Pedophilia

Disclaimer: See previous chapters - standard disclaimers apply.

Warnings: I feel, at this point, if you've ventured this far into our tragic tale…you're pretty much gonna expect anything - if ever offended, please, do not hesitate to rapidly (and repeatedly, just for good measure) press the back button.

Rating: This particular chapter shall have a higher rating, however, I'm not gonna up the entire story for one select chapter. This is your warning, take it or leave it.

Author's Notes: Whoa snap, kids. So it's gonna a little sexy, a little intense, a little disturbing, a little depressing, and a little sweet. I'm trying to slowly blow yer minds. (And I just want to say: Thank you, so much, for all your kind words. You guys are the reason I write.)

I got your hands up on my chest

"Axel…" Roxas breaths. His heart hammers in his chest, head turning in the direction of his Savior's face - eyes blind to the world around him. He reaches for the knot of the blindfold, but surprisingly strong, slender fingers stop him.

"…keep it on."

Roxas can't tell what the tone in Axle's voice means. It's different in a way that makes his heart pound hard against his ribcage and his hands shake as they return to their pervious position between his knees.

"You drank." Roxas states quietly, after several minutes of silence. One of Axel's hands is still messing with the blond's gelled hair.

"Mm, I did." Axel admits almost bitterly.

"…Why?" The innocence of the question is drown out by the expression Roxas wears -

Axel wants to laugh. Kid, all the alcohol in the world wont help save me from what I'm about to do.

- because both he and Axel know exactly why the redhead chose to drink before coming here.

"That's for you to decide."

Sora sits silently in the warm room - he can already tell that the person who purchased him (for twelve hundred US dollars) is extremely well off if they can afford the Luxury Room, a room of which Sora has only had the privilege of being in very few times.

Tilting his head, the brunette listens intently to the room around him - the sound is subtle, but he can hear his purchaser swirling ice in a glass (probably a glass one-fourth full of scotch) off in the far corner of the room.

"Stand."

The voice sounds familiar, laced with an accent he'd heard earlier. He thinks of Roxas as he stands, wondering if his twin's guess had been as good as his own.

"You truly are a delectable piece, you know that?" The man stands, setting his glass on the table he'd been sitting at. Sora can hear the man's fine Italian leather shoes slide against the plush carpet beneath their feet as he makes his way over.

"I do, Sir." Sora nods, Roxas' words in his ears as he attempts a slight bit of confidence. 'I don't want it, but I let my purchasers think I do. - Sometimes it pays off, other times it backfires.'

"Mmm, of course you do...How could you not?" The man comes to stand before Sora, strong cologne filling the brunette's nostrils. His hand slides along Sora's smooth cheek, coming to pull the knot holding the blindfold. Sora keeps his eyes closed as the black cloth falls to the ground silently. He's learned to not do anything until told - confident or not, he knows his place in this fucked-up world of theirs.

"Come, sit with me." He says, almost kindly in a way that makes Sora half-way wonder if this night might not become a nightmare he relives time and time again somewhere down the road. The brunette nods, following the man onto the plush pillow-top mattress. He's happy to at least be in this room. The room is absolutely lovely - it leads him wonder things like, if one day, when they get out, he'll ever be rich enough to purchase such luxurious items.

"Sora…what an unusual name…" He starts small talk, making his young toy feel at home - feel safe. One of his large hands is placed just behind Sora's back, while the other is slowly rubbing at the thigh closest to him "What does it stand for?"

Sora knows this routine well. The man is into making his child feel comfortable, one of those clients that feels bad for what they are doing, but can't help themselves in the heat of it all. Like a drug addict, they keep coming back for more, regardless of how terrible it is.

"Sky."

"Beautiful." The man whispers, taking Sora's chin between his thumb and forefinger gingerly.

Sometimes Sora convinces himself that he likes this. That he likes when the buyer's treat him gently. It's a privilege, so why shouldn't he enjoy compassion in the midst of so much hatred…?

But when the man's lips meet his in an almost tender kiss, there are no sparks. There is no desire, no need, no want. There is only the empty numbness he feels each and every time someone's lips - (hands, mouth, cock) - are on his. Sometimes it brings tears to Sora's eyes…the thought of potentially never being able to feel for someone the way he should…

…Like a normal boy his age would.

But, like a perfect actor, Sora's arms wrap around the British man's neck, body falling backwards towards the plush bed beneath him - leading the man into the temptation he so desires.

The blow comes without warning, hard and swift to his lower back. Hayner cries out, hands barely catching himself before his face meshes with cold, unforgiving concrete. The man behind him chuckles, a hand swiftly burying itself into the mess of blond atop the young boy's head. With one single yank he has Hayner to his feet and face against the brick wall of the tiny room. The uneven material scrapes at the tender flesh of his cheek, causing him to tear-up involuntarily.

The man wastes no time, Hayner can hear him whacking himself off behind his frightened frame - one of the man's hands still pressing much too hard at Hayner's head, mashing his cheek further and further into the cool brick.

It's completely void of any emotion or concern when the man spreads Hayner's cheeks apart and begins to ram himself in - lightly lubricated with whatever spit he felt the need to apply.

Hayner hates himself when his vocal cords betray him - voice echoing in pain against the walls. The man grunts, adjusts his positioning and continues - balls deep and pounding feverishly between tanned quivering skin. "Fucking tight little whore." He slurs.

"Shut the fuck up you mother fuc-" Hayner is cut off with a fist to the ribs, his body doubling over as a cough escapes his throat.

"I could tell you'd be perfect for me. There's a fighting gleam to your eye none of the other's have…" He grabs the blond by his shoulder, tossing him backwards towards the pavement. Hayner's skull hit's the ground so hard his vision blurs white - he can't help the tears that fall down his face or the way his hands clutch at the back of his head, body curling into the fetal position without consent.

He hates being weak. God he hates it. He…

"Get up."

Hayner pulls himself into a standing position before the man, bloody hands shaking slightly at his sides. He is not afraid.

No fear. No fear.

No...

"This is exactly why I chose you…" The man laughs and shoves Hayner by the head to his knees before him. "Because you'll do exactly what I want with exactly the right amount of fight."

Hayner glares at the man, leans his head back and spits with a venomous passion on the man's cock.

...God, please.

Grabbing a fistful of Hayner's hair the man arches his body towards the boy with a grin. "Suck it."

Axel stares at the nude boy before him with one-hundred million different thoughts racing through his mind. It would be so easy to take advantage of him right now, to bend him over and take what he rightfully paid for - to watch those blue eyes spill perfect crystalline droplets onto the dirty floor, watch as those bitten nails claw helplessly at whatever is within reach…

But…

Then again…

It would be just as easy to let the boy sleep for the seven hours they have. To discuss an escape. To run gentle, caring fingers through the boy's hair as he dreams peacefully of home, school, sports, normalcy…

"What do you mean, exactly?" Roxas treads lightly, careful to not make assumptions. He's come to the conclusion that Axel may be his only living, breathing hope of survival and - dear fucking God, please - escape.

"Roxas…" Axel cups the boy's chin gently, bringing their faces level with one another. Roxas can't see the man before him, but that doesn't stop his vision being invaded with the greenest of greens. "What do you want me to do?"

Roxas contemplates this for a long while. For once, he wants it. And it's terrible, really. The fact that he wants to give himself up to the one person promising safety, security…yet, maybe that's what was driving him to even consider that option. That, maybe…just maybe…in Axel's arms it wouldn't be as bad. That maybe it would erase the bad with something good - even if it was only just slightly better.

But then, what would that do? Prove to the man before him - his savior - that he really is nothing more than an undeserving whore? That this little whoring adventure he's had to endure for the past two and a half years was finally paying off?

Roxas scoffs aloud, shaking his head. Congratulations, Xemnas. You've fucked up another child from ever having a normal thought process when it comes to love, lust, sex, and life.

"Where is it?"

There's a long silence between them, and Roxas is sure Axel knows what he's referring to. Axel may be new to their whole scene, but there were only two things given from the handlers upon purchase. A condom and…

"You really want it?" Axel's voice holds that concerned tone from earlier, and it almost breaks Roxas' heart for the choice he is trying to make.

"I…kind of need it, regardless." Roxas admits sheepishly. He knows it sounds horrible - fifteen and asking for illegal drugs - but he can't help it. After all, no matter what age -

- drug addictions are a terribly hard thing to break.

"I'm going to lose my badge over this." Axel says with a sigh, but Roxas swears he can hear the smile on the man's lips as a small white pill is pressed into Roxas' warm, open palm.

It's without thought or hesitation that Roxas pops the drug into his mouth - he knows how terrible of a trip it is coming down from ecstasy - it's made him attempt suicide quite a few times - and he'd take the pain of being uncontrollably sensitive to all senses than that kind of depression and sadness any day.

Roxas reaches out blindly, hand trying to feel its way along Axel's chest, trying to get a better impression of where the man is. Axel's fingers lace between Roxas' and lead them up to his cheek, where the redhead leans into the tenderness of the short teen's sun kissed palm. Biting his lip, Roxas' other hand slides from it's place between his knees and up the expanse of Axle's chest, fingers twining themselves in the smooth luxurious silk of that red, red tie. He pulls the man forward until their noses touch; Axle's breathing is ragged and heartbeat erratic -

- he's never felt more terrified.

"What have you done to me, kid?" Axel whispers, voice so quiet Roxas isn't even sure if he heard the man right.

"…Kill the lights."

Mother fuckers best believe it -
That you're fuckin with the best

Goddamnit! Do you guys even know how hard this is to write? It's truly like walking on eggshells.
Faaaaaack. MotherFackin-Fack.

Regardless, there you have it. A short little bit of chapterage for you.
You guys have no idea how much I appreciate ya'll hangin' in here with me - I know I've been terrible, leaving you all to wonder if I'm ever gonna write or update...

I'm sorry!
...I love you?

So, here's the deal: I want your input! Where do you want to see this go? Anything in particular you want to see? Let me know! I am humbly at your disposal.
The idea that peaks my interest most will probably be the one I go with.

Ace*Anomaly