CHAPTER TWENTY
The weather was getting worse.
There was one window, on the far side of the room facing the Wastelands, and in between being whipped by solid-sounding needles of rain, the curtains flickered with flashes of lightning that struck out over the desert-like landscape. That was the only illumination in the room, which seemed to grow darker with every minute that Axel was gone. Being alone in here, locked up and mute, when the world was so chaotic around him… it was a new kind of frightening. Roxas didn't want to want the man to return, but he couldn't help it; he didn't like this dark isolation. It... it was putting him on edge. It felt – familiar, but alien, cold, yet with a prickle of heat started to spread up his body at the same time. He didn't know what it was, exactly, that was doing this to him… only that his heart was slowly pounding faster, fear growing gradually steadier. He clung to the table's upright column, pressing the crown of his head against it while his legs went numb beneath him, firmly keeping his breaths in check. With his mouth blocked off like this, it would be too easy to get worked up and start hyperventilating. He had to keep calm.
He was uncomfortably damp, clothes pasted to his body, hair still slicked to the lines of his skull, and the handcuffs seemed tighter than usual. The shirt that was wrapped around his head was digging painfully into the gash on his cheek, a fact he wished Axel had thought about before half-strangling half his face with it. From one minute to the next, he was forced to shift minutely, utterly incapable of finding any position that vaguely resembled comfort. He really – hadn't known that there was a new low to sink to, quite like this. He felt more a prisoner in this moment than he had the entire time in Axel's custody. It was… lonely. And painful. And… he didn't want to feel like this, like he was the only human being on the planet, the only one left alive…
He really didn't… want to.
Axel came back after ten or fifteen minutes, letting in a roar of wind before slamming the door shut, once again absolutely saturated from his trip through the rain. Panting, he dropped the duffel bag down under the light switch, turning on the lights at the same time, blinking in the sudden brightness, eyes going instantly to the huddled mass beneath the small table. "It's me. Sorry I took a while, the guy at reception was chatty." He swiped some of the water off his face, a black plastic bucket filled with ice rattling in his other hand, some vending machine snacks and drinks on top of the frozen cubes. Hitching it up against his chest, delving through the collection, he started, "I got some of those weird things you like, you know the ones…" He trailed off for a moment, eyes briefly losing focus, before sharpening on the small, blond body which had yet to twitch any acknowledgement of his return. He studied it for a moment, then softly ventured, "Roxas…?" The bucket rattled again as he lowered it to his side, head cocking slightly, a frown developing. "Hey, Rox…"
Slowly, the boy lifted his head from the floor, turning towards the redhead, a strained expression pulling his features harshly. His lips were stretched painfully around the wet fabric, water still shining on his skin from the downpour, eyebrows drawn together with slow-burning anger and distress. Axel flinched back a little, grimacing. "Don't look at me like that. It's not like there was anything else I could do, right?" Roxas let out a grunt, Axel sighing. He crossed to the blond, crouching down beside him. "I didn't mean for you to have to be down here. It's just that the bed doesn't have anything to lock you to like the last place did." He reached down and cupped the side of the boy's face, turning it towards him, thumb touching his thinned-out bottom lip. Roxas jerked back ineffectively, unable to break away at this angle, Axel extending his other hand and brushing it over the boy's hair. "…I was talking to the clerk, like I said," he murmured, green eyes roving over Roxas' gagged face, "and it looks like we're going to be here for a while. There've been flood warnings." Roxas closed his eyes, taking a slow breath. Carefully stroking his damp head, the man quietly continued, "So what we need to do now is just get settled in, have something to eat, and rest for the night. Okay? You must be hungry, and uncomfortable. I'll make it all better, Roxas. I'll make everything better, I promise."
Roxas' eyes popped open, another grunt of protest meeting fabric as Axel sat down, leaning onto one elbow, and drew him gently to his chest. As he started to struggle, the redhead soothed, "Ssh, sh, it's okay, I'm not hurting you. I'm just going to take off the gag. Everything's fine." His hands went around to the back of Roxas' neck, fingers working for several minutes at the knots he'd made there. Roxas sweated between his arms, face pressed almost flush against the man's collarbone, Axel's progress calm and unhurried. Despite his demeanour, however, Roxas… could hear his heart beating. From this closeness, it was thumping swiftly, he could almost see the man's chest pulsing with it under his black undershirt. It made him swallow, made him shut his eyes anew, nervously waiting for the ordeal to be over.
At long last, he felt the grip around his head loosen. Axel's hands were behind him for only moments longer, giving a few final tugs, before the tight wrapping was being unwound, releasing his cheeks, relenting against his mouth, the saliva-coated blockage slowly removed from between his teeth. Pain throbbed through his sewn-up gash, a light touch against his jaw signifying that the gauze had flipped down, the glue of the tape that had held it in place almost entirely dissolved. Roxas reflexively moved his mouth, opening and shutting it, squeezing his teeth together then moistening his lips, and all the while Axel's gaze was fixed upon him, arms still wrapped around his shoulders. It took him several seconds to realise, to feel the concentration fixated upon him, blue eyes ticking upward. Axel stared through half-closed lids, before shifting his hand slowly up to Roxas' hair, fingertips pushing through the damp spikes and touching his scalp, the boy shivering at the sudden, intimate touch.
"…You're all wet still," the man commented, a huskiness to his voice that hadn't been there minutes ago. Roxas became acutely aware of the parts of their bodies that were touching, knees and chests and thighs, shoulders, arms. He could feel Axel's breaths against his face, the smell laced with bourbon, as though the redhead had taken a swig from the bottle before locking up the car.
"You… you dragged me through the rain," Roxas muttered, averting his eyes. Then, after a mindless moment, added, "Get off me. I…" He tried to pull away, but was stopped by the handcuffs, his position as vulnerable and helpless as ever. Axel's hand removed itself from his hair, instead brushing down the side of his face.
"Sorry about doing that to your cut." With a tug, he removed the dangling gauze and tape, a finger smoothing apologetically across the site. "I'll put a new one on. It needed changing anyway, we have to take good care of it."
"Axel." Roxas was close to shuddering, from the anxiety, from the cold touch against his skin which was both so gentle and so nerve-wracking. "Stop it. Get off me, I said. I mean it."
Axel released a slow breath, and Roxas' heart nearly stopped as the redhead's forehead pressed down onto his own, a hand cupping the back of his head. Their noses were almost touching, he could practically taste the alcohol drifting from Axel's mouth… but then, in the next moment, Axel was gone, pulling away and climbing to his feet, Roxas left dazed and blinking on the thin carpet. Going over to the door, the redhead engaged the bolt and deadlock, picked up the ice bucket and bag and carried them back over, the lights inside the room growing more distinct as the world outside grew darker with encroaching night.
Depositing the bucket on top of the round table, Axel slung the bag onto the bed, two mattresses with little wheels on the bottom, made up to look clean and crisp despite the rather dilapidated conditions of the structure itself. While Roxas watched warily from the ground, Axel briefly explored their small room, turning on the bathroom light, disappearing inside for a minute. The shower came on, the hiss of water almost lost inside the louder thunder of drops from outside, inconsequential in comparison. With steam beginning to drift out through the doorway, Axel returned to the bed and unzipped the bag, shuffling through its contents, pulling out a couple of wads of clothing and laying them out on the bed.
Producing the handcuffs key out of God only knew where – he was careful to never let Roxas see its exact location, precaution being ever the name of the game – he approached the locked-up blond and said, "I'm going to take them off completely now. Enjoy it, because it won't last long, and just remember this: we are in the middle of nowhere, Roxas. The second you step out that door –" His arm swung around, finger pointing out towards the weather. "- there's nowhere left for you to go. Nobody will save you out here. Nobody can pick you up on the side of the road, either, because they'll just as soon be swept away by the storm. So you can try anything you like, but –"
"I get it," Roxas interrupted wearily. "Jeeze. I get it. I'm not stupid; I understand that it's impossible." As Axel adopted a faintly impatient look, the boy went on roughly, "And you can take your 'co-operative mode' and fuck it. I do have the ability to gauge a situation, and see when I'm boned before I've even begun. There is absolutely. No. Point. In me trying to slip away from you right now, because I. Wouldn't. Make it." His glare was defiant, Axel weighting his sincerity critically. In the end, however, he nodded.
"Okay. If there's one thing I know you could never be, it's stupid, Rox." In there somewhere lay an implicit threat, Roxas' scowl increasing, but finally the two men had appeared to have come to an understanding of sorts. Axel bobbed down onto his haunches at the other side of the table, and Roxas felt brushes of skin, heard the hard click of metal. It was incredible; for the first time since he'd regained consciousness in yesterday's motel room, his right hand was released, aching at the sudden lack of pressure. He had almost forgotten what this felt like, not being permanently chained to something. His left hand joined it in liberty, shoulders able to change position, elbows drawing close to his body as he groped and massaged his poor wrists, the sheer force of his relief almost dizzying.
He pushed himself up to sitting, bumping the top of his head lightly on the table's underside, hands unsteadily gripping its edge as he clambered out from beneath it. Axel straightened in tandem, watching untrustingly. Roxas threw him a glance, back to rubbing his wrists, nails dragging along the insides where the metal had had its unrelenting choke-hold. "Are you okay?" Axel asked, to which the blond nodded, biting back the absurd reflex to thank him. There was definitely gratitude there, though, and lots of it. He couldn't remember being more thankful for anything in his whole life. "Good," the man said. "That's good. You can get into the shower now, then."
Roxas' whole body locked up, wide eyes jerking onto the man's serious face. "…You're kidding me."
Axel cocked his head. "What's to kid about? You're wet, you haven't showered for a couple days; hell, Roxas, you still smell kind of like smoke from the fire. You've been sweating, you've been sick, and you've slept in those clothes a few times by now. You need to get clean. You want to, don't you?" The man arched an eyebrow. "I know I want to, I haven't showered in that long, either. I stink."
"Then you have a fucking shower," the boy challenged.
"I'm going to," Axel replied, a sharp hint entering his tone, "but I figured you might want to go first, since you were so uncomfortable, and because I'm such a gentleman."
"Oh, yeah, you're a real fuckin' gentleman," responded Roxas harshly, expression contorting into something like rage, his entire body reacting with a violent burst of adrenaline to the threat that the man was presenting. Removing his clothes in this person's presence was out of the question, everything in him railed against it, this was the same fucking pervert who'd molested him in his apartment, chained him up, wanted him. "I've got a lot to thank you for, with your gentlemanly ways."
"If I wasn't such a fucking gentleman," Axel snapped back, "you'd still be chained to that fucking bed at the start of the fucking Wastelands getting fucked." He'd closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, one hand wrapped around Roxas' upper arm, half dragging the boy up towards his face to snarl the words down into it. "Don't you act like I'm going to do something to you, Roxas, because I have been so fucking good so far. Consider this my best behaviour, okay? And then get in the shower, because I'm tired, believe it or not, and maybe you don't care about that, but in order for me to not drive us straight off the road tomorrow, I'm going to need to get a good rest in."
"Last night it was food, and this time it's sleep, huh?" Roxas was trembling, wanting so desperately to kick out at the demanding bastard. "Seems like the second you're being deprived of everything you want, you take it out on me."
Axel's narrowed eyes were an inch away, his voice a sibilant hiss. "I'm being deprived of everything I want for every instant that I'm near you, and I haven't been taking it out on you. Don't push me too far, Roxas. I'm not well known for my patience."
Maintaining a cruel grip on the blond, Axel dragged him over towards the bathroom, forcing him through the doorway before he could shove him off, following him in and slamming the door hard enough to send a bang ricocheting all around the tiled space. It was echoed by a peal of thunder up above, the monsoon unrelenting. "No!" Roxas thrashed and fought, steam filling the room in seconds now that it had nowhere to flee to.
"Stop it!" Axel yelled in his ear, both hands holding onto him now, trying to control him as he flung his body around. "I'm not going to hurt you!"
Every instinct was bellowing warnings, Roxas a fury of elbows and heels and snapping teeth, a hellcat in a cage. Axel's fingers dragged at him, pinching, the man's chest hard against his back, before something suddenly covered the boy's face and head, jerking at his shoulders, and it wasn't until he'd twisted away from it, hissing, that he realised Axel had just removed his t-shirt.
He stopped abruptly, startled by the development, the redhead panting angrily in front of the door, blocking off the only route of escape. Balling the shirt up, Axel tossed it hard at the floor with a wet slap, snarling, "If you don't strip voluntarily, right the hell now, I'll do it for you. You are getting into that shower, damn it. I will make you naked if you force me to, or you can do it yourself. That's it, those are your choices." There was a terrifying finality to his tone – he meant it. He really, really meant it. And Roxas knew how strong, and how potentially violent, Axel could be.
Axel watched the blood drain out of Roxas' face, watched even his chest look paler, sun-kissed surface that it otherwise was. With it, his anger abated, tiredness and an attempt at understanding taking its place, all with underlying resignation. "I can close my eyes, Roxas." His voice was almost inaudible between the twin cacophonies of the shower and the rain. Axel leaned back against the door, a slump to his shoulders, eyes already averted from the half-naked body that stood so defensively in front of him. "I just want you to be able to get clean. I want you to feel comfortable."
"…Comfortable," Roxas pointed out shakily, "isn't holding me prisoner like this."
"Well, this is as good as it's going to get," the redhead answered, expression pinched, effort in his eyes, as though it was taking all his will to keep from reaching across the tiny bathroom and continuing what he'd started when he'd removed the boy's shirt. "Take what's on offer, or you'll find yourself with nothing, okay? Just –" He shut his eyes tightly. "I'm not looking, so do it."
Roxas stared at him for a long, suspicious moment, hesitating. He knew that Axel would be as good as his word if he didn't co-operate… and co-operating – wasn't he meant to be doing that at the moment? He took a breath, waited longer to test and see whether or not the man kept his eyes shut. After a minute, Axel asked, "Are you in?" He still hadn't looked, so… that was an okay sign, wasn't it?
"…Almost," the blond replied hoarsely, and reluctantly put his fingers to his shorts. They trembled, courage quailing, but the knowledge of what would occur if he didn't get it over with forced him to remove the last of his clothing. He climbed quickly into the shower recess, a flimsy, plastic curtain all that stood between the blond and the man obsessed with him, and threw his shorts and underwear over towards his shirt. The smack of clothing made Axel open his eyes, and for one electrifying moment, they were staring at each other. Roxas had his lower half covered by the curtain, but one bare leg was showing, along with his entire torso, and… in the brief instant in which he wasn't guarding his expressions, Axel looked – hungry.
With a swish of plastic, Roxas vanished into the shower receptacle, the curtain's edges firmly pulled to either end. He noticed with sharp dismay that it had a tendency to drift, the cheap wooden rings gravitating slowly back towards one another along the bar, a couple of inches opening up from either side which refused point-blank to stay put. He retreated to the far corner of the rectangular cubicle, to the location most out of view, fearful and paranoid. Shit. He couldn't remember anyone, anywhere, ever, looking at him like Axel just had. Shit.
He was supposed to be washing himself, he supposed, spying the small complimentary soap in the holder on the side of the shower, but… Axel was right over there, barely four feet away, and would be bound to see him shifting behind the not-quite transparent, not-quite opaque curtain, not to mention hear him… The thought of touching himself in any way, shape or form while Axel could pretty much picture it in his mind was freaking him out.
But… he had to admit that the hot water was nice. Now that he was in here, under the flow, although a little bit to one side due to his hiding-in-the-corner technique, he was realising just how much he needed this, for his nerves if nothing else. Being in a shower was – normal. It was part of the cleansing ritual, part of slewing off the dirt of the day and coming out the other side refreshed and human again. Even with Axel so nearby, Roxas couldn't keep the relaxing connotations attached with showering from entering his mind. Okay, so he didn't exactly relax at all himself – he couldn't, his muscles wouldn't stop tensing tighter and tighter – but his mind seemed to calm down a fraction. His emotions, his swirling thoughts, his raging fear and anger and helplessness… while none of it came anywhere close to vanishing, he found – a measure of composure in amongst it. Life was chaos, seemingly symbolised by the crashing storm right outside the motel building, but – Roxas was just a guy in a shower. He was just another person who needed to get… clean.
He did end up washing himself, a quick all over scrub to dislodge the layers of sweat and grime, along with a wild attack of fingers through his hair, but after that, he was ready to get out. All benefits aside, he didn't know how long this calming effect would last mentally when he was wound tighter than a spring physically.
"Axel." His voice echoed and bounced, steam entering his lungs as he breathed. "I'm… I'm ready to get out now."
There was a pause, before the man said, his voice low, "So get out, then."
Roxas closed his eyes at the changed quality in his tone. That hunger – it hadn't faded. He could hear it, feel it rolling slowly through the air. "…No. You leave first. You can be right outside the door. There's nowhere for me to go, right? I'll get out, and dry off, and get dressed. That's it. Then I'll come out."
Silence met his proposal, Roxas holding his breath and waiting, nerves on edge. As movement came from beyond the curtain, the blond opened his eyes, drawing back, pulse thumping, wondering what the man was planning on doing… then, Axel said, "I left a towel on the sink. I'll be right outside. Don't shut off the water; I like it that temperature." His footsteps crossed the tiles, there was a breath of coolness as the door opened and closed… and he was gone.
Thank… thank God.
Roxas let out his breath in a whoosh, weak-kneed all of a sudden. As requested, he left the taps alone, the water passing over his back as he pushed aside the curtain and stepped out onto the bathmat. He glanced towards the door, half-expecting Axel to still be standing there, but the redhead had indeed left him alone. The mentioned towel sat looking white and soft and harmless on the hand basin, Roxas tugging it up out of its folded square and thoroughly drying off. He'd had enough of dampness tonight. It was only as he was scrubbing his hair dry, spikes briefly smashed into thousands of wiry threads, that he noticed he didn't actually have anything to change into – not only that, but Axel had taken his wet clothes. He went still with the towel over his head, mind locking up at the realisation. But… the man did have clothing for him, right? He wasn't just going to let Roxas go naked… right?
With the towel wrapped firmly around his waist, strands of blond falling across his face, Roxas cautiously went to the door, hesitated, then opened it and placed one blue eye to the steamy gap. Axel was not within instant view, a fact which disconcerted him. He opened the door wider, stepped out into the room, head twisting to the side, seeing the bed, the table, the bag and bucket of ice and snacks… but still no sign of Axel.
Roxas knew he was behind the door before the man actually announced his presence; there was simply nowhere else he could have been. Still, somehow he couldn't help but jump as the door swung shut behind him, Axel stepping up to his back before he could spin, arms wrapping around his middle and going tight.
Roxas forgot for a moment how to breathe. He whispered, "Don't."
Axel pressed a kiss against his shoulder, tasting the drips of water from the shower still beaded on his skin. "I won't."
Gulping, shivering, the blond said, "Let me go."
Another kiss, slow and sensual, to the back of his neck. "I'm going to."
As his fingers wandered up Roxas' chest, the boy hunched his shoulders, grinding out, "When?"
Axel let out a sigh, touched his tongue to the small, hard mound of bone swelling from the top of the boy's spine, fingertips brushing around one of his nipples, the blond shuddering in his arms, squirming and sinking lower as his legs quivered. His mouth travelling up towards Roxas' ear, Axel murmured, "I don't suppose 'when I feel like it' is an option, is it?" If Roxas hadn't been gripping the towel to his hips hard enough to numb his fingers, he would have started driving his elbows straight back into Axel's stomach and diaphragm. Axel gave the soft shell of flesh a tiny nip with sharp teeth, then withdrew, leaving Roxas to his wild heartbeat and desperate breaths. "Clothes are on the bed. They're mine, so they'll be too big, but they're clean. I won't watch... but I'll have to stay until you're done."
Roxas turned to look over his shoulder, Axel having shifted clear across the room to lean this time against the front door, as though the boy would try to barge past and flee into the night. He wasn't… altogether sure that that wouldn't be such a bad idea. There was still a – a look in his eyes. A dark cloudiness, along with a flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature. Roxas nearly lost his breath again just looking at him, and instead twisted quickly away, hurrying over towards the bed. He stopped in front of the mattress, glancing down at the clothing the redhead had lain out, before saying loudly, without looking over, "Turn around and face the door."
With a sharp, mocking tone, Axel replied, "But I thought you were trying to gain some trust, Rox? Gotta give trust to get it, remember that."
Struggling to keep his temper in check, feeling it thrust ferociously through his chest from all the fear fuelling it, he snapped, "Fucking turn around, Axel. I'm not dropping this towel until you're facing that stupid door."
"I can't do that," the man said flatly, cutting off all further argument. "What happens if you decide to sneak up on me, Rox? I can't take that risk. If you don't wanna drop the towel, fine, keep it. But that means you'll be sleeping in it tonight, all night, and I won't be giving any second chances."
Roxas crushed his eyes shut, hissed in a breath, then spat out, "Shit!" Axel covered his eyes with one hand. "I don't see how this is any different to you facing the door, either way you still can't see me, damn it!"
"You want to give me a reason to look?" came the soft response, his face deadly-serious behind his hand, and for once, Roxas shut the hell up. Axel was right – he needed to take what he could get, before the guy decided to change his mind altogether. He dropped the towel, grabbed up the soft black pants and white t-shirt, and yanked them on over clean skin.
When he looked sideways again, Axel was watching him from between his fingers, green eyes glinting.
Roxas' blood went cold, anger forming a tight ball in his stomach, the word, "Bastard," slithering out from between his teeth. Axel smiled blandly, and pushed away from the door, approaching the bed with slow, lazy steps. The blond drew back, imaginary hackles rising, wondering just how much of this his heart could take before it gave over and simply erupted. Axel drew to a halt at the mattress' corner, shoulders loose, eyes hooded and watchful. "…Give me your hand, Roxas," he commanded quietly, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting his lips. The boy's knuckles tightened as his fingers balled in on themselves, staying firmly at his sides. Axel's eyes, which had lightened somewhat with the hovering smirk, dimmed again, a cold wind blowing over his features. "Give me your hand." He stretched out his own, long fingers and a lined palm, silently insisting.
Roxas swallowed. "Why would I want to do that? I'm not a girl, and you're sure as hell not my date tonight, so we'll just keep our hands to ourselves, I think."
"Roxas." All humour, all light, was dead and gone. "Why do you persist in thinking you have any rights in all this, huh?" He was on the blond like lightning, Roxas able only to let out a gasp before Axel slammed him straight onto the bed, chest-first, head twisted to one side on the comforter. The tall man was on top of him a second later, pinning him down, knees on either side of the boy's hips, hands painfully tight around his wrists as he curved them around. Bending low, Axel demanded of his visible blue eye, "What's the point of pretending to co-operate with me when you just then turn around and disobey me? All I asked was that you put your hand in mine, and you give me some smart-ass reply like that's the cool thing to do." His nails dug into soft skin, frustration crushing Roxas' wrists tighter and tighter. "Sweetheart, it's not cool to piss me off. I've said plenty of times now that I don't want to hurt you, but again and again you're driving me to it. I try to give you this illusion of independence, and you keep forcing me to assert my dominance. Roxas." He pressed his nose and mouth in between the boy's shoulders, took a long, deep inhalation of the mingled scents of his clothing with Roxas' skin. "Please, oh, please," he whispered, "don't push me too far."
Roxas grunted faintly, a choked sound, burying his nose into the comforter. Axel lifted himself a little, staring down at the slowly reforming spikes on the back of the blond head, drying out, curling slightly. Temptation rose, powerful, gripping, made him peel back his lips and groan as he leaned over the prone figure beneath him. Here the boy was, in his hands, at his mercy, smelling like skin and soap and still slightly damp to the touch, with water hammering down outside, creating an isolated haven within which they had to exist all alone together… Every animal instinct within him snarled to life. Axel's fingers pulsed around Roxas' wrists, longing rising up in a ferocious tide of need and possession. He lowered himself again, bringing the captive wrists together and holding them in one hand, the now free hand moving up to sink through the layers of Roxas' hair, hips pushing down, feeling the body underneath his own, testing it. He was holding on so tightly, it had to hurt, but the kid wasn't saying anything, wasn't objecting, wasn't whimpering, didn't make a sound – but he was breathing hard, just like Axel. Fast, just like Axel.
…Shallow.
Like – fear.
Axel knew fear; knew the sound of it, the sight of it, how to cultivate it, practically knew the taste of it in the air, and Roxas… he was emitting it in waves. As if that wasn't enough, he was also shaking desperately, and it wasn't the kind of 'desperation' Axel could fix with some erotic play. It was… Roxas was scared.
Scratch that; the kid was terrified.
For a brief, reeling moment, Axel nearly snapped, nearly broke apart there and then, felt the urge to sink his teeth into Roxas and remind him of who he was, what he meant, and everything that Axel had ever made his body feel and tremble at in the past. Roxas would remember, he would remember, he would cast aside this falseness and be Roxas again…
…Or maybe it just wouldn't be that easy. Nothing was ever that easy. The only easy thing that had ever happened in Axel's life was losing track of Roxas in the first place.
He whispered, "Damn it," and slowly, slowly, forced his grip to relax on the blond. The fingers which had squeezed so hard at his spikes eased off, gave a soft slide of apology, while his vice-like hold on the boy's wrists gentled. He cupped the back of Roxas' head, sagging onto the blond's back, digging his face into the dip of his spine. "God damn it, Roxas, I just wanted to cuff you again. That was all. All you had to do was give me your fucking hand, and I'd already have been in the shower. You asshole."
Thunder cracked nearby, the two of them flinching at the suddenness of it. With a quiet exhalation, Axel drew away from the blond, moving off of his body, pulling the cuffs from his back pocket and clicking one ring around a wrist. As his bare feet touched the carpet, Roxas hesitated, rolled over halfway, sending back a wary, wide-eyed look, like he didn't trust the redhead to not fling himself back on and start rutting. But… Axel was in control of himself, for now. It was getting more difficult, but he was holding out. He was… doing okay.
Roxas was left under the table again, chained to it once more as Axel silently gathered fresh clothing off the bed, wrinkled after their struggle, and disappeared into the bathroom. Steam billowed out when the door opened, the water having been running all that time, then was sliced off as he shut it again after himself. Roxas was back to being alone, although at least this time he wasn't gagged. But then, last time he hadn't been petrified like this, so it was hard to figure out which was the lesser of two evils.
Jesus hell. He'd really thought that was it; that that was the moment it all fell apart. He'd thought he was going to end up raped. Axel had slid his fucking crotch against his ass, Roxas could still feel it, it was this – living memory against his flesh. But the worst part, the most despicable thing of all, was that Roxas had got this… sudden flash of recognition. That dream he'd had, just a few weeks ago, the one that had ended up with him getting a freaking hard-on in the middle of suburbia, it had been so reminiscent of this. Axel on top of him, reeking of stale smoke and sweat… really, it had been the smell more than anything that had spiked through him, to the point where – he'd… almost been responding to the touches. It wasn't that he wanted to, his mind rebelled fiercely at the idea, but his body was following a different set of rules. His body – had remembered Axel, for just the briefest of moments, and… and now, he had to wonder… Heart beating frantically in his chest, he had to wonder…
Pain.
Roxas flinched, let out a small, involuntary gasp as it sliced through his head like a blade; pain like nothing Axel had inflicted on him, pain that cut through every thought and feeling without hesitation and left them to become dust. His head, oh Lord, his head! He balled in on himself, knees up to his chest, free arm wrapped around his neck with his fingers curled like talons over the sweep of his skull. Tears sprang to his eyes, unshed but automatic, gaze piercing wildly into nothing, and the pain… He was close to crying out from it, mentally scrabbling to escape that which had brought it to life, fleeing from that flicker of awareness that had sparked deep inside, leaving it to wither and wander in the darkness all on its own, because there was too much pain down there!
He was torn from the increasingly frenzied sensation by a strobe of lightning so close and blue that it struck the room with blinding illumination, the instantaneous thunder seeming to crack the sky into pieces, deafening Roxas, the power in the room snapping off, plunging him into utter blackness. The silence that followed was slowly filled with the roar of rain, the small sobs of relief that he didn't even know he was making until Axel was bent over him, dripping hot water and shushing him worriedly, holding him close. His voice right next to Roxas' ear, the man murmured, "It's okay, you don't have to be scared, the storm won't hurt you, sweetheart. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm so sorry, Roxas, I'm such an asshole…"
He didn't realise that he had nothing to do with it, that Roxas was no more afraid of storms than he was of small spiders or dandelions. Axel didn't understand that the reason he was crying was because the pain was gone, as if it had been startled off by the crashing noise, and if he'd thought he'd been grateful over having his handcuffs removed, that emotion was nothing but a drop in the ocean compared to what consumed him now.
The world had dulled a little at its edges, had taken on a thin haze of grey. Roxas couldn't fight, didn't have the energy to, as Axel released him from the table and instead handcuffed the blond to himself, before carrying his suddenly slack body over to the bed. Carefully, carefully, he lay the boy down on the mattress, smoothing out the comforter beneath him, leaning over and gazing hard into his face, bewilderment on his narrow features as Roxas stared glassily back. One soft hand rose up to touch the side of the blond's face, Roxas flinching back, Axel's fingers curling in onto his palm with disappointment. The man settled beside him, watching him achingly in the darkness, Roxas eventually turning onto his side so that he didn't have to glimpse the reflection of lightning against eyes whenever it flashed over the heavens. He felt tired, oh, so tired, drained of energy and life and motivation, but somehow he was too afraid to close his eyes, and again, it had nothing to do with Axel.
Roxas was feeling watched, feeling stalked, hunted, preyed upon, and once upon a time that could have been attributed to Axel's presence in his life, but now he knew that the two were almost mutually exclusive. He couldn't sleep; he wouldn't. He absolutely would not sleep, not even if Axel held his nose and mouth shut, cut off all his oxygen, cut his throat, cut his life short. He wouldn't sleep, even if the man offered him freedom from now until forever in exchange.
If Roxas slept, he would die. How could he have forgotten this?
Throughout that night, Axel held onto him, kept an arm around him at all times, even at the cost of his own chained-up comfort. Water flooded into the room from the outside, an inch of it covering the floor, the deluge lessening at one point but refusing to cease entirely. Axel eventually fell asleep at Roxas' back, rhythmic exhalations fanning his neck. The blond remained awake almost all the way through to dawn, staring blankly into the darkness, before losing the battle so rapidly he hadn't even been aware he was fighting; he was overtaken in the way that lions take down sickly gazelle that didn't even see the end approaching.
It took thirty minutes for Sora to open his eyes, watching the sun rise, through the curtain, through the rain. Axel pulled him unconsciously against his warm chest, but if Sora really concentrated, deluded himself convincingly enough… he could almost pretend that it was Riku. He could imagine that the hand pressed to his hip was softer, less callused, the slight, occasional murmur was smoother and less distinctive, that the reek of alcohol was some kind of vodka or flavoured schnapps…
Really, the only thing getting him through this was the silent promise of, eventually.