rational thought – he'd make a note of how basic instincts still seemed to work just fine in Nobodies faced with extreme situations if he'd had a notebook on him; make that a mental note to get a proper notebook at next stop in civilization instead. But with peace came boredom, and with boredom came focused, analysing conscious thought.
And such thoughts were far from pleasant.

Almost one and a half months had passed since the fall of Oblivion, if his counting was correct – make that a notebook with a proper calendar – and in all that time they hadn't really accomplished anything.

Granted, they were still alive, which probably counted for something, but the basic premise remained unchanged; they were blindly on the run. Six creatures by default responding poorly to instability and change, having to not only briefly pass through a wide variety of worlds, but now constantly and actively adjusting enough to blend in.
Being on the run, having to often change and adjust - not to mention the odd sensations of primal fear and survival-drive curiously blazing through even heartless indifference – it all boiled down to a quiet, constant stress fraying at the edges of their beings.

And as though that was not enough, he was half beginning to suspect that not only primal instincts such as fear were affected by the roles they were often forced to play out, but hypothetically a wider range of constructed emotions-…

A shrill, heartbreaking scream echoed through the campsite, jerking him efficiently from his thoughts, and along with the other lounging Nobodies he leapt to his feet, tense.
What met his eyes was neither telltale Organization-portals nor fuzzy, tusked beasts, however, but Larxene sporting her very best actress pose. One dainty hand was hard pressed against her empty chest and the other pointing a quivering finger at the former Number Six, who sat crouched over his open book, looking as bewildered and shaken by the sudden outburst as the rest of them.

Waiting until she was certain she had her audience's full attention, Larxene drew a shaking, almost sobbing breath.
" Betrayal!" she whimpered, moving her hand from her nonexistent heart to cover her tearing eyes. " Betrayal and backstabbing! He proposed to attack me!"

One had to hand it to the girl; she really was an amazing actress, playing the frightened, heartbroken little girl to perfection. To his left Axel was grinning openly at the show and further away Marluxia had raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

" What the hell are you talking about," Zexion snarled, glaring at her fingertip as though it could go off at any time.

She looked up and there was the slightest cruel tint to her sweet expression as she lowered her accusing finger to the young man's lap – a gesture that didn't seem to comfort him at all.

" Lexaeus said it only a few days ago," she crooned triumphantly. " We do not draw weapons on our fellow companions, under any circumstances. And that, Zexion dearest, is your weapon, isn't it?"
" I've seen him in the bath. It's not very impressive," Axel mused.
" I do believe she is referring to his book," Vexen patiently interjected. " Which is indeed Zexion's weapon of choice. She actually has a point."

Zexion glared at the crowd.
" This is absurd. Completely absurd. I only conjured it to read!"
Larxene waved a reproaching finger.
" Any circumstances, love. Lexaeus was very definite. In fact, he broke my wrist for emphasis, remember? Lex, would you please break Zexion's wrist for me?"

Interesting, Vexen idly mused as he looked from Larxene's vengeful little form to the suddenly frowning earth-elemental.

Zexion stood, balling his fists, his Lexicon dissolving into darkness.
" Don't be ridiculous, you little witch," he hissed, goaded into rare anger as his partner was dragged into the conflict. " Don't think you can out-scheme me. Or do you want to end up on dish-duty, too?"

Larxene's eyes flashed with mirth and she put her fingers to her lips with a girlish little giggle.
" Why, Zexion, that sounded an awful lot like Marluxia-talk! You don't think you're the one pulling all our strings, do you? Or are you and dear Lex making up rules that only apply to the rest of us now?"

Zexion looked furious, but several of the onlookers had very thoughtful faces at this point and he managed to collect himself enough to regain his smooth composure.

" Very well," he finally conceded, " You have made your point known and it will be taken into due consideration. Perhaps we should have a more nuanced discussion about any rules applied to the group."

" Mm-hm," she smiled. " And now we get to break your arm."
" There will be no breaking of arms," Lexaeus rumbled as he moved to stand behind Zexion, giving the girl a warning look.
" Well, actually…" Axel said, rubbing his chin between thumb and forefinger.
" Larxene is right," Marluxia said, a dead serious undertone to his rich voice. " We can not have one set of rules for you two and another for the rest of us."
" After all, Zexion," Larxene chirped, " We all voted to have potions available at all times, so you should be able to heal right back up. Only a matter of principle, you see?"

Second note, Vexen thought to himself, never seriously antagonize Larxene if it can at all be avoided.
The horrible girl could be much too clever when she put her mind to it, and was obviously capable of carrying a grudge like the best of them.

Zexion was actually beginning to look a shade pale.
" Look, listen, we can't go around fighting within the group. We wouldn't last five minutes!"
" Do you remember him saying that when Lexaeus hurt Larxene?" Axel innocently asked Marluxia. The pink-haired man was staring at the earth elemental with a strange intensity to his eyes.
" No, no I do not, " he said. " In fact I've known Lexaeus to act the judge before. Since he is so eager to maintain justice and discipline within the group, I'm sure he would be most willing to extract proper punishment in this case as well."

There's a trick to it, Vexen recognized as Zexion began to sputter and protest. We all hate each other, and so as soon as any one individual is singled out, it's horrifyingly easy to band everyone else together against them. Some cases more deserving than others, of course.

" You are not in majority!" Zexion was howling at Larxene, then jumped as a grinning Axel carefully stepped on a fallen twig with a sharp, cracking sound. Lexaeus put a calming hand on his shoulder but he furiously shrugged it off.

" Three and a half to two," she smiled. " Work it out yourself, math-boy."

The spoken numbers seemed to finally make them notice his silence, and suddenly five pairs of eyes were turned to him for confirmation. He shrugged slightly to buy time.

" Vexen," Zexion hissed. " You can't possibly side with them!"

Oh, it was tempting, so very tempting. Zexion had always, always sported that intolerable smug attitude, even long ago when he was still Ienzo, precious young prodigy, Master Ansem's little wonder-child who'd soon made a habit out of loudly and condescendingly pointing out his elders' every little mistake and miscalculation.
A neatly broken wrist seemed like a perfect, albeit belated way of putting him back in his place.

" I don't know," he drawled, thoughtfully crossing his arms, very much enjoying his sudden position of power. " The Neophytes have a point. If the group is to be consequent in its response to such transgressions, some sort of punishment would be in proper order."

Lexaeus gave him a downright threatening glare - well, who are you to judge me, where were you when I burned? – and Larxene laughed out loud.
" Why, dearest 'brother', I knew I could count on you to defend my honour!" she grinned. The little bitch.

Axel happily cracked his knuckles.
" So who gets to do the breaking?"

Zexion's eyes narrowed, and suddenly he looked nothing like the young boy he might resemble, but the grown and too-clever by half man he actually was.
" Vexen," he growled. " You had better think very carefully about whose side you are on. I do know a thing or two about you, after all, that I am quite certain you wouldn't want me to let slip."

He scoffed and narrowed his own eyes in turn.
" Is that so? I happen to know a thing or two about you as well, Zexion. Don't make a habit of trying to threaten me. I owe you only the same loyalty you have shown me – that is to say, none."

The others followed the exchange, wide-eyed and delighted with the tension between the once so seemingly united Elders.

" Yeah?" Axel made an encouraging gesture. " So how goes the vote, Vex? Breaky or no breaky?"

Suddenly disgusted with their scavenger-like eagerness he sniffed and gestured vaguely.

" Probably punishment well deserved, but we can't keep wasting potions on pointless internal disputes, or we'll be out when we really need them."
He swept his gaze over the pettily excited group and suddenly felt very old, the only sensible grown man in a crowd of yelling, hair-pulling little boys and girls.

" Honestly. You all bicker like children, sometimes," he sighed.

And he turned and left.

In the end there had been no breaking of wrists, much to Axel's disappointment.
The ruffle-haired little creep had managed to push the point that Vexen's vague answer should be interpreted as a vote to his and Lexaeus' favour, and no-one had really felt like discussing the matter further once mountain-man started flexing his muscles and cracking his knuckles.

Democracy could be a beautiful thing, though. Even Vexen had proven a possible ally; along with Larxene he might be persuaded to help vote through a few nice changes around the place.
Like, dunno, having Zexion down there with Marluxia on dish-duty and demanding Lexaeus be put on a leash or something.

Making friends, that was what it was all about. Favours and favours in return. And dang if he and Vexen weren't good friends already! It probably wouldn't take many burns at all to get the nice old man to place the proper votes.
Lovely thing, friendship.

Right now, however, he was on another mission. As the group broke up after the morning's little show, someone had been in such a hurry that all the dirty dishes had been left behind.
He would know; he'd carefully left some juicy scraps smeared across his plate and placed it near the ants' nest he'd found the day before to make the result a suitable challenge for someone like a master Assassin.
Poor Marluxia must have had a lot on his mind to forget about his chores like that, though, and so Axel had taken it upon himself to go remind the preoccupied man.
Just another helpful gesture of friendship.

Damn if he wasn't the very friendliest guy in the group!

Burying his hands in his pockets and whistling a little horribly out-of-tune melody Axel walked on through the forest.

Where he sat perched on the soft moss crowning a huge boulder under the dusky canopy, Marluxia would have to admit to himself that he was bitter.

Zexion had escaped just punishment yet again, the little worm, and there hadn't even been a bathing naked Vexen in the lily pond to make the day better.
And those were just this morning's misadventures.

What was worse, quite a bit worse, was the humiliation of being forced to scrub the others' plates and mugs clean several times a day, still attracting a faithful jeering audience every time. His hands looked horrible by now; the red stiffness would never quite fade from his joints and knuckles, and the skin and nails had begun cracking from so often being exposed to the freezing water.

He should not have to suffer this.

He should leave, strike back, beat each and every one of them into submission rather than having to suffer this, and yet…
He bit his lower lip and frowned.

And yet he hadn't. Yet he wouldn't.

As divided as the group might be, both his own trial and this morning's incident had proven that the others were capable of standing united when necessary. And while he might be able to take several of them out in a straightforward fight, five to one might be just a bit too much even for him to handle.

Leaving, then. He certainly didn't need the others to survive. He'd been out in the worlds on his own before, he was a warrior, a survivor, would make it just fine without the burden of the others weighing him down.
At least up until the point where he ran into one or more of their mutual enemies.
Damn it all.

Because the Keybearer was his match and superior in battle, as he had so painfully found out in the past. And the Organization… Better not even think of the Organization, really.
And there were others; Riku, the mouse-king, the Keybearer's beastly companions, that fallen king the Elders were all so very afraid of…
If a Nobody was to run into those enemies on his own, he probably would wish he hadn't been quite so eager to leave the relative protection of the group, after all.
Accursed dishes aside.

That, and that leaving the group now also meant leaving-…

" Hey! There you are, pink-head! I've been looking for you."

He felt a shudder of actual revulsion trickle down his spine as the loud voice cut through his contemplation, and reluctantly looked down at the black-and-red figure grinning up at him from the mossy forest floor.

So much for relishing in the tranquillity of the forest for a moment of blissful respite. It wasn't that he was hiding in any way, certainly not, but lately he had developed a steadily increasing desire for solitude and peace, far away from the others. Them and their filthy dishes.
Curse them.

He shot Axel a cool, aloof glare down his nose, hoping against better judgment the idiot would take the hint and go away. As expected it had no effect whatsoever.

" See, I know you probably have a lot on your mind and all; lots of slime and rot in there, right? So I figured, hey, it's not too strange the poor guy's forgotten it's his turn to do the dishes. Even though, you know, it's always your turn to do the dishes. I just figured I'd be a buddy and remind you. Heh heh."

Maybe if he aimed it right he could kick a few smaller rocks down on Axel's head? Worth a try. They rolled off to the side, however, completely missing their intended target.

" Go away, Axel," he spat out, every syllable clear and cold. Not even the voice of authority had any effect on the thug, however.

" Sure. Yeah. Any time at all. Only it's almost time for lunch and my plate is a mess, you wouldn't believe how icky it is. Need to get it clean before I can use it again. So if you'd be so kind?"

He actually felt his eye twitch slightly.
That a dog like Axel was in any position whatsoever to order him about, smirking, mocking him…

Axel suddenly yelped and jumped, but too late; the mosses, stalks and vines of the forest floor were moving under his feet, writhing like serpents in a snake pit, and he almost lost his balance, just barely saving himself onto a smaller boulder.

When he looked up again there was a savage madness to his grin, a shine to his eyes that hadn't been there before, and he laughed quietly.
" Think so?"

Suddenly the moss Marluxia sat on felt very hot indeed; the only warning he got to fling himself away from the rock before his perch exploded into flame.

He landed soundlessly, gracefully as a cat, and spun to face the bastard.

" Ah, ah!" Axel chanted and sent him skipping backwards with fire bursting from every footstep as he raised his hands to summon his scythe. " No drawing weapons, or Lexaeus will break your fingers off!"

And he laughed again. With a snarl Marluxia reached out to a convenient and above all thorny raspberry vine by Axel's perch, ensnaring him and finally tugging him off balance and into the writhing mass of plants.

Burning them away one by one the fool still had the audacity to laugh.
" Doesn't change a thing, pal. You'll still have to do the dishes, you know."

" Maybe there'll be one less set to worry about after today," he responded between clenched teeth. Oh, he'd wanted to do this for a long, long time.

" But for the love of-..! I swear, you're all worse than unruly children!"

A third, all too familiar voice cut through the smoky clearing.
Distracted for a moment he failed to pay proper attention to his opponent and suddenly found his feet virtually on fire; howling, he quite gracelessly hopped several steps back to escape the flames licking at his boots.

" Axel!" Vexen's voice cracked like iced nails down a very screechy blackboard. " Stop it this instant! And you, too, Marluxia! By all powers of Darkness, I've dissected rabid guinea pigs better behaved than you people."

Axel managed to disentangle himself from the scorched vegetation and got to his feet, vainly trying to brush soot and sticky sap off his robes.

" He started it," he whined in a sing-song voice no doubt intended to further infuriate the scientist. For once Vexen didn't seem interested in petty argumentation, however.
" And I stopped it," he said. " Now get out of here. Go gather firewood if you're so eager to find things to burn. Now."

Axel made a face, but seemed to accept himself temporarily outnumbered.
" Fine, fine. But hey, Marluxia, you think you can wash my coat when you're taking on those dishes? You got it all dirty."

He couldn't hold back a snarl and clenched his hands hard enough to feel his nails bite into soft flesh. Oh, Axel would pay and pay and pay for these insults…

" And what are you looking at!" he yelled at Vexen as the redhead shuffled out of sight. The response surprised him, though; rather than acting offended Vexen only raised his eyebrows slightly – and then he laughed. A cruel but genuinely amused laugh, and somehow that was the worst insult of all.

" Poor Marluxia," Vexen said, still smiling coolly. " It isn't so much fun being on the receiving end, is it?"

" What do you mean," he growled, his hands still clenched hard enough to hurt.
Rather than turning away Vexen stepped closer, which was all wrong, and crossed his arms in that infuriatingly superior manner of his.

" Humiliated. Toyed with. Driven to fury and still not taken seriously. Not even when you try to strike back. And you want to leave, want it bad enough that you can taste it, and yet you just can't…"

He realized he was staring and quickly turned his surprised look to a frown.

" I don't know what you're talking about."

And suddenly Vexen had come even closer, close enough to invade his personal space, and he could feel the man's presence, his scent, breathe him…

" No..?" Vexen asked, and those green eyes caught and held his.
Suddenly lust was screaming through him, desire to reach out and touch, taste, jerk that tempting body closer. His entire being was humming with it, clashing painfully with his anger and humiliation, leaving him bewildered, yearning, ravenous, yet frozen in place.

" That," Vexen whispered, so close his moving lips almost, almost grazed his own, "is what I'm talking about."

And then he stepped back, gave his cheek a patronizing little pat.

" Think about it. You're a clever boy. I'm sure you'll work it out."

And with a sweep of his billowing robes he turned to leave.

" Wait!"

He wasn't even aware he had called out until Vexen halted and shot him a blank look over his shoulder. Finally anger overrode his confusion and humiliation, broke the paralysis and gave him back some clarity of mind.

" You're leaving? Just like that?"

Vexen shrugged haughtily.

" Isn't that what you wanted?"
" No!"

Granted, it was what he'd wanted, but that was several crucial seconds ago, before he'd felt that tantalizing presence, breathed the scent of snow.
Brushing confusion and weakness aside with anger and self-assurance he stomped across the scorched mosses towards the taller man, refusing to be goaded along only to be cast aside.

" Don't think you can toy with me, Vexen," he hissed, reaching out to grab a sweeping sleeve, to claim ownership, make sure the flighty creature wouldn't sweep away out of reach again.

Vexen's eyes were unreadable.

" Am I toying with you, Marluxia? It must all be in your mind. I was merely making a few observations based on your irrational behaviour."

He bared his teeth, frustrated. Oh, Vexen wanted this as much as he did, of that he was sure, but the man had to make it so difficult, complicating everything beyond all reason.
Tired of games he yanked on the sleeve in his grasp, only to let it go with a yelp as ice crystals formed on his already frostbitten fingers.

" Still not getting it," Vexen observed, and he wanted to scream with fury and frustration, forcibly resisting the urge to suck on his smarting fingers.
" What are you playing at!" he almost screamed. " What do you want from me, damn you!"

The scientist sighed, absently reaching out to trace an embroidered hem along the collar of his silky oriental robes.

" A recognition of ironically reversed positions you are obviously too thick to make. I suppose I overestimated your intellect. Whatever poor excuse for one you possess."

He stared.

" You're joking. You are actually analysing me like some contrived experiment, you twisted bastard."

" Oh, but Marluxia, I always have. You've simply become a more interesting specimen exposed to all the new variables out here."

A pause, the ghostlike touch of that long-fingered hand suddenly removed from his chest. He ached for it to return.

" Would you rather I stopped analysing you, Marluxia..?"

He hated how the sound of his name from those cold lips could have such a devastating effect on him; it shouldn't, really shouldn't, that had never been part of the plan, and yet it sent shivers up and down his spine every time it washed over him.

Once again pride and desire crashed together, fighting for supremacy.

Oh, he understood all too well what Vexen was talking about; the irony certainly wasn't lost on him, but now was not the time for such thoughts, not at all.
Pride lost, miserably, and that, too was ironic. Apparently pride always did, no matter whose.

" No," he finally conceded, gracefully reaching out to guide Vexen's gloved hand back to his chest.

Poor, poor Marluxia, losing his lordly position and composure bit by painful bit, Vexen mused as his tingling hand was pressed once again to the other's firm body.

Humiliated, brought down, driven to furious frustrated anger and yet forced by circumstances beyond his control to stay put, perform his assigned chores and try not to let his aggravation shine through before his tormentors…

How could he, Vexen, do anything but laugh? The irony was just perfect, much too perfect.

Perfect like the shape and taste of velvet lips against his own, like silken hair scented with roses, like the annoying way in which the shapes of their struggling bodies fitted so very well together.

Marluxia certainly must be desperate for carnal company since his bitch abandoned him, the way it took almost nothing at all for even him to arouse the usually so composed man. Desperate indeed.

Not that he minded much.

It wasn't long before sweeping robes of silk and leather fell away, and he reluctantly had to admit Marluxia's body was far more attractive than any man had any right to be. The bastard was an addiction, and by now he was not quite sure he would have wanted to quit him even had he been able to.

He captured a chapped, reddened hand between his own black gloves, turned and admired it before bringing it to his lips.
" You are quite charming damaged, Marluxia" he pointed out. " It becomes you."
Marluxia snarled and clenched his captured hand in anger, but didn't pull away.
" Too much talking, Vexen. Always too much talking with you. Haven't you learned what your lips are for yet?"
He laughed quietly at the delightful bitterness beneath the surface – perhaps the piece of filth had been onto something after all; playing with a bitter and disgraced quarry wasentertaining – but relented and let himself be pulled closer for another vicious kiss.

There were hands pulling at his hair, ripping off his gloves, burning smooth skin under his hands, those devilish just slightly too rough teeth pulling at his ear and then a most enticing moan as his freed fingers slid lower, past obscuring textiles, brushing against the man's throbbing arousal.

" Damn it, Vexen," Marluxia gasped, clinging to him, his expression an odd mix of anger and desperation. " Don't do that. I want more than your hands this time."
He raised his eyebrows, amused despite himself.
" But poor dearest Marluxia, whatever has happened to your fabled self-discipline?"
Teeth bit down on his ear hard and he snarled and pulled away; that one had almost drawn blood. Ripping the man's pants open seemed like proper retribution, along with more of those teasing touches, alternating between hot and bitter cold.

" Damn you," Marluxia repeated and pushed him back, clawing at his clothes in return.

Desperate indeed – but all higher powers be damned, it was sweet and glorious, those firm hands all over him, the warmth of the body pressed hard against his own and how could he ever have loathed the sensation of that velvet-smooth skin rubbing against his?

" Turn around, " Marluxia impatiently breathed into his ear. " I need you, now."

Right. Because Marluxia was a promiscuous arrogant bastard demanding everything be done his way. That was it.

He stepped back, capturing the wrists of those roving hands in a steady grip and gave the younger man his most unimpressed glare.

" And what in all worlds makes you just assume I would bend over for you?"

The blank look on the Assassin's face would almost have been humorous in its confounded naivety, the utter shock at being contradicted and denied. Then the moment was gone and fury lit up the blue eyes, rosy lips drawn back to bare teeth. Marluxia jerked his hands free and snarled.

" I warned you, Vexen, don't try to toy with me. One way or another, you will finish what you started."

He scoffed contemptuously.

" I never said I wouldn't. But you've been spending too much time with your dirty whore if a convenient hole is all you are looking for in a bed-mate."

Marluxia was staring at him again, but this time his after all existent intellect actually seemed to make the connection without further clues, and he blinked.

" What, you expect me to..?"

" Not interested? Then I have no more time to waste on you."

Fastidiously he began pulling his clothes back in place, admittedly rather hoping Marluxia would stop him. His pants had not been so constricting ten minutes ago.

Marluxia was still staring at him, frozen in confusion, anger and indecision. Then he made a sharp, frustrated gesture.

" Oh, damn you!" he yelled, closing the distance between them again, forcing Vexen's hands away from the buttons he had been working on. " Why do you have to make everything so difficult!?"

And he would have happily explained that at quite some length had not his mouth been ravenously invaded, his clothes torn away again, his own hands moving on their own accord to slide through pink hair, pulling the intolerable Assassin closer still.

Entangled they fell together, rolling onto the soft moss, the forest floor beneath them suddenly and quite conveniently covering over with thick drifts of rose-petals, the sickly sweet scent overpowering.
Tacky, yet admittedly more comfortable than pine needles.

" Only this once," Marluxia finally panted as they broke apart, lying flat on his back, strong hands tugging on Vexen's hair to pull him down. " Next time it's my turn."

He snorted even as he burrowed his face into the soft, feathery hair, his hands impatiently folding away any last trace of cloth between them.

" What makes you think there will be a next time?"

Growling the Assassin pressed up against him as Vexen slid inside with movements kept painstakingly slow not to hurt either of them too much due to lack of proper lubrication.

" What makes you possibly believe there won't be?" Marluxia murmured dangerously, and the glow in his eyes left no doubt whatsoever that he intended to claim his hard-won prize sooner rather than later.

And then with a final push he was fully sheathed and Marluxia threw his head back with the oddest whimpering sound, desperately drawing him close and squeezing his body between strong legs hard enough to hurt.
Rough hands slid across his back, worn-down nails still sharp enough to leave burning red welts behind and he hissed, biting down on a tempting lip in return.

It had been quite a while since he had known Marluxia like this; his warmth, the firmness of his arching body below, smooth velvet inside and out, and he closed his eyes and focused on breathing, closer to the edge than he had thought.

He tried to check his movements, keeping his thrusts shallow and slow, but Marluxia gave a beastly growl, seemingly as frustrated as himself, and soon he threw care to the wind and slammed into the perfect body writhing beneath him deep and hard, resulting embarrassing abrasions be damned.

Despite his best efforts, Marluxia made the most interesting little sounds when he was on the receiving end; just watching his deep blue eyes flutter shut and his lips unconsciously part slightly just begging for brutal, asphyxiating kisses was enough to drive anyone mad with primitive lust.

Then strong arms reached out for him, holding him so close that for a single moment they moved as one being, already fraying boundaries of self blurred and unimportant, and then there was only blazing perfection, flashing by like lightning, impossible to catch, impossible to hold down or analyse.

One single moment of perfection, over all too soon.

He muffled his outcry against Marluxia's shoulder, shuddering, vaguely aware that any intimate abrasions would be matched with neat bruises where the Assassin's shaking fingers had dug hard into his hips and back; knew he had left his fair share on the other's pale skin as well.
Perfection was never for free, bruises a small price to pay.

It was those moments, he thought tiredly as he struggled to catch his breath, again wishing for a proper notebook, those inexplicable moments of brilliance, of almost-being that assured him some part of their innermost beings still existed, that there was still something there beyond just an empty shell living on by force of habit.

He hadn't believed that before Marluxia.
Perhaps the idiot was good for something, after all.

Odd.

He was sweaty, sticky and could barely breathe because of the soft blond hair fanning across his face; he had been humiliated across the entire scale of shame more times than he could even count during the past half hour, and yet, right now, he actually felt rather good.

Very good, in fact.

Breathing really was getting difficult, but he kept still, knowing that if he moved then Vexen would move, and the scientist's solid form draped across him was oddly comfortable, especially considering all the sharp bony angles on the man.

After a few more moments of pleasant afterglow Vexen muttered something unintelligible and rolled off him.

" What?" he asked, mostly to keep the other still long enough to admire how he was virtually glowing, so wonderfully delicately pale against the deep crimson and dark green of the rose petals and moss they rested on.

" I said, this is all horribly impractical."
Already the man was propped on one elbow, looking around for his clothes.

Marluxia gave a soft amused bark of laughter.

" Vexen, my very dearest pessimist, being on the run for our lives is impractical. Having betrayed the Organization each in our own ways is impractical. One could argue that releasing Darkness upon the worlds and losing our hearts was very impractical. On that grand scale of impracticality, a little of this-" a sweeping gesture, "- doesn't even merit counting."

Green eyes locked onto his for a few silent seconds, then the man shrugged.

" Perhaps a valid point. That doesn't mean I intend to make it a habit. You are still a treacherous, filthy piece of trash with so much making up to do a lifetime wouldn't be enough. Now, where did you throw my coat?"

If times like these is what he refers to as 'making up', Marluxia concluded while watching the man stalk around the glade, retrieving his articles of clothing from the surrounding vegetation, I wouldn't much mind spending a lifetime doing it.

Axel sat cross-legged and poked at his magnificently ant-infested plate with a long stick.
Damn, Vexen must have been angry.
The brusque telling-off he had received had been bad enough, but it had been over half an hour, and there was still no trace of Marluxia.

Maybe Vexen'd killed him or something. Crazy old man.

Well, whatever he'd done to Marluxia it was certainly well deserved. Served the fruity bastard damned right.

It'd just be a damned shame if they had to go back to doing their own dishes.
Stupid ants.