AN: Dear Diary,
My baby sister graduated. Huzzah!
My other sister/roommate got spinal reconfigure surgery last week!
My mother is visiting and wont stop cleaning my apartment!
My boyfriend keeps draining away my horny!
And we are moving in a few months...
Anyways, as always, thanks for your patience. I've edited this a billion and one times. I cannot bring myself to make it a billion and two...I can only see squiggles now.
Here's to hoping its poppin'
~StickyD
This pause would have been the opportune moment to let go of Axel, just as he suggested, and simply move on to greener pastures. And a deeper part of me contemplated Hayner and all that I put him through while he was trapped in his pining. But after a week of caring to my wounds under the willow in lonesome, Axel subsequently agreed that his service in cooperating with my addiction was still essential. He was culpable for his pledges, and I exploited this whenever he felt inclined to stray from his word. I should have considered the notion that my obsession was unhealthy. Instead, as always, I leapt at his acceptance. And although I was eager, I was not nearly as happy, pleased—jumping out of my skin with overjoy—that he wanted to continue assisting me with my sexual compulsions, because emotionally I was feeling the exact opposite.
We've accelerated our way to the latter consonants in the alphabet, moving from the Fs to the Ss. It was milder, and I simply referred to it as the two S's: sex and studying. I joined him around my house, seemingly kissing the ground he walked on, and endeavored to lure the man into innocent conversation with my tried-and-true schemes. He simply neglected me, absorbed in his phone, until he presumed, I would leave him alone if he gave me a medicinal shag. All the while, he would not express his passion; he preserved his oppositions or opinions to himself while delivering delightful bliss to my flesh. He remedied my wounds with his supplicating sex, but then reverted to ignoring me the second his sperm flowed within my insides. His eerie reserve, which perpetually followed our uncouth deeds, impaired my psychology further. My sex addiction was satisfied, but my affliction for the redhead was not. My cerebral cortex was thrashing and howling for him to acknowledge me, and the agony forced me to dowse the distress in old, filthy habits. After the brief bouts of time we spent curled around each other, he was completely uninterested in me, and I demonstrated in the hours that followed, trekking from party to party, orbiting groups, drinking, smoking, and flirting with boys I could not bring myself to slip into the sheets with. My soul contends it has died as a result of its lethal devotion for the redhead, and my body has been swimming through its own personal purgatory, stranded and shedding from the wealth of lust and love for Axel.
Another week passed with us both carrying solemn expressions around the residence, and I could easily glimpse the tempest of expressed anxieties he kept locked away through my mind's eye. My feet moseyed across the house, enclosing him like prey, ensnaring his participation. I had envisioned that his concentration would shift away from his phone and onto me with something less akin to lurid yearning and more casual. I have forgotten hearing his voice; the only way I can perceive it now is through strong puffs of breath and slight groans. He was typically so outspoken in the radiant energy of his commitment to me that it felt cruel that he held back. The disparity between us rose to a universal size each following day. And regardless of his ignorance, I chased him everywhere, incessantly, desperately. When he would seek more food from the market, I was already planted in his passenger seat, all in the brief second, he sought a light overcoat. He would climb in, roll his vibrant pools, and defeatedly throw the car in drive.
I even went so far as to trail him into the restrooms, where his sorrowful visage would flicker into a fleeting scowl before slamming the door, momentarily pausing my hunt. Although I should have been patiently understanding his emotional withdrawal, my impulses were unable to refrain from pursuing the redhead any moment it says fit, in the hopes of sparking off an exchange of thoughts. For him to ease up and tell me what he was deliberating so keenly on. An immoral element within me aspires for sex likewise to his easy company. After all, my soul would gladly accept any fragment of him he was prepared to supply. As foolish as these actions were, my comprehension was not completely clueless, it still recognized that it would hurt my affections much less if I skipped following him around like a beaten dog. Yet, remaining detached of his hip was like me figuratively waving the white flag, it would be granting him license to walk away from whatever little we had. And I have been slowly disclosing to my therapist that I fear I have truly botched our friendship; this arrangement that has been established for five months now, was constantly teetering between tranquil and troublesome. Diz stipulated speaking with my parents to necessitate a replacement. Once again, my reassurance that I favored the current arrangement startled me. However, my basic knowledge of how reality is set to unravel reprimands that this scenario with the redhead will only make peace with my mental disabilities impossible to fix. That the probability of Axel hindering my progress with self-growth was aimed high. Just as my keeper told me could happen weeks ago. Eventually, my conclusion offered to Diz was to review his proposal because, in finality, this was growing ever harder for me to disregard.
The foyer of my evening lit home adopted my current stay, and I gingerly hang my jacket and dump my schoolbag onto the flooring. My orbs dart over the area, scouring for any evidence of the redhead. My nostrils inflate, ventilating a sigh of relief as I discover his signature mug on the end table and a few costly pens scattered around the timber. My view navigates through the remainder of the room, catching on his phone which resides face down, virtually ingested by the firm padding. Scanning the books stacked high on the side table, a gurgle from a faucet running elsewhere within the property alerts me to his existence. His fragrance crosses my senses before the scuffle of his leisurely footfall brings him into sight. My spine jerks, engulfed once more in his ambiguous gaze, his lenses dull and labored on my face. His lips separated, and the beat of my heart soared through my ear canals from anticipating his long-lost voice.
"How was your appointment?" My circulation continued to thump like rapid percussion in my auditory system. His mannerisms were unpretentious, any sentiments meant to injure me beneath his gaze did not surface since I was tangled in a band of static.
I plaster an expression of indifference on my visage, regulating my vocals in a bid to dial out the sense of helplessness. "It was fine."
His corpulent frame approaches with slow, reticent advancements, and my breaths sprint throughout my lungs. When he centered close, it was often to relieve my dependency with a dose of his marvelous medicine. However, it had been weeks since the redhead had approached me immediately as I entered the house, this instant advance towards me has me reeling. The concept usually delighted me. But my mouth, on the other hand, wrinkles into a brief frown. Sex with Axel has been an aspiration come true, ever since the man caught me the first day of my parents agreement, and dragged me out of the mini-mart and drove me home with fierce indignance. It is unfortunate for my body, but there is nothing I would instead prefer in this moment more than devote time simply absorbing each other's narratives and notions.
"I miss you." His utterance is so withdrawn, scarcely audible, that my cognition almost misses the confession. This was an auspicious blessing. He is so near; his breath smells of his gum, and the floral scent of our hand soap coupled with his fabric softener unwinds my nerves. While my consciousness metabolizes the contents of his simple admission, my subconscious spirals, consuming itself in his appearance. My gaze roves over his anatomy, resting on a minor gash perforating his full lower lip. "Are you going to say anything? Your reticence always makes me uneasy."
"Reciten—speak English, Axel." The corners of his mouth flickers succinctly and his stare alights with amusement. My orbs frisk the beautiful warden for underlying nonverbal cues. "I'm just...trying to figure you out."
"There isn't much to figure out." He shrugs, his hand massaging the arc of his bicep, the action charming my heartstrings.
"So…you missed me, that's it?"
"Yea."
"Doubtful," I shoot him a narrowing glance, my lips pinched together, "I've been right here, Axel." I edge closer to him so that he can no longer evade my presence. ''I've been waiting for you—to say something—anything."
"I—"
"But"—my palm divides through the air, deafening out any justification he might have had and allowing me to convey my own concerns—"I've missed you too…I've missed…just hanging out…without sex."
"Most of this has been perplexing—which I expected—but I made a commitment to you. And I've been doing everything I can to sustain it. But...I also promised your parents and broke my word to them," his gaze slips towards his feet, "ignoring you...that doesn't quite align with what they envision of me. I struggle with abandoning obligations."
His concession did not meet my expectations, and it bordered on an apology, which proved to be inconceivable for him to ever create; he had to be perfect all the time, and I am not sure he understands this minor aspect about himself, but I was not going to reveal this facet now. Not when hearing him speak his truth has my adrenaline buzzing, thrilled beyond comprehension.
"Let's just go where the wind leads us... wherever we land, that will be enough." He concludes, and I am purely content to hearing his voice.
He collects my belongings and proceeds over to the couch, urging me to review my courses with him just as we always do. This time, we switched directions, comfortable with brushing up on anecdotes of the time we have missed. I omit the details concerning me sneaking out, though I have a vague hunch he already knew. Nevertheless, we kept the discussion rolling. He expressed an interest in my development with Diz, and I mentioned that via my college search, I was getting closer to revealing to the specialist my concepts for a potential career, anticipating that he could lend guidance and perhaps concur that it was an appropriate path to continue exploring.
"I'm eager to see if he reflects your skepticism about me helping other children."
"Now, Roxas, don't go sticking words in my mouth." He grumbles. "I never stated you weren't suitable for the role. It complements you, and I feel you'll succeed well...I merely advised that you take small steps first," he flashes me an amiable smile, "regardless, I am exceedingly proud of you. Just focus your efforts towards enhancing yourself first, rather than on improving the world around you. Everything else should fall into its own after that."
"Hah, well I'll bet Diz isn't perfect either, Mr. Know-it-all." I form an inoffensive grimace.
He laughs, the sound healing my wounds more effectively than his kiss ever could. "I'll take that wager."
With the several hours I had spent frolicking throughout the nights, it came as no surprise that my mobile pinged frantically with invitations to various strangers' homes amidst our collective studying. I glanced over my shoulder and found Axel peering at me. And the idea of running out behind my keeper's back had regret gnawing at my flesh. So, I encouraged him to come alongside me, reminiscing the very first time he accosted me in the hall of some manor on the outskirts of bleak farmland, and that exact event inevitably began our aloof and sometimes bumbling friendship. Dismissing the papers, he accepted my suggestion, before recommending that we eat first. We mused about the world and each other's viewpoints while stuffing food into our palates, or rather, while I stuffed food and he ate sensibly across from me at the kitchenette. The very furnishing held as another ornament of our wicked deeds, as we had soiled each other one too many times atop it. As he mused about trivial topics, I fought to scatter the shameless memories that emerged from deep in my subconscious.
Upon leaving, he draped his shoulders in a lavish maroon cardigan, the hue rich against his crisp white turtle neck. The article's length was fluid but skimmed about his angles, ceasing at his athletic thighs dressed in cream slacks. His sneakers were pure white and settled modestly on his ankles, exposing just a patch of boney flesh. The mix of resplendent and neutral tones complimented the tints of his complexion. And compared to my monotonous clothing, he emanated fetchingly. Black leather sneakers, skin-tight charcoal jeans, and a slouch-neck tunic were my chosen apparel for the evening. I accentuated the outfit by layering a hooded, cropped jacket made of leather over my naked arms when he stepped onto the front patio. After bolting the front entrance, we strolled a few blocks away towards the middle of town. It became too late for after work traffic, and the roads were clear aside for the few straggling joggers, and hooligans running amuck.
The dwelling hosting the invite was compact on its exterior and even more so on the inside. We skirted across the house, welcoming and connecting with others our age. When my friends beheld the redhead, they roared in unison. Wakka poured him an indulgent drink, Tidus playfully slapped his shoulder while passing over the fixed beverage. Axel surveyed me, his brow quirking in mute questioning. It declared that we will abide to our previous pact. And it appeared my keeper, on the other hand, had not grasped that our circumstances had been secretly modified since the original deal. And, without his permission, my throat was searing itself with forbidden cocktails. The gathering dispersed shortly after, only for our now-mutual friend Demyx's arrival. The blonde was taken aback to see two of us together. To stay preoccupied, Dem and I shared stories about our daily lives while Axel was busying himself without me. Recently, my private chats with Dem encountered a brief pause over the previous month amid the raging storm that was Axel's ephemeral attention. Nonetheless, he met us both with a beaming jubilance only an angel could rival. To my dismay, Seifer was also in attendance. And whether my warden was present or not, the scarred contender wrestled discreetly with Demyx for my affections, but neither of them comprehended there was little scope for their ambitions when my aura was only evident for the redhead.
My vision propagates haze quickly, and whenever Axel strayed away, swept up in a stranger's discussion, I played my cards on the table. I was mingling with anyone who fostered devious intents for me. Demyx or Seifer, it was irrelevant and my ego gulped it up. Axel, my fiery overseer, frequently made a beeline for my direction, disrupting the moment as he was prone to do. His enmity was visceral, yet he abandoned that jealousy so quickly that it was comical to see him flounder with himself afterwards, escaping the embarrassment by attending to someone else's inebriated wishes. The redhead has found himself wedged into a corner of the living area, loaded with more bodies than should be architecturally feasible, interacting with a handful of his classmates. I am stuffed into an opposing edge, with nowhere to flee, and I can sense his eyes on me; although I cannot optically perceive it, I am encased by the blaze on my flesh that his sight is inflicting, infecting me with his pinpoint diligence. It was the perfect chance to reach out further, to gauge the redhead's patience once more, and the tips of my fingers swirled over the hills of Seifer's arm, starting at his shoulder, coursing along his bicep, and finally teasing his boney wrist. The sandy blonde's pupils broaden and his jaw clenches.
"I've been thinking of you." Seifer admits brusquely.
"Have you?"
"It's difficult not to…with your heavy-handed hits and weakness for cock." He moves in close to me, whispering.
"Gee, you sure know how to woo someone."
"Just speaking my mind." He phases back, sheepishly running a knuckle under the bulb of his nose. His rugged visage softens before he asks, "Do you think we can—"
A woodsy aroma laced with honey diffuses over our exclusive space before I feel him—his torso milling into my spine and his immense hand blanketing my hip—upon his touch, my mental process thinks naught of Seifer's dissolution of thought. Axel retaliates, so near my temple, communicating loud enough for Seifer to hear, and his inhaled air occupies my inner ear.
"Give the poor fellow a chance, Rox." My sitter croons just above the curved surface of my jaw. "Not everyone is skilled at flirting."
"What was that—you have somethin' to say to me?" Seifer's lenses laser into the redhead, while appearing unprepared that anyone heard his profane suggestions. Axel, on the other hand, discounts him and centers his energies on me.
"Shame on you, Roxy," the redhead murmurs idly, "have you been drinking?" Axel's arm revolves round my waist, his hand seeks to pry my cup from my unsteady grasp, and he sniffs its contents. "You broke our bargain. Such conduct calls for punishment." The temperament of his tone is abrasive, yet chock-full of cheeky dismay. When I hear the last word and its associated meaning, my eyes widen, as does Seifer's, and my viewpoint oscillates towards my captor. The redhead migrates his sights from me to Seifer before announcing staunchly, his suave lilt ripping through the atmosphere. "We'll require some privacy," Seifer remains captive by his glare, a potent shimmer preceding the prior intoxicated lull within the green hue of his orbs, "You understand as much, yea?"
Axel does not loiter long enough for Seifer's response; he drops my beverage onto the ornamental table, bordering the foundation, and evasively whisks me away from the paralyzed blonde, placing his grasp flush on the slope of my lower spine. His exchange possessed countless implications. His glances and movements were borderline possessive all evening. Meanwhile, the details disoriented the blonde and I, but we left Seifer to solve the riddle on his own. Axel inspects the congested area, while parting a forum for the two of us using only an unimpeded stretched forearm. His thumb strokes delicate circles where my dimples fit beneath the lightweight material of my black tunic, signaling little shivers to erupt along my pores. We round an abrupt bend in the desolate corridor, and he wrenches a door from its hinges, launching me into an empty chamber with such force that I erratically await a reprimand from my keeper.
Upon accessing the space, my vision stipulates the location as a private water closet, moderately lighted by an inconspicuous plug that is otherwise clad in shadows. The youths leasing out the space paid little attention to the room, which had scant furnishings; perhaps they feel its purpose is to relieve their bladders, not to exhibit private art. My steps whirl around the room, startled by the daunting man close behind. My footfalls cautiously sidestep before wheeling towards the cabinets. As Axel flips a switch, my back is to the mirror. The hanging bulb flickers momentarily before brightening the compact vicinity in a charming, pleasant glow. My pupils jump around the room, glancing from the blank walls, the chipping paint on the door, and the lone shelf with towels and spray aerosols. My awareness flips to the man, and an impetuous bitter scowl pastes across my features, bracing for an altercation with the man's egoistic morality.
"Bravo, Rox," he pauses to applaud gently for dramatic impact, and my cheeks droop into a deeper scowl, "That was quite the performance." My gaze travels to the sealed door behind him, and dampness encourages the hairs on my forehead to bind together. My cloudy vision was constructing itself, although futile. We are now alone, confined to the vibrations and revelry echoing behind the locked threshold. He boots his foot up onto the wooden opening across from me and folds his arms behind him. My blood pressure intensifies when I overhear him lock the door. His chin is angled slightly higher, and he examines me through lids that are dusty. "Was this another bizarre act of yours, hm?"
"Nope." On the p, my lips pop. Even though he has cornered me, visible by my standing, I am monitoring him with the same scrutiny. As I bore holes into my keeper, my fingers seize the marble counter, my nails hack into the surface, and my lower back cramps against the furniture. "It's no longer worth acting with you. You always see right through me."
There's no use correcting him.
He's right.
And, fuck, I hate that he knows me so well.
His gaze creeps along my figure, from my eyes to my burning pout, the hammering in my throat, the faint influx in my lungs, my shuddering abdomen, and my twitching knees. I strive to retain my apprehensive appearance within custody as he investigates me with the most captivating stare. However, the booze will not permit it, and my couth demeanor shifts in tandem with the liquifying of my skeletal structure. The ferocity in his gaze swarms like magma, and the track of his appraisal bleeds a scorching warmth along its path. My elbows jerk as he suddenly kicks off the door and charges across the four-foot space, however he just as hastily stops, his feet securely anchor him an arm's length in front of me. Cautiously, his upper torso dips forward so that his breath may tickle my top lip, and my balance recoils, establishing an insignificant distance between us. He braces himself by propping his palms on the counter, confining me between his arms. "You wanted my undivided attention, huh?"
"Always." I whisper.
My entire frame needles when he emits a warning growl. "There are other ways."
"Liar," I choke out, "this is the only way."
His feet navigate closer, and the sweltering warmth of his torso swallows me as he brushes his supple muscles into mine, snuffing out all possibility of retreat. Although the idea of leaving is illogical, my brain knows for certain that it would never act on it. After all, this is precisely what I envisioned from him. "Acting sleazy won't win you any favors." His awareness gravitates to my imprisoned lower lip, which is being gripped between my teeth, and his tongue swings over his own canines before proclaiming, "Not with me."
"The last few months have rendered that claim to be a big, fat lie." I smirk, and he squints when he spots my pompous grin.
"Such a wicked little sprite." He deflects my counter, huffing out his rebuttal with such illicit tones that my toes contract. His assertion was intended to cause harm, but we both know it just fuels my childlike temper.
"You love it." I purr, and the conflict he is having within his thoughts gives him a look of tempting anguish. He shifts in closer, his tongue raking at the droplet of sweat pestering the edge of my jawline.
"No," he groans into my neck, "I hate it," and the vibrations cause my shoulders to shudder.
"Liar." I rasped, my grip on the counter merciless. His voice, fragrance, and proximity cause my nipples to cut into the smooth fabric of my limp shirt.
"You may relish in being punished, little heathen," he affirms, "but..." His whisper has stimulating overtones, and he compassionately kisses my jaw before muttering into my skin. "…I assure you, this time, you won't be satisfied with my intentions."
"Try me, pretty boy."
When I expose him, he immediately snatches at the tuffs of hair around the socket of my skull, leading my face towards the ceiling's surface so I can count every scrape of paint while he sucks at the artery pulsating along the flesh. My cheeks are flushed from the drink and his attention. A single hand assaults my chest, tweaking my pert nipple through my shirt. He gropes me all over, his mouth and fingertips hounding my flesh. He deliberately skirts my lips, and they part to implore him with lust-filled demands.
"Kiss me, damnit." He continues to caress me with his kisses, trailing along my temple to my ear, jaw, and jugular, prompting my vocal cords to collapse on an uneasy whimper. "Fuck—hah—so cruel."
"Oh, Rox," he chuckles with a vengeful timbre, "you'll discover soon how cruel I can be." His fingers are crawling under my shirt, gripping and massaging my flesh. He grinds his tempered arousal against my hip and releases a low, heady grunt, and the small sound travels instantly between my thighs. The palm that was sculpting my cheek draws to the pinnacle of my spine, hooking me so that my arms can weave around his figure. My hands tangle with his shirt, straining at the fabric and clutching at his muscle and bone structure, leveraging him more profoundly into me so that I may become submerged in his body temperature and scent. In need, my entire being wriggles wildly beneath his clutches. "You have no notion of how I would like to punish you," he grumbles along my temple, "and it would be equally cruel of me to carry on encouraging your senseless little ploys."
"You're all talk." I huff, and he groans in aggravation. His fists secure along the apex of my waist, and he quickly rotates my shape around in one disorienting sweep. I safeguard myself from toppling forward by hurling my palms out to catch my center of gravity on the rectangular mirror. One enormous hand eases itself off my side and collects my wrists, tethering them above our reflected faces. My nerves are jangling; my chest flutters, my throat wobbles, and my intellect is unable to discern if it is from elation or trepidation. I proceed to press the man, who is still intimidatingly stationed behind me, while holding back my fear. "You're just a tease."
"Have I not proven to you otherwise?" He sighs.
His additional hand glides along every bony prominence of my spine and then up to the dip in my shoulder blades, providing weight and incrementally folding my shape for him. I climb up on my tiptoes and grind my ass into the stitching of his pants. His bulge was prominent against the crease of my ass, and he groaned in response to the abrupt force. In the mirror, our vision latches, and I assess my position underneath him once more. My hips shift in a thorough, enchanting cadence. His lower lip folds into his teeth, his interest drifts to my deeds below at his waistband, and his throat bobs at the sight. My vertebrae cramps from the waves my hips are slinging towards him, yet myriad plumes of pants from behind me act as a goading chorus to my efforts, making my own cock pulse with impatience. His erection is inevitably turbulent, rebounding at his zipper, and drumming enthusiastically into my sensuous choreography.
"I have such a poor memory," I cast him a diabolical smirk, "show me again, pretty boy?" His lips twist effortlessly into a toothy grin and his brow jerks before he gravitates in closer. His face looms beyond my temple, and the immoral expression on his features has me figuratively foaming at the mouth.
"Ah-hah, are you fishing me for proof?" his grip tightens, almost chafing my flesh, "don't fret; you'll ache so sweetly that I'll have you pleading for me."
His incisors scrape the tip of my ear, his vow steeped in libidinous depravity. His hand lingers upon my pelvis, tweaking it so that my spine curves crudely for him. I observe his reflection, his applaud to my submission laid out for him, as he straightens his own position. His gaze drapes back and forth, tracking his palm; the touch moves in a mesmerizing route over my spine, eventually stopping at the hem of my slack shirt to tug the fabric over the incline of my ass. His forearm wanders my side, lowering modestly, thereby extracting me from my pants effortlessly. He mindfully unbuttons my jeans, his fingers pairing through my lapel, and robs my legs of their garments. From his mannerisms to the precise whereabouts of our secret rendezvous, everything about the situation feels humbling. My legs pulse in anticipation as he boots down the fabrics to the ceramic tile. In the mirror, I spy him through my unruly bangs and whirling vision, and he is zealously admiring my exposed backside, the flesh fully on display for him.
"What were you planning?" he pauses, his knee nudging my thighs wider, and hums contentedly, "Did you want me to take you roughly, there and then, for him to witness? Or were you intending to pull that scumbag into another closet?"
"I like to keep…my options open." I murmur, my breath snagging as his hand taunts me, rubbing my thigh and lightly smacking the muscle.
He squeezes the crease where my cheek meets my leg, and my appearance morphs into something avaricious and hungry without my knowledge. He cups the mound, pulling and lifting the delicate flesh at intervals, while nevertheless proactively keeping vigilant tabs on his provocative antics. Said actions appear nefarious and my lips part in an obnoxious whine. From the sound, his interest veered away from his manipulating, and gravitated towards my reflection in the mirror. He slips back onto one foot, the other remaining involved in my attire on the ground, and he without caution pats my rear. His fixed gaze is obscured by anomalous motives, and my brow furrows in intrigue.
"You're lying to yourself now, too?" He sighs aghast, obliquely shaking his head from side to side.
"I'm n—"
"Have you forgotten that I witnessed the two of you on a number of occasions?" He humorously remarks. "I know you won't be content with what he offers you." He sucks his bottom lip and his focus drops to my ass. As another rumbling boom stems from the house speakers, he elevates a rigid palm into the air, striking it decisively into my flesh, driving my vertebrae to collapse and my perceptual faculties to spring into frenzy. Another blistering smack on my flesh, and my pores bristle as I cannot contain a distressed shriek. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you, little imp."
So hot.
But, so damn arrogant.
The recompense is fierce, and my cock clambers between my open thighs. He spanks me relentlessly, bruising and gratifying me with violet sweeps and adverse critiques. My moral compass is piqued by the prospect that we might have ventured too far. The dichotomy between us has been distorted, and I should not be savoring this treatment, but we have been here before; this was not unfamiliar terrain for either of us to delve into. The agony quickly deteriorated into pleasure, and in my subconscious, this retribution is quite ironic. His palm connects with tissue that, even though I cannot perceive it, I am aware is vivid crimson. His handprint has bonded to my cheek, forming a puffy monolith of our twisted essence. His criticisms are concise and derogatory, however not in the fashion that cheap erotica is likely to indicate.
"I'm wondering if this is even a punishment. You're having far too much…fun."
"M-mhmnn."
"Hah, how shameful." He murmurs while delivering another moralizing slap, physically as well as psychologically castigating me, and my cock drips ceaselessly onto my clustered apparel below.
"Y-yes." I choke, another batter to my plagued skin eliciting a sob. "S-so...ahhh—"
"You come across as confident, but I know it is merely conceit." His hand impacts once more, rippling my flesh, and the acute pain causes my fingers to buckle into fists. As we struggle towards each other for more, our stance on the mirror slinks lower. "It's as though all your actions are designed to make me notice you."
Fuck! Please stop examining me in this manner.
He grunts under the exertion of yet another spank. Faced with such excruciating discomfort, my lids pinch shut, and my protests emerged forth from the back of my throat. "No-no...you're wrong—"
He carefully massages my beating flesh while cooing into my ear, "Reassure that I see you far better than anyone else."
He has never devoted this much time on this sort of foreplay before, and I am stuck contemplating whether my mind and body can navigate through it. My words transform into belligerent appeals, of which only Axel can extract from my innermost being time and time again. "I need it…I need your dick."
"Not a chance. I don't play with naughty boys."
"I w-want—ahhh—want it." My love-drunk mentality, and perhaps literal intoxication, has launched an extensive tantrum as a consequence of his detour from my pleasure. "I wan' it! I wan' it! I wan' it!"
"Rox," he laughs, a true big chested laugh, "what are you—five?"
Ugh. I'm acting so pathetic. But I need him.
I need more.
"P-please, Axel!"
"No joy. Not when you choose to act so troublesome on purpose."
"Ax—"
"And you do so, all the time…endlessly…without reason. You're just a sinful"—slap—"naughty"—slap—"pretty"—slap—"God, so pretty"—slap—"little thing."
"Y-yes…hahh—yesyesyes—hgnn…I-I'm such a dirty boy!"
His lips lay a chaste kiss to my sweat-soaked nape, and he buffs a palm along the sensitive flesh of my behind, transmitting a wave of numbing pain to wash over. Moisture blankets both of our foreheads, and our breasts heave in tandem for oxygen. He draws my throbbing skin apart, then sinks back so he can observe me, and my hole twitches shamelessly for him. His orbs raise at my own hazy perusal in the mirror, and he cocks a confident smile. "I think it's about time I speed things up," one of his brow's cranes, "we can't have anyone walking in on us."
The significance of his remark was not overlooked by me; Axel had traipsed in on me thoroughly impure at multiple instances, notably once at a party. And this was the resurrection of the moment we shared then. My adrenaline peaks at the opportunity of attaining what it had coveted after each slap to my backside—achieving the target of my pious prayers. My stomach twists as he licks the palm of his hand, amplifying the motion with sinister intents. He runs his glistening palm within the gap between my drumming globes. He penetrates the tip of one of his fingers, and my rim quivers around his knuckle, causing him to hum. The soft sound works as an indicator of my acceptance. Suddenly then, I howl as the intruder jolts forth, instantly breaching into the cushy padding of my lining. His finger curls and rubs within my contours, driving open my inner tissues. My hole stiffens around the long digit, sucking his knuckles, and he rocks backwards on his heel, finding his attention attuned to the vulgar ambulation. His jaw unlocks and he spits over my opening, without ceasing his arduous manipulations. He pushes and pulls in conjunction with me, brutal friction dissolving my barriers. My insides flared open and swallowed his digit. Abruptly, I feel another coarse pad press at my now slickening taut ring, and I watch as my visage becomes marred with immodest indulgence. My lips are pouty and my gaze is dim, low-lidded, and entranced on him. He shoves both appendages within, geared for the farthest they can extend all at once. And as the substantial elastic stretch of my hole splits, an electric combustion emits along my thighs.
"You see, Rox, you're dwelling on only improper things." He chuckles, the tips of his fingers touring the recesses of their intimate union. "Even when it appears you're on the right track, you flash me this look—deliberately putting me on edge—always imploring. You're quite brazen."
"Nooo—"
"Don't lie. You have a filthy preoccupation—such a confident air about you—until it's time for me to fulfill my end of the deal."
"Wh—"
"It's always 'My way or the highway' with you, but when I touch you, it becomes..."
"Jerk—"
"...'Fuck me, Axel…ohhh, fuck me, please'." He moans with impunity, the sound pornographic, and despite his insulting imitation, the noise is bizarrely rewarding to my sensibilities. Every hair on my skin springs up in response, mixed with catching the slurs that the redhead rarely dares to utter. "That's what your not-so covert gazes convey to me," he coos, "'Stick your dick into my filthy little hole'." My ass puckers around his probing digits and I moan. He concludes in a patronizing tone, "'I'm so needy, Axel'."
"Quit it." My voice is small, warbled, and dry.
"But it's a little pathetic, isn't it? Catching you go from selfishly confident to vulnerable from merely my gaze." His typically reserved attentiveness was verging on harsh. But I relish it. I love it when he fills me up. I want him to possess me with his tongue, fingers, and cock. "But... you're so talented at this game...and you're so cute...I can't say no," he hisses, "and, without a doubt, no one else can either."
Fuck I need his dick. Such an alarming and compelling dick.
It's tragic that he has to be rude about every aspect of my personality.
"So…fucking…mean."
As he capitalizes in tighter from behind, his palm unravels around my wrist, nevertheless my hands remain to secure a sense of balance. His chest presses against my expanding ribcage, and his stature swallows me completely. His hand flows through my hair to palm my cheek, his touch tugs on the lobe of my ear, and he beams at me. His arm slithers to my side, snaking along my sternum till its grasp attains my throat. I could consume one strong gulp of oxygen, steeling myself for his diabolical behaviors, completely cognizant of his schemes to deprive me of vitality and suppress my imminent blubbering. His grasp on the undulating knob beneath my chin is rigid, condensing the trunk. His elbow bears the dip of my sternum, and he propels us both backwards, my knees bashing against the cabinet doors and my pelvis burrowing into the perimeter of the countertop. In the mirror, I analyze both his and my own features. I am crazy with pleasure, and he is mesmerized by it.
"Did you want him to touch you?" His fingers embark precisely in and out of me, and obscenely fleshy sounds reach my ears from below. "Did you want to be sunk into like some cheap cock sleeve?"
"Oh God…ngnn…please, Axel, fuck me." I retort through choked gasps, completely disregarding his disparaging evaluation; I reject the reality that he was accurate that I dissolve for him so readily, nevertheless I could not stop begging for him. Pleading. I perform precisely as he said I do. "I need…your dick in me."
"Ah, what did I just say?" He asks with a smug guffaw. "Listen, Rox, you can beg all you'd like, but it won't accomplish anything for you."
This absolute tool. What switch did I flip?
There have only been a few incidents when the redhead has lashed out with a contemptuous disposition in this fashion. As a child, he would do anything to please people around him. He would assist his parents with fundraisers for the church, tutor local children for the elementary, as well as steer me away from problematic crowds. As a man, he was even more debonair and developed into a sophisticated community servant. Just this evening, I noted this man assist an old woman in crossing the street; the situation was identical to that of a cheesy sitcom. And before then, he returned a soccer ball to a few youngsters playing in their lawn; he even went so far as to impart with them a few techniques, booting and bowling the ball in their yard as I remained on the curb stunned by his radiance. His altruistic nature never appears to be an inconvenience to him, and it was his forbearance and determination to placate others that had me in disarray in this moment. It was so uncharacteristic to capture this sort of fire in his gaze—this stone-walled look that stumbles into something resembling impatience—and I was the only one to bear its oppressive elements. I nicked my finger with a blade while preparing the salad for our dinner, to which he immediately wrapped the wound and afterwards forbade me from holding the knife. His fervent concern was juxtaposed to this seldom seen glimpse of aggravation, which caused my heart to rejoice and my mind to repeatedly dwell on the redhead. The venom underneath his chiding became evident to me despite his charming façade. This double identity of his that belonged solely to me was disparaging, and I reveled in every second like some corrupted pervert.
"Please…ahhh…stop fucking around—I want it…ngnn…so badly."
"Hmm, ever so desperate, Rox"—he licks my ear, nibbles my lobe, brings it into his sharp teeth—"Perhaps, if you weren't so childish all the time, I'd feel naturally inclined to appease your greedy body."
His index finger reaches past my parted lips, and my tongue instantly folds on its sides to hug the appendage. His extended grip is so vast, it webs along my neck, jaw, and cheeks. His lengthy finger causes me to gag on my howling moans.
"'iss…ouff." I cough.
"Piss off? Ohhh, there's that vicious passion I'm accustomed to," he chuckles, "does the truth bother you that much?"
"'ou're…hngn…in'upherable."
"Tch. Insufferable? I see you're still interested in lying. That isn't an efficient way for earning what you want." He grins against my jaw while leisurely releasing my mouth.
My shoulders untense, and I mutter, "'M sorry."
"What was that?" His lengthy appendages nudge at my sweet spot again and I bare my teeth.
"I'm—ahhh—sorry!"
"Is that an apology?" he gasps dramatically, "well, consider me astonished." His sordid operations come to a pause, and it felt like breathing after being stripped of life in the ocean. "If you're searching for my usual accolades, you'll be gravely disillusioned."
"Please! I wanna—"
"Oh, no—I'm not here for the sake of your pleasure—I'm here merely to make you endure." He persists his splendid practice of unremittingly encouraging me over the brink with only his proficient fingertips; however, anytime I feel my come on the verge of escape, he utterly abandons his fingers from my pulsating insides and meticulously awaits, depriving me of that marvelous bliss I crave perpetually.
"I need more. P-please." His abhorrent conducts have confined me to a groveling heap.
"Such a mess…this look on you is tantilizing…and so provocative." He chews on his inner lip, his orbs hypnotizing my entire being. "Is that your method of seduction?"
"Please," I pant, "Axel."
"Ah, all right, because who am I to deny you?" He abruptly guides his hand for my face, suddenly crushing my cheek against the icy counter top, the other seizing my pelvis, displaying my hole to the brisk environment. He mercilessly impales my feeble core, inspiring the walls further apart with two additional digits. "Better?"
"Uh-huh! L-like that—like that—just like that!" All four fingers spread my entrance, maneuvering inward with such tenacity that I am convinced he meant to fist me. My muscles are spasming at the foul image merged with his govern plumbs into my malleable passageways. My limbs spasm and my neck slants to let forth a husky cry. My cock pours few dribbles of cum as he stimulates the tender nerves nestled within. The creamy liquid employs the redhead's attention to detail, and he flees his insertions, rendering only my slackening rim to entertain himself with. "N-no…fuck! Let me come—please!"
As he peers at my exceedingly debauched expressions, his brow twitches and his head pivots over his shoulder. He slowly delves into my quivering walls, his own saliva dressing his fingers and spilling along my inner thighs. "That's it, Rox, melt for me."
My hips buck into the intruders, his nails graze my skin, before invading my eager insides with equal vitriol. My core cringes repeatedly, a liquid inferno within me roaring. "God—fuck—need more…"
He purrs, "Mmm, like music to my ears."
"Uhhn, God…f-fuck yes! I l-like that, Ax. Just a little more…please…" I moan, and my cock leaps against my stomach and the counter, oozing fluids that make all surfaces as slick as my hole. My walls devour his uncompromising hammering as I ride his fingers. "I want you—ahgn—inside of me!" My high-pitched wail becomes a famished whimper. "I need you."
"Keep pleading for me, Rox. Feed my ego." He croons, diving directly for my swelling tissues. "The very one that you curse so often."
This treatment is not sufficient. I need him. I need his cock. I am reaching the precipice of eruption again, weeping, and thank heavens the music is drowning out my wailing. My eyes itch with intrusive tears, the moisture threatening to complete the picture of a boy in chaos. My cock is nearly full, inflated, and discarded, but it is poised to let loose in the time it takes me to catch a single inhalation of oxygen. My toes are numb from mounting closer to orgasm, and my calf muscles cramp from shamelessly emulating his actions with my own.
"So—close…Ax…p-please!"
"Now, Roxas, if I allow you to come," he swiftly snaps his motions free of my clinging insides, and an eerie hollow gnaws within me, "that wouldn't be much of a punishment, would it?"
The invocation of my full surname completes my journey into sobriety, and a frigid shiver dusts along my dermis. The party's octave rises and then sinks again as a brisk breeze bit at my skin. He had left me with a deep thrumming in my chest and a cock that was gushing at will onto the floor of some stranger's house. My body slinks over the miniature shag rug beneath the counter. My insides ached knowing I was alone, and my cock was tingling uncontrollably.
Axel never once made me feel exploited; in fact, it was typically contrary; I took advantage of him and, in consequently, suppressing myself in my blind affection for him. But in this moment, with the stench of cleaning supplies and the reverberations of the festivities rattling through the partitions, my soul felt used. Axel manipulated me to illustrate a point. His truths merited multiple points, at that. And it felt like torture. After an evening of recuperating our bond, this is how the man elected to react to me pestering his reluctance. I smothered down an indistinct rumble of resentment. After all, it was entirely my fault that he snapped the way he had. But he has never left me stranded before; it violated his vow to aid me in conquering my addiction. This opportunity revealed itself to me as an obstacle, an assignment I would never shirk. My tail never tucked between my knees.
Having adjusted my wardrobe and overall image, my strides sail back to the soiree with a revering hunger for vengeance. I go about the dwelling, pondering novel strategies to reduce my warden into a malfunctioning being. He assumes my flirtations with Demyx and Seifer were simply trivial fancies that I refused to act on. There was no alternative than to prove him erroneously for Axel's demand to be correct had to be dethroned. I aimlessly flit across the celebration, now ducking my keeper's shadow and toying with spectators. And at that point, I distinctly recall telling Hayner that he could not revel in me because it proved hollow. He was strong enough to concede and, as a result, abstained from having sex with me. I was no one to pass judgment since I lacked the fortitude; I would not survive without my hands skimming all over the redhead. Axel examines me with an alert gaze and an air of refinement, similar to the one he shared with me beneath the willow trees. But my focus remains steely, on the hunt for the appropriate prey. Someone who is pliable and simple to deploy and discard. Someone comparably inebriated that might take profit of my presumably adverse whim.
AN: Bumbumbuuuuuuummmmm?
!Next week on Dragon Ball Z...!
Seriously though...thanks for waiting...(for more smut?)
Love to love ya'll~ Those who stick around :)
