I'm a horrible person, please don't mind me
Zexion scrambled towards the door, only to be kicked in the chest by Marluxia.
"Oh no no. We've just started. You can't leave yet." He said in a silky voice. "We can invite Dem Dem to play with us as well."
The younger nobody narrowed his eyes up at the flower boy.
"Oh, don't like me talking about number 9?" Zexion tried to lunge up, just to be pushed back down. "He is a fun lay…loud, nothing like you though." Marluxia straddled Zexions lap. "You struggle. Demyx use to, but now he just lies there and takes it." He draped his body across Zexion, holding him down. He licked the lope of his ear and hotly whispered. "You feel a million times better to be buried balls deep then your, 'beloved' Demyx."
The scholar violently shuttered at the unwanted contact. No matter how he tried, he could not move number 11 off of him. The flower boy laughed at the vain effort that Zexion was putting up to push him away, but he soon grew bored of an easy catch.
Zexion tried to get the pink haired Nobody off of him. He tried again and again throughout the night. Each new physical contact that he was subjected to brought the beginning of tears to his eyes. Which he blinked away. He wouldn't cry in front of the bastard, he'd never show him his weakness, though he knew it was quite evident on his face.
The memory of that night became one of which that he stored on the back of his mind, along with every other time. Though, the feeling of Marluxia plunging into him, not once but four times that morning without any type of lube, reminded him of the soreness that he could still feel. But that's the way the Nobody like it, to see the pain written on his victims face. He loved to see them shed beads of tears. Zexion was a tough one to make cry. Twice he could see the salty water gather around his eyes, and twice he watched the younger Nobody mask his pain with hatred.
After Marluxia seemed to be done with Zexion he left him tied to the bedpost and strutted to bathroom connected to his room. Zexion had let out a sigh of relief. Tied up and exposed, he still would have time to compose himself while the flower boy showered. But of course that was just too much to hope for, only a minute later he came back to uncuffed and dragged the Nobody to the shower.
Zexion escaped the dreaded room, only moments after Muluxia grabbed his ass and whispered words that Zexion never wanted to hear from the flower boy.
Alone and still wet from the earlier shower, the slate haired nobody slid down the wall of the hall way to his room. He didn't want to see his reflection. He didn't want to see the discoloration that had been left from Muluxia. He wanted no reminder of the previous events that happened earlier this morning, but a film was playing in his head. Being thrown on the bed, handcuffed, Marluxia trying to use heated words to arouse him, being penetrated…the silent movie played in his head, over and over.
His anger with the flower boy faded, he became disgusted with himself. His body. He could be forced to the ground so easily, his legs pried apart with even greater ease. He could try to stop Muluxia, and he did. He could try and ignore the touches, which he does. He can try to pretend it didn't happen, which he tries to do every moment. The truth is, he couldn't stop the rapist, the touches seared into his skin, pretending did him no good. Marluxia will find him, and he'll do the same thing he did to him today.
All Zexion wanted was comfort from Demyx, he wanted to be held, as he did last night for the water Nobody. He wanted to cry in front of somebody, to show that he can feel. But with no heart wasn't that impossible? When his face was engulfed in the adorable mullet, he felt his heart swell, he felt warm and…happy? Happiness is an emotion, so surely that's not what he felt. But it had to be! What else could explain the onslaught of 'emotions'? All of the novels he read explained of love and affection, every feeling of 'love' was reliable to the Nobody. He would never be able to describe his feelings for Demyx as an echo of faded memories from his past. Which is why he never touches Demyx in a way that suggested lust or sexually attraction. He would never want to be anything like the rapist. He would hate himself, more then he already did, if he could see reminiscing in his beloved's eyes of Marluxia.
Zexion, knew of one thing he could be sure, was real. Pain. It was always present, from emotionally hurting someone, or creating physical hurt. At a time when, Zexion was unsure about his emotions, about everything he had been told, he always turned to pain. He retrived a tiney, shiny metal blade that he left in his jacket pocket. Pain is eternal, with or without hearts, it can be felt. As Zexion slide the blade across his thighs, in a slow and calculated fashion, he imagined that he was lifting hurt form Demyx's shoulders and was cutting them into pieces, instead of tender flesh.
Pain, hatered, lust, love. All emotions that seem to play a part in thier lives. But without hearts how can this be! Find out next time!