My Christmas Special has finally been completed, so Merry Christmas! Feliz Navidad! ^^
I should have known. All the signs were there: lack of interest, he was always out later and later, he stopped putting his hands down my pants as often as he used to- granted, he didn't stop completely, and the sex…well, it just wasn't the same fiery passionate love-making that it used to be. I should have figured it out before now. I'm supposed to be smart, aren't I? I should have figured it out and left before I had the chance to see the extremity of it. I should have…done something besides just stand there and watch as my entire world came crashing down around me.
"I'm home!" I yelled through our apartment- his apartment since nothing I own was never shown- as I shrugged through the front door, shopping bags in hand. No one replied back to me. My eyebrow raised slightly beneath my slate colored locks. It was odd. His car was parked downstairs in the garage, and he always answered me when he was home. I couldn't help but think that maybe he hadn't heard me. Maybe he was just in the shower or listening to music in the back of the apartment. It's not like that couldn't happen, so I shrugged it off. So what if he didn't say anything back to me? It wasn't the end of the world. No, that didn't happen until later when I walked into the airy little kitchen to get rid of my shopping bags that I heard it.
Heard the long deep moan.
A moan that didn't belong to my lover.
A moan that belonged to someone else entirely.
I gulped, balling my hands into tight fists by my side as my bags fell to the floor. Whoever it was that made that noise was in his apartment, our shared apartment, with my lover. My mind was whirling as I tiptoed down the mint hall with the walls that I helped paint and slipped in through the slightly cracked door at the end of the hall. And, what I saw…I didn't know what to do.
So, I just stood there and watched.
Watched him fuck some other boy where he had fucked me so many times before. He had this person bent over the edge of the bed, our bed, head thrown back in ecstasy. It was just like it was with me. Exactly the same. Except, he wasn't me. It wasn't his hands circling my thighs, spreading my legs just a bit wider. It wasn't his lips dancing across my spine, turning my skin a feverish pink. It wasn't his cock sliding inside of my ass, pounding me so hard that I wouldn't be able to walk properly for the next few days. No. it was his hands, his lips, his cock on someone else. Some pink haired, tan, muscular man. Someone who wasn't- isn't me.
And, it hurt. It hurt because it wasn't me. It was someone I knew, someone who I considered to be my friend. It was Marluxia Stewart, the flower shop owner down the street. I would always stop by on my way to work to say hello and here he was fucking my lover on our three-year anniversary. How could he? How could he when he knows just how much I love this man? How could he? No. How could he, the man I loved- who I thought loved me- do this? How could he have fucked me last night, yet fuck him in the exact same way today?
Even as my mind raced, I didn't move a muscle; I just stood in the doorway and watched. Watched as the reached the peaks, whimpering and moaning like dogs in heat, as they murmured, "I love you's" to one another, as they kissed oh so sweetly- the same way we kiss. I didn't hit him. I didn't cry. I could barely even breathe. And, with me just standing there in the doorway, shaking with shocked eyes…
He saw me.
He saw me in all my lost glory, just standing there and watching as they nakedly laid together on his bed- our bed, my slate locks hanging limply, my fists clenched at my side.
"Zexion!" He tried desperately to cover himself with a blanket- like I haven't seen him naked thousands of times before, his watery green eyes panicked as I just stood there in my shocked state. At first, I don't think he knew what to say. We just stood there and stared at one another, like we were in a trance, not really seeing one another.
Of course, those types of things can't last forever.
"I can explain! Listen, baby, I-" And, when he touched me is when I'd had enough.
"Don't ever touch me again!" I screamed, pulling away from him and his icy touch. He pulled away from me and stood completely still as my breath became just a bit more ragged, as my eyes began to water. No. he would never touch me again with those icy hands. He would never hold me like he loved me again, like I was his one and only; because I know now that I'm not. I'm not his anything. And, I'll never be anything to him again. I won't allow it.
"Oh, Zexion…oh god, you weren't supposed to-"
"To what? To find out? Yeah, I already figured that!" He winced as my voice became just a bit more hysterical, as I hugged myself tightly, cutting myself off from him.
"I can…Zexion, baby, you know how much I love you…"
I laughed. I honestly laughed. I just couldn't help it. I laughed like I had gone insane, choking through my tears that had just began to fall. All I could do was shake my head. "No you don't- hic- if you did- hic- you wouldn't have done this to me."
He didn't' have anything to say to that. He just watched me as I packed up my few belongings into two suitcases and left, Marluxia smirking as he lay naked across the edge of the bed- my edge of the bed.
And, my lover…I didn't even give him a good-bye.
After I left, I spent over an hour sobbing in my car before I could see straight enough to drive away and find a hotel to stay in. I had- have nothing. I only graduated high school less than six months ago and college…it hadn't even crossed my mind. Why would it? He's been promising me since I was fifteen that he'd take care of me, that I didn't have to worry about anything. And, now, now I have to worry, because I have nothing, am nothing, I'm going nowhere. I have less than a thousand dollars to my name and nowhere to go. My parents disowned me that day I moved out. I have no friends- Marluxia obviously wasn't one. I'm just another eighteen-year-old kid that's been fooled into believing that they were worth something.
What a fool I've been. It's never crossed my mind that he would get tired of me, not since that day he told me he loved me, not since that day that he took me in his office.
"Are you scared?" All I could do was nod, my bottom lip slowly being worried in between my teeth. I turned away from him as tears began to roll down my cheeks. If I were being honest with myself, I would have realized that I hadn't wanted to do it at all. I hadn't wanted to lay across his desk with his hands touching me in all those places my parent used to tell me were for someone special. I should have realized. "Come on, Zexion. Trust me; I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you."
And, I believed him!
I let him lay me across his desk after he'd shed every bit of my clothing, science tests thrown onto the floor, littering the freshly swept tiled floor. I let him spread my legs, saying stupid little things like "look how cute" and "I'll never leave you". I let him make me scream, because prep is only for those who can't take the pain, as he told me back then. I let him fuck my underdeveloped, fifteen year old body until I lost every bit of dignity I was able to retain during my first year of high school. Until I had become one with oblivion.
He told me he loved me.
When he finished with me that day, he told me he loved me. And, I suppose he did what any respectable, pedophiliac teacher would do. He cleaned me up and helped me dress before sending me on my way to my next class with an excuse note.
I was such an idiot! I let him take away my innocence, the only thing that my parents hadn't already taken away from me. How could I let him do such a thing to me? I didn't want to do it. I never really did back then; I just took my clothes off as a way to keep him around longer, because I wanted him to see me as special. Ha…I guess that makes me some type of whore, doesn't it? Some stupid, fucking whore.
Where did it get me?
In the end, where did all of my efforts get me?
I did everything for him. I allowed myself to be humiliated by him again and again. I let him take out his frustrations on me. I let him play me like some type of fool. I let him dress me up to his wishes and take away my future, my high school life. I tried to be the best I could for him and…because of that, I gave up everything. And, what did I get in return? A thirty-two year old cheater. A thirty-two year old that's been fucking me since he was twenty-nine. A wasted three years and a bottle of cheap beer served to me in some shady, gay bar on the strip on fucking Christmas Eve. I'm all alone with these people trying to grope my ass.
Oh, how far I've fallen.
I keep telling myself that I'm going to leave soon, that I'll take a cab back to the hotel, that I'll stop wasting what little bit of money I do have on cheap beer, because I know I don't need it. In this state, I can't even remember the name of the hotel I'm staying in. How pathetic is that? Rather.
Rather fucking pathetic.
"Umm…hey." I sway a little in my seat as some tan, tall…okay, gorgeousblond takes the seat across from me. I watch him as he orders a beer- cheap, just like mine- and takes a long swig, even though he already looks a little tipsy, though not as tipsy as I. "Why're you crying? It's Christmas Eve, you know."
I chuckle just a bit, rolling my eyes as I put my hand on the counter to steady myself. What can I say? I'm not the biggest fan of alcohol. "Careful. You might accidentally sound like you care."
After that, he just looks at me with the most beautiful oceanic eyes I've ever seen. And, of course, with him watching me, all I can do is watch him. He has a boyish face, but not in the chubby, round-faced kind of way, but in a way that says just how innocent he is. Those beautiful eyes of his seem to be telling a story. Maybe it's a sad tale and maybe it's a happy one. Maybe even somewhere in between. I wouldn't know, because I can't seem to read it. He has this awkward dirty blond hair, but it suits him- if a mixture between a Mohawk and a mullet could ever suit anyone- and it works perfectly, because it looks natural, which makes everything better in my eyes, because I despise hair dye- slate is my natural hair color despite what some people may think. His skin is a sun-kissed tan, the complete opposite of my porcelain pale. He just looks so…sweet, for lack of a better word. Of course, with my luck he couldn't possibly be. He's probably just another player.
"Would a kiss make you feel better?" Now, I know I must be catching flies with my mouth hanging open so wide.
"Huh?" And, people have had the nerve to call me intelligent?
He just smirked, leaning across the table and stopping less than an inch away from my lips. "Would a kiss make you feel better?" For once, I don't even care about the alcohol breath ghosting across my lips and filling my nose.
"It couldn't hurt." I breathe right back at him.
And, I don't know if it's the alcohol or the pent up sorrow, but I don't think I've ever been kissed so passionately in my entire life.
"Ohh…" Another noise escapes my cherry red lips as he runs his callused fingers down my back, the material of my shirt causing an airy, chilling breeze, reducing me to a shivering puddle of goo.
"You like that?" He smirks. And, without even waiting for a reply, he rips the offending material off of me, slinging it off to the side of the ocean blue room that we've somehow landed in. He doesn't give me any time to adjust to the cold air on my flushed skin before he pushes me onto a near by bed in all of its plush glory. "I'm sure you'll like this even more…"
And, he's on top of me. Touching me, his hands on my bare torso, pressing down on the heated skin. He licks the side of my neck and, just as I cock my head to the side to allow him better access, he bites down onto my soft, pale skin, drawing out little red droplets of ruby red liquid. I gasp as I feel his teeth sink into my skin, as he licks the wound…lovingly, in a way I've never felt before. I feel him run his hands along my sides and trail them down my chest, rubbing soothing, heated circles into my skin.
I moan as he begins to play with one of my rosy buds, fingering it until it hardens. He leans down, smirking against my skin, before running his tongue along it and rolling it around within his deliciously heated mouth. I mewl at the loss as he takes his mouth away, allowing the chilly night air to surround me. "Wanting…aren't we? Do you want more…?" I moan like the whore I'm sure I'm becoming as he begins to toy with my other nipple, running his fingers along it before licking it as he did with the other.
Pleasure. That's all I can think about. I don't have to worry about what I'm going to do tomorrow or the next day, when I'm sure the money will run out. I don't have to care about the way he treated me. About the way he cheated on me. I don't have to think about the way he used me for his own sick, twisted pleasures. He couldn't have possibly loved me…I know that now. I was too young…I was too insecure, hurt by the people around me. He just used me. That's all he ever did. He used my flimsy mind to get what he wanted. He used my body to fulfill whatever pleasures he desired. But, right now, that's just fucking fine. It's not my problem. This is. This gorgeous body above my sickly pale one. This…strange, slightly drunk person slowly moving lower and lower down my deprived body.
This is what I've been missing.
"You sure you want to do this?" He breaths into my ear, his long fingers caressing the hem of my tight- steadily tightening- jeans. I moan airily at the feeling. He asked. He actually asked. That's something that he never bothered with. It was never "do you want" it was "do as I want". My wants didn't matter with him. How could I ever have thought that he really loved me? How could anyone that loved me do the things he did to me? How could they?
They couldn't, because they wouldn't.
"Yeah…" As soon as the word leaves my kiss-bruised lips, another set covers my own as hands begin to fumble with the buckle on my jeans. His mouth…tastes like the most exotic sweets. And, maybe it only feels so good to me because I've only ever tasted one person, but…I don't want this flavor to end. I don't want this night to end.
I whimper as he takes his mouth away, takes away that wonderful area I could spend the rest of my life exploring. He lifts himself up above me, his oceanic eyes lighting with an unreal, electric current. "Don't worry…I'll make you feel better." Slowly, I hear the feel the button come down and hear the zipper of my pants being pulled away. I help him slide my jeans down my thighs, across my knees. It feels so strange watching someone else throw my jeans into the corner of the room, feeling someone else's eyes on my bare legs, my awakening arousal barely hidden beneath my tight, silky boxers.
I gasp as he begins to make his fingers dance against the heated skin on the inside of my thighs. He chuckles as I moan, his long fingers touching me through my underwear. I know I must sound like some little slut to this person. This person that I don't even know. But, that's okay. I'm hurt. I'm drunk. And, it's Christmas Eve. Can't I at least have this?
"Hey…why am I the only one?" I mumble at him. At this gorgeous blond. He just looks at me, one eyebrow cocked, taking his hands away.
"The only one…what?" He asks innocently, like he isn't so very close to my barely clothed groin, like he hasn't been touching me.
"The only one losing clothes." I say seriously. It takes me a moment to realize that he's laughing at me. Laughing at me in the most musical voice. I can feel his breath tickling my skin, his hair brushing my abdomen.
"Well, we'll have to fix that then, won't we?" He smirks, his eyes as light as sapphires. He pulls away from and slides his shirt off over his head. And, I lose my breath. Beneath that black shirt of his, his sun-kissed skin is stretched elegantly over modest muscles that seem to go on forever on his long, lanky frame.
Without even thinking, I run my smooth palms down his chest, scratching ever so slightly with my trimmed nails. He doesn't force me away; he just purrs, not unlike a cat. He would never let me touch him. Our love was one-sided. He could do whatever he wanted to me. Throw me on the ground. Hit me. Fuck me. I was nothing to him. After all, you don't do those things to the people you love. Growing a bit bolder, I dip my fingertips into the waistband of his pants, watching him for his reaction. He didn't stop me. He didn't scream at me. He didn't hit me. He didn't…hurt me. It was like he thinks this is okay, that it's okay for me to touch him.
Like all of this is okay.
Hesitantly, I slide my hands down further, fingering the hem of his boxer shorts. He just smiles down at me- kindly- as I begin to slide them down his hips. He pulls them the rest of the way off and then we're the same. His body against mine, our arousal's touching through thin cloth. "Happy now?" He asks. I smile nodding as I lay back on the bed with him on top of me again.
I feel like I've lost myself as he pulls my underwear down, showing every part of me. And, I don't know what I've become when he takes me in his mouth, covering me with such a delicious heat. I can't stop myself from moaning like some little bitch that's never belonged to themselves, because I haven't. I've never belonged to myself. I've always been someone else's' property. My parent's. His. And, now, right now, I belong to him. To this blond, that's treating me like no one else ever has.
I thrust my hips erratically as he pulls me into his throat, his hot mouth sucking me in. He doesn't stop me. It's like he doesn't even care that I'm probably chocking him, that someone he doesn't know is allowing him to do this while he's drunk. He'll wake up in the morning and leave me, just like he did. But, this time, I'll have to leave. After all, I don't live here. He does. I'm just the whore of the hour.
Huh.
Maybe I'm drunker than I thought I was.
"I-I…I'm gonna…" I hide my face behind my hand, spreading my legs wide, hoping, praying for him to take me in farther, to bring me closer to oblivion.
He doesn't allow it. He pulls away before I can reach that elusive peak, the thing I desire the most. "Not just yet…" He smirks, kissing my lower tuffs of hair. I look down at him through half-lidded eyes, at my spread legs, the hard-on I so desperately want to get rid of pressing against him. And, I nearly laugh, because…well, doesn't he mind that type of thing?
I whine as he puts his fingers up to my lips. What does he want me to do? Am I supposed to bite them…? Is he into that type of thing? Does he want me to- "Haven't you done this before?" He asks teasingly after a few moments of me just staring.
I blush, my face on fire. "O-of course I have! I've just never…"
He laughs. "You're supposed to suck on them." I nod and do as he asks. What an odd thing to do. Is this how normal people have sex? He never told me to suck on his digits. So, was that normal, or is this? Slowly, after I've made sure to thoroughly coat each one, I let them go.
Curiously, I watch him as he spreads my legs farther apart and puts his fingers against my crease, exploring. He circles my tight ring of muscles with one slickened finger, causing me to moan, long and loud, before pushing it in to the knuckle. I yelp at the intrusion. Prep…? He's giving me prep? He never gave me prep. Not even for my first time. He said it was for those people who couldn't take the pain…could he have been wrong? Or, was he just lying to me again?
It doesn't matter.
Right now, it just doesn't matter.
"Ohhh…" I whimper as he slips another finger into my clamped walls, rubbing and scissoring them as he explores. It doesn't hurt; I've done the dirty deed too many times for it to hurt me anymore. It just feels nice. Nice because I want this too. So what if I regret it in the morning? Can't doing this be my Christmas present to myself? Or something like that…
I scream.
I scream as he begins to finger that sweet, sweet bundle of nerves within me.
"You like that?" He asks, touching me again for good measure. I moan, my back arching off the bed longingly. Slowly, he takes his fingers away, wiping them on the bed beside me, like he doesn't want to get me dirty, even though I'm already leaking precum out of my length that's slowly dripping down onto my fiery skin.
I spread my legs wider as he positions himself and just for an instant I see him hesitate, watching me with those gorgeous oceanic eyes.
"Oh god…do you want me to…use a condom, lube?" He asks me, shaking, his voice pitching because of the arousal I'm sure he wishes to take care of. I nearly laugh. This man, this gorgeous, blond, tan man that I've known for less than four hours is asking me such a…such a question and he never asked me such a thing! How ludicrous is that?
"Just…go ahead." And, he does. He pushes into me and I don't care about the pain. I just moan like the little slut I've turned myself into. I scream as he touches me, lost in my own passion. Because…it doesn't matter how embarrassed I am, or what becomes of me after this. He'll just get rid of me in the morning. I might as well enjoy myself, right? Right.
It's not like matters.
I'm only good for these types of thing anyway.
"Merry Christmas!" I groan, slowly peeling my eyes open. And, instead of the pale green eyes I've been met with every morning for these past six months, I see an oceanic blue, fringed with seaweed green. What an odd thing.
He smiles at me boyishly, nothing like the passionate smirks he gave me last night. Hesitantly, I sit up, leaning back on my elbows, blushing because I know very little of me is covered by the bed's thin sheets. Strangely, he doesn't seem to mind. "Merry Christmas…" I mumble, causing him to smile that much more.
"So…" He drawls, much like a child, his eyes light beneath the frayed bangs falling in his face, "I don't normally do…that with people I've don't really know." I bite my lower lip, knowing what's coming. He's going to kick me out, get rid of me. That's the only possible explanation. He's already gotten what he wanted from me, why would he force himself to keep me around any longer? "So, hi! I'm Demyx!" He holds his hand out for me to shake and all I can do is stare.
Stare because this isn't supposed to happen. My life doesn't work like this- isn't supposed to work like this. He shouldn't be so nice to me. He shouldn't act so civil. He shouldn't still be smiling. He just…shouldn't.
"…Zexion." We shake hands like we didn't do the dirty deed just last night, like we've only just met, like that night of drunken passion didn't really happen.
And, that was only the beginning.
I didn't know at the time that that Christmas spent eating instant dinners and watching children's specials on TV wearing hand-me-down clothes would be the best day of my life. Nor did I know that it would lead to the best years of my life, or anniversaries and unprompted make-out sessions in the back of a rundown blue pick-up truck. I didn't know anything, but that's okay.
Because that Christmas was the only year that I had no presents underneath the tree, no turkey for dinner, and no lovingly hung decorations.
That Christmas was the Christmas that I learned the two most important lessons of my young life.
1). It's only the thought that really counts.
And, 2). Tall, tan, gorgeous blonds beat cheaters any day.
A/N: Merry Christmas Everybody!
If anybody's wondering, Zexion's former lover was Vexen and yes, he was a pedophiliac science teacher. He didn't start out like that, but that's how he ended up.
Anyway, I'm pretty proud of this, since it was my first time really working with flashbacks, but I do feel like it fell a bit flat there towards the end. Either way, I'm happy with how it turned out. So, Merry Christmas; hope you liked it! ^-^
Reviews are appreciated!