Horny as a Dandy – Mousse T. vs. The Dandy Warhols

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"Fuck. Me."

And Roxas did mean that literally.

A shame then that there were no pyromaniac redheads conveniently in the proximity to hear him say it. He had woken up in their broad bed with sweaty sheets wrapped around his hips, sunlight pouring in through the window, and a hunger for everything but food.

Axel had gone in early to work. Roxas wanted to kill the bastard.

He hadn't felt like this since he'd been a budding adolescent waking up with a raging hard-on each morning, this absolute swell of hormones with no release but his goddamn right hand. And he was a man now, damn it – simply jerking off when he was this fucking horny was not going to suffice, not when he knew what he could be getting.

He really did hate that asshole sometimes.

So – what to do? He smirked to himself, knowing that all he needed to do was whimper over the phone and Axel would be sprinting home as fast as his lanky legs could take him, doing his best to stem the nosebleed against his white sleeves. What the hell – the guy still had a few sick days up his sleeve.

The blond crawled out of bed, stretching like a cat after cream, sauntered to the kitchen, hips swaying, and found that the phone wasn't on its cradle. Okay. He could deal with this. Axel must have been walking and talking again. That was cool, this was fine, it just meant it was in an undisclosed location. No problem.

Twenty fruitless minutes of searching later, Roxas was snarling wordlessly, the apartment looking like a war-zone, cushions everywhere, dishes all over the kitchen floor, the counters strewn with cold food from the fridge, his stomping steps crashing through every room. He was definitely going to kill Axel for this. And his cell phone had been stolen just three days previously, which meant that, short of going and buying a new fucking cell phone, Roxas had no way of contacting the man by phone.

Growling and cursing under his breath, Roxas shifted to plan B, went to the computer, switched it on, connected to the internet. He quickly brought up his emails, composed a new one to Axel's work-address, not caring who the fuck read the message, "I WANT YOUR COCK, GET THE FUCK HOME" just as long as it got to him. He clicked send, and waited with writhing anticipation. There was no way Axel was ignoring this. Roxas was his Siren – he would brave tidal waves and train wrecks to get to the blond.

And the message didn't send. What the fuck, error message? He clicked send again, got it rejected, some kind of deeply offended rage curling up inside his chest. "Now you listen here, you son-of-a-bitch." He levelled a finger at the screen. "Stop fucking around." He tried a third time, finding it lacking in the luck he'd heard so much about. That was when he noticed that the net connection had severed. Oh, well fine. He tried to reconnect, only to find that it wouldn't go through. And that's when he remembered they hadn't paid the bill yet… they'd been overdue for two days, using it with tentative joy that the company hadn't cottoned on yet… except that now they had. When Roxas was horny. Life was growing increasingly bitchy and cruel.

Okay, so, screw it. He'd had enough of this. He went to the bedroom, threw on some clothes, grabbed his bag and threw the strap over his head, left the apartment with a slamming of the door. Stalking the entire way, sending out crawling clouds of black energy, the blond walked the eight and a half blocks to Axel's work, a stationery store, shoved open the door with a violent ringing of the little bell overhead, stomped to the counter and grated, voice like gravel, "Axel, please."

The girl blinked at him, smiled hesitantly. "Hiiiii, Roxas?"

"Axel. Now. Where is he?" He started glancing around, almost surprised that the redhead hadn't already tasted the pheromones and come lunging out to meet him.

"He's doing sales at the moment…" the brunette girl said, an edge of nervousness to her tone at the way the male was glaring and scowling darkly at the store.

"So?" Roxas demanded. "It's time for his break. Right now."

She shook her head, decidedly uneasy, explaining, "No, external sales – he's taken the company car and gone to sell supplies to – " She broke off into a yelp as Roxas' head crashed against the counter. He stayed there for a minute, rubbing his forehead back and forth along the glass surface, eyes passing sightlessly over the display of staplers and calculators. The girl reached out carefully, reluctantly patting the blond spikes, some kind of sympathy emerging in her heart. "Is everything okay? Is there an emergency?"

Roxas came up, hands rising beseechingly to the sky, groaning, "Yessss, there's a terrible emergency, a calamity, a catastrophe of epic, epic, epic proportions." His head returned to the counter with a meaty thwack, hands lacing over the back of his head in misery.

The brunette hesitated. "Well – I mean, if it's that bad, I could tell you which region he's working in? The stores that he's visiting?"

Roxas froze. He sensed a line approaching, and he wasn't entirely sure how much of a stalker he'd suddenly be if he crossed it. Mouth muffled by the glass, he said, "Gimme the list."

He went here, he went there, he did the entire fucking thing on foot, and every time he reached one of the stores on the list, Axel had already been. Stupid company car making him faster than Roxas' feet. Stupid Axel for not having his cell phone on him during work hours.

Stupid Roxas for forgetting the house key, and having to sit, dejected, against the door after having, at long last, realised what a fucking tool he was being and given up. His legs ached, his feet were trying to attempt murder-suicide to put each other out of their misery. He kept them firmly separated, for their own good. He checked his watch for the tenth time in an hour, head thumping back against the door, moaning, "Axel, where are yooou?"

"Roxas?!"

He jerked, scrambled to his feet, watched wide-eyed as the redhead came galloping down the hallway, dishevelled and sweaty. He screeched to a halt, grabbed the blond, hands instantly moving all over him, eyebrows together with fear as he demanded, "What's wrong? Olette told me there was an emergency, you came looking for me! What is it? What's happened?"

He paused at the expression on the blond's face, a second before he was attacked, slamming into the opposite wall as Roxas' legs wrapped around his waist, lips pressed heatedly together, hips grinding, teeth coming out and sharply nipping and biting. Poor Axel didn't know what hit him, used all his strength to simply keep standing.

Roxas' voice belonged to another being, one from deep, dark pits, as he said, "Get in the house. No~ow, Axel."

The redhead gulped. "Are you – telling me – that I ran all the way home from work… that I thought you were dying or something… when in actual fact you're just… horny?"

"There's no 'just' about it." Roxas sank his teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Axel swooned.
"…Okay, then. I can – I can deal with that."

The disappeared indoors, and neither emerged for three days, except to pay the internet bill at Roxas' insistence.