Working for Rox is hard, harder than working for Leon or Cloud, or even trying to do Marluxia's class when the man's forgotten it's illegal to hit them anymore, and has brought the long wooden ruler he likes to thwack calves, shoulders and elbows with, and yet it's difficult in such a different way. It has nothing to do with wanting to be lazy, wanting to be resting and chilled out, rather than working at your peak, and your tutor pushing you further and further, and everything to do with the fact that, for Roxas, Axel is working the skin off his feet, working the flesh off his bones, working far harder than he ever expected to have to. Even more surprising it that it's working, that he's getting better in all his other classes, and Leon's stopped shouting at him about the way he moves his neck, which is a bit of a relief, as he had no idea what he was doing with it in the first place. Axel's beginning to realise that Roxas could be the career starter he needs, could be the push he's always needed but never had, could be that mythical click which all dancers say they get, that moment when they realise that no matter how much it hurts and how far they push, no matter the injuries and the protruding ribs, there is nothing they would rather be doing than dancing, nothing which could make them stop, nothing to put them off attaining their dream. Rox is all of that and more, the gentle pressure of wanting to please, the strong hand of the artistic director, the restrained joy of the choreographer seeing his dream come to life, and every single joy that Axel could ever name, all in one man, one youth, growing into his role and his responsibilities with a beauty which is more breathtaking than the most perfect arabesque. He remembers Roxas nervous and afraid, angry and spitting like a cat, all spikes and angles, keeping everyone at bay for fear of being hurt or ridiculed, and then looks at the man pacing, lazily, next to the stage, shouting corrections and stage directions at thirty dancers, without so much as a look to Leon to ask if it's appropriate – he knows exactly who he is and exactly where he is in his life, and he's happy with it, satisfied; that's where the beauty lies, Axel thinks, in Roxas' satisfaction with his life, his love, and his career. Axel knows what that looks like, because recently, he's seen it every time he braids his hair, every time he smudges concealer over the tattoos, every time he checks the angle of his leg in idevelopé/i - every time he looks in the mirror, that beauty stares back at him. Seeing it reflected on Roxas' face is simply a reminder that the best things are shared, and the best things are chosen.

Ienzo's ankle is healing nicely, and it's only been a month when he comes to practice with a battered pair of pointe shoes in his bag, pulling them out with something close to reverence. They look somewhat better than Axel's, lacking the bloodstains, and this is Axel's second pair of shoes, Roxas buying him another when he said he could no longer watch him dance in shoes more red than pale pink, as it turned his stomach. Axel just hit him gently on the arm and told him how romantic he was until Roxas turned the same colour as the old shoes and told him to shut up. Ienzo laces up his shoes with an eerie grace, and Axel can see why he played the woman for so long – his stature helps, being small and light on his feet, though he's still testing that ankle – but it's got more to do with the way he moves, the twist of a wrist, the extension of a leg, the turn out of a foot.

"You were taught entirely by women." Axel says, at last, watching the kid take a few tottering steps and sag back down into first again, wincing, "Right?"

"That and I've always been fey," Ienzo says, bluntly, adjusting a ribbon before pushing himself back into pointe, grimacing a little less this time, "When you're the gay one, you're an easy pick to play the woman, as you apparently do it all the time anyway."

Axel raises an eyebrow.

"And are you…?"

"Fey, yes, as for the rest," he shrugs, gracefully, pushing into third with barely a murmur, "I wouldn't know, yet. Haven't found the right man. Thought I might have."

Axel catches the glance over to the door, where Roxas is letting himself in quietly, to watch their practice, then looks back at Ienzo.

"Rox? Seriously?"

Ienzo gives him a filthy look before Roxas gets to them, warning him to shut up if he wants the pointe tuition to continue, and Axel gives him a lascivious wink in return.

"Come on, then, we haven't got all night – Axel, are you dancing in the pointe shoes, or are you staring at them until they do a trick?" Roxas asks, voice sharp, mellowed with laughter as Ienzo snorts, wobbling with his extension as Roxas rolls his eyes, "Or are you going to let this little slip of a thing outdance you, hm?" The look he gives Axel is heated, and when the redhead looks back to Ienzo, and the mirror beyond, he's flushed pink, and Ienzo's mouth is in a tight, straight line.

"I don't think he'd struggle to do that if he had the right motivation." Axel says, slyly, and Ienzo drops off pointe before he falls, whirling with ridiculous speed, "Why don't you offer him a kiss for each time he bests me?"

"You are such a – "Ienzo bites off, refusing to say it to the ipremier danseur/i, he's got a career to think of.

"I hardly think it's very professional, do you?" Roxas just says, mildly, and Axel's a little confused that he's not getting more shame or anger, just an eyebrow and a slant of eyes towards Ienzo, who is stalking to his bag, wresting a shoe off, "And besides, I think there's someone else who would rather object to me putting my paws all over our favourite dancer."

Ienzo stops dead, and Axel looks curiously over at Roxas – he hadn't heard the gossip, clearly.

"Now," Roxas says, taking control, "I'll tell you at the end, if you've been good. Walk me through the first minute, slowly, and watch those shoulders don't rise." They comply.

Roxas watches them through the first ten seconds of the dance, then leaves them to it, just keeping an eye on wobbling ankles, and only has to shout 'Down, Axel!' three times before his boyfriend gets the fucking point and stops rising into the extensions for the moment – he's unseated on the blocks and Roxas isn't having another broken ankle on his hands, not right now – although he thinks sometimes Axel just enjoys being given commands which could become sexual. He doesn't question why, but does wonder if it will strain how they work together, because Roxas is not at his most detached when shouting orders, giving hands-on tuition, or simply being able to control Axel, the uncontrollable, unbelievable. He, Roxas, can make Axel do what he wants, and fuck, if that isn't an image to make the mouth water and the body respond, he doesn't know what is. He's thought about it, sure, Axel responding to him in that same way in bed, taking orders and direction, being docile in every way but his mouth and his eyes, swearing and straining, wanting to rebel but knowing the reward for good behaviour will be so much better. Roxas wants, which he's been hiding so well, up until now, but he wants to drag Axel off, right now, and take him to bed, let him do everything he's so clearly asking for in everything but words. They haven't, yet, but he craves it, even when he doesn't quite know what he's craving. He's impatient, wanting to stop the practice and just drag Axel, shoes and everything, and maybe that's what some of it is, too, Axel unbalanced on the pointe shoes, outlined in tights and leotard, hair falling out of the braid after a long day, wispy around his face – he looks vulnerable, in a way Roxas doesn't get to see him, not ever, and that's beautiful, but also so very tempting. Right now, Roxas doesn't want a lover who knows exactly what he wants and will laugh or scoff at any attempt, he wants Axel as his mercy, needing him, begging for him. So he lets the orders fly, knowing what they have done for him before.

"Axel, shoulders." Gets him a stumble, so he thinks about it, and the next few have a purr to them, "Down, Axel. Good. That's it. Good. Arch that back for me, that's it, push forward, let your hips drive the motion, that's better."

Ienzo slips off a shoe and cries out, and Roxas is there, before Axel, catching him, stopping him from putting weight on the side of the foot, proof he was paying attention as much as he was teasing, but Ienzo shrugs him off, and slumps onto the floor.

"Can we finish up so you can tell me who wants me?" he asks, blunt as always, "Because after all that italk/i I need to go and get some. Right now."

Roxas winces, getting what Axel was hinting about earlier, and realising he maybe wasn't just teasing his boyfriend.
"Sorry, that was – "
"Fuck, no, don't be sorry," Ienzo says, face flushed, eyes sparkling, "That's the best we've danced all week, and now I'm going to go and attempt to lose this virginity before it goes stale, just give me the name and let me go offer myself."

Roxas is a little taken aback, but Ienzo's voice is warm, he's happy, not embarrassed, sharing in their teasing rather than feeling like the target of it all.

"You know your third class with me, on the Wednesday, when we do leaps and splits?" he says, head cocked to one side, trying not to look as Axel slides to the floor to stretch out because he wants, he wants, "There's a guy in there – "

"If you tell me it's Even, I'm running off with Ax to fuck him instead." Ienzo says, brightly, "And if it's Xigbar then I'm going to call you a liar."

"Demyx."

Roxas watches as Ienzo's mouth drops a little, he struggles to swallow before he looks up.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"But he's so…." Ienzo closes his mouth and Roxas can almost see him not listing that Demyx is like a bronzed god of dancing, that if Axel is flame, Demyx is the sun, and he's got tanned, broad hands which would dwarf Ienzo, "I really have to go – where the fuck is his room?"

Axel leans over and unlaces Ienzo's other shoe, wraps them both together and slides them into his bag.

"Dem's in 208, about five doors down from me. If we hear screaming, we won't call the police."
"If I don't hear it from you," Ienzo returns, getting up and shrugging a zip-up hoodie on, "Then Marluxia owes me ten bucks."

Roxas laughs at that, and shoos Ienzo out of the door, shouting a cat-call after him, then turns, and Axel's right there, in his space, crowding him.

"I think it's time we took this to bed." He says.