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Name: turntable

Author: CaideSin

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Getting drunk when underage is bad. Smoking weed is illegal. Having sex with little boys is in poor taste. Emotional Complexity, however, is for the win.

Category (Major 3): master/servant, technical-necrophilia, pederasty

Category (Other, Minor): grapefruit, tentacles, rimming, misuse of food, misuse of inanimate objects, mutilation, character death, mild gore, creative location for public sex.

Rating: Mature (haha, duh)

Summary: Turn. Turn. Turn. [AxelRoxas, AxelDemyx]

Notes: If anyone submits Mpreg or Vore I am so totally beat.

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It's the night he gets drunk for his birthday, imbibing until he can't see straight, let alone walk, and he's clinging to the turf so he doesn't fall off the earth. He's lost Kairi and Riku somewhere and, even now, years and years later, not knowing where they are still stirs up a certain kind of panic in his stomach. The grass is shifting and he's trying to summon the keyblade, which hasn't come to him for years; which he hasn't needed for years but...

"Heartless." He whimpers.

A face draws very close to his own, a pale, childish face with bright verdigris eyes and adorable tufts of red hair.

"You're weird," the little boy laughs.

He collapses to the grass, drawing in the heady scent of soil and the fresh smell of green.


Riku and Kairi are coming to save him.

They heft him up in their strong arms and hold him close, neither of them paying any mind to the little boy, who looks so terrifyingly familiar, and Sora has to remember he's a murderer. A filthy, filthy, helpless, weak, pathetic murderer and he should be dead.

"Bye!" the boy calls in a warm voice.

It sends fire shooting through his brain.

"Axel." He whimpers.

"He isn't here, Sora."

The shadows are eating him alive.



He looks up guiltily.

His mother is standing at the top of the stairs. Her thin robe hanging off her shoulders, somehow conveying her simmering anger, and her nightgown drawn tight across her swollen belly.

"Yes, momma?" the little boy asks, not sorry, nor repentant, just hungry.

"You should be in bed."

He doesn't want to say so, but his momma looks really hideous with the baby still inside of her. She seems bloated and disfigured. So, he quietly shuts the door of the refrigerator in order to douse the light.

"I was thirsty," he lies.

She makes an exasperated sound, her inflated feet padding down the stairs to where she can still see his outline, even in the dark. She fills him a glass of water from the sink and then orders him, tersely, to go back to his bed.

"Yes, momma."

"Goodnight, Alex," she snaps in return.

He ascends the staircase, sipping perfunctorily from his cup.

Compared to his own childish form, the door to his room seems monstrous; the surrealism of the quiet ease with which it swings open is a striking prelude, he will always remember it.


The little boy spasms in shock, his glass slipping from his small fingers and falling to the carpet with a silenced thud, his front slowly registers the cold water seeping into his nightshirt.

"Come here, Axel."

It's a pleasant, inviting voice and reminds him very much of the woman with the long hair at the daycare center. But these tones are definitely male, certainly adult.

"Who are you?" he pipes up, his own words seem impossibly high pitched in comparison. It's too dark to see, even with the shades of his window open. He peers curiously into the gloom, but nothing seems to be moving; nothing stirs within the confines of his room. “Where are you?”

The sheets on the bed shift, twisting and twining in on themselves, like so many snakes. There is a flare of moonlight as the light bounces off of white textile. Then Alex can just barely make out the large shape sitting on his tiny bed.

"I'm your friend, Axel."

"That's not my name, yunno."

The figure offers a colorless hand to him and Alex takes it without hesitation, his soft, pudgy fingers entirely dwarfed in that callous palm.

"But doesn't it sound so much cooler?" Whoever he is says as he pulls Alex up onto the bed with him, settling the boy on his knee and hugging him, but not as obnoxiously tight as Alex's uncle usually does.

"Yeah!" Alex agrees with enthusiasm as he tries to twist his body and take a better look at his new friend. However, the man keeps him in place, facing forward, with the kid's back against the solid presence of the stranger's chest. "What's your name? Do you have a cool name?"

He feels a supple cheek press to his own, feels his visitor's tepid breath ghost along his face.

"My name is Roxas."

A cutting, nasal voice wrests its way through the air violently.

"Alex, stop playing and go to bed!"

The boy stares at the doorway where his mother is standing, her overstuffed body outlined in medical gauze-like clothing and the sickly light from the hallway.

Alex turns to gaze up at Roxas, but the man still holds him so he faces the door.

"I'm not playing, momma!" he protests, gesturing towards his new companion. "I'm talking to my friend, Roxas!"

"Tell your imaginary friend that you have to go to bed now, Alex!" his mother repeats, her voice becoming darker, shriller.

"But, momma, he isn't imaginary!"

"Alex! Do not argue with me! Go to bed!"

Roxas' arms tighten affectionately around his waist, leaning them both backwards, pulling the covers up over the child's body.

"Just tell her 'yes', Axel."

Alex looks at him for a moment and then nods. "Yes, momma," he agrees docilely, obediently. Though he sounds petulant in a way that he's too young to overcome just yet.

At length, the door shuts once more; making way for silence and shadows to fills the space between the walls. Roxas is a stalwart, comfortable presence behind him and Alex only tries once more to see his face.

"Your mother can't see me, Axel."

"How come?"

"Because I am yours. Only yours."

Bewitching white skin, aureate hair, and flawlessly cerulean eyes.

"Are you an angel?"

Roxas sniggers, the noise hissing from between his teeth.

"No, Axel, I'm not."



The other boy is a little taller, a little thinner too. Sitting on the sidelines away from everyone else. That's what Alex likes about him.


The boy with his sandy hair and spiky little mullet, sitting on the sidelines, carefully away from the playground. It's the very first day and already he doesn't like the other children, they're too loud, too crass, too static.

"Hi, Alex."

He's staring past the other child's shoulder, up at the blond man whose hand Alex is clutching. Alex cocks his head to the side, it's a peculiar motion he has seen Devyn himself use twice already today.

"What is it?"

"Who is that?"

Roxas is making a strange face. He looks like he's just stepped in dog crap and his usually pretty eyes are narrowed and angry.

"This is Roxas," Alex murmurs in confusion, his body getting stiff. "No one else is supposed to be able to see him but me..."

"Axel," the strange man with the winsome hair says. He sounds like a barking dog. "We should leave Demyx alone."

"But I like Devyn!" Alex protests, his apple-green eyes going wide. He starts clawing at Roxas' entire forearm, clinging as if he just can’t stand it. As if he can't even hold himself up without the man's assistance.

Devyn watches the expression change on Roxas' face, watches as it melts from stormy to something else entirely.

"I'll wait for you at home."


The strange man walks away, disappearing around a corner.


They are never far from the hospital bed, heads bowed, clasping the young man's hands as if to act as anchors, lifelines.

"Visiting hours are over."

She's a new nurse, she doesn't know better.

No one really blames the two of them for snarling at her.

"Miss Argilla, don't mind them."

She stares at the doctor in surprise and then backs away, shoes clicking crisply on the floor.

"Oh, yes sir."


"Momma says you're imaginary."

"I know."

"Devyn doesn't believe me either."

"Demyx has always been stupid."

Alex sits quietly at the head of his bed, watching his strange friend with sharp emerald eyes.

"But he can see you. How come you've never told me why he can see you?"

"It isn't important."

"Liar! I bet you don't even know!”

Roxas gives him an effortlessly dead stare. It's frightening and Alex cringes back against his pillows, hugging his knees to his chest.

"What do you want me to say, Axel?" Roxas asks, his demeanor softening again. He crawls up the bed and envelopes the boy in his arms.

"...I to aren't imaginary..." Alex replies, clinging tightly, he's never really been able to cope with the idea of Roxas leaving. Not after his baby sister was born and his father left, all in one fell swoop.

Roxas is everything. His best friend, his caretaker, when his mother is too busy with his sister--which she always is--his confidant, the person he loves most in the whole entire world.

Roxas sounds really, very, sad as he wonders, "Will that convince you?"

Alex isn't so sure.


The bathroom is broiling and steam collects in diminutive clouds over the bath. The atmosphere is made of beige tiles and spongy toys, crisp clean scents and the pleasant caress of water.

Roxas always sits quietly on the toilet with his legs crossed as Alex takes his bath.


"Yes, Axel?"

The child splashes happily in the water for a moment before looking sheepishly back to his friend.

"How come you never take a bath?"

Roxas smiles, it's the prettiest expression he has, and whenever his face finally splits into a grin, Alex has no choice but to laugh and beam in reciprocation.

"I don't really need to."

"How come?" Soft, childish, all the things that Roxas isn't and sometimes Alex finds it so hard to understand his best friend.

"Do I look dirty?" Roxas chuckles, his eyes sparkling and he's pretty, he's so very pretty. Pretty like his momma used to be before she had another baby and before daddy went away. "Do I smell bad, Axel?"

Roxas is teasing him, Alex likes that. He really likes it when Roxas is happy and laughing and smiling and not being quiet and emotionless and scary.

"Maybe," the boy giggles, sticking out his tongue. He's wordless again, watching the blond in a speculative sort of silence. Until, "But..."

"What is it?"

Alex makes an odd little strangled sound when the man gets up and kneels down at the edge of the tub, grinning indulgently.

"Do're a boy me, right?"

Roxas' face flushes and Alex reaches up a dripping hand to his forehead, as if he will actually be able to tell if his friend has a fever, in spite of the heat of the water and the steam.

"Yes, I am." Roxas answers stiffly, but at least, he doesn't sound angry.

"Momma says...boys always smell bad and always need to be dogs."

"What do you want, Axel?"

Alex hates when Roxas asks him that, because it makes him so confused and nervous and he wishes, sometimes, Roxas would just admit to knowing what he wants already.

"You should take a bath too."

Roxas always wears the same thing, a red shirt underneath a strange leather jacket with zippers all the way up the black sleeves, stopping at the white vest and the line of checker-patterned decorations circling about his shoulders. The jacket is lined with crimson fabric and cinches tightly over his ribs. Over his pectorals there's a claret line and between his shoulder blades there's a strange symbol, which looks to be a throwing star with four points. Roxas wears black jeans with leather chaps over the top and dark boots peaking from beneath them. When they are inside, he takes the boots off and his socks are black too. Roxas wears jewelry as well, a heavy chain with a weird symbol around his neck, a checkered band around his upper-arm, and two rings on his left hand, one around his middle and pointer-finger, white and black, respectively.

Alex doesn't know anyone who dresses like Roxas does, and even though Roxas looks very strange and very adult, he doesn't look bad or stupid. Alex thinks he looks positively awesome, really cool, actually.

But, the point is, he's never seen Roxas without these many layers of clothing. Even in the summer when, by all rights, Roxas should be sweating like a pig under the sun. He's never taken them off.

So, when the blond begins to undo the belt on his jacket...Alex gives a startled gasp.

"I can't get in with my clothes on," Roxas smirks. His smirks aren't as pleasant as his smiles, but Alex thinks they aren't so awful either.

Roxas leaves a pile of clothing on the floor and Alex sort of wonders, if his mother were to enter...would she see them? He doesn't ask Roxas, not when the man is, in fact, exactly as male as he is and climbing into the tub beside him.

The water sloshes and Alex realizes how short his friend is. He sniggers insipidly behind his hand and when Roxas raises one of his delicate eyebrows, Alex tells him all about it.

The blond seems surprised; stunned even, but then a slow look of delight spreads across his face and he draws nearer. He kisses the boy right on the mouth and forcefully shoves his tongue inside and Alex is too confused to even begin contemplating how this shouldn't be happening.

He blushes fiercely; entirely aware, in a wholly visceral way, of the intimate setting he's been thrust into.


"Did you like that, Axel?"


Roxas licks his lips and Alex is reminded, powerfully, terrifyingly, of a wolf. He's really, honestly, afraid of the strange gleam in his friend's dancing blue eyes and...the smile on his face is far from beatific.

"Hmm," the man hums, his whole body surging forward, pinning Alex against the tiles, his calloused hands touching where the redhead has always been told people shouldn't touch.

"No!" the boy cries out.

The smothering glare that Roxas hits him with makes him fall silent, shivering and afraid and shaking. Something about his trepidation seems to break through into his friend's skull. Roxas' teeth appear in some kind of smile, but it's chilling. It's barbed and gleaming like he's going to eat Alex up.

"It's all right, Axel."

"No! No!" Alex whispers. "You're not supposed to!"

Roxas' voice gets so unbelievably soft and tender as he replies. It gives Alex momentary pause. He gapes up, wide-eyed and adoring, at the man. Trying to understand and believe, because he loves Roxas so much. Roxas is his very best friend in the whole wide world.

"This is just you and I, Axel. You're right. No one else should ever touch you this way. No one else should ever kiss you that way. But I belong only to you, remember? It’s all right if I do it."

Alex whimpers and then moans, his quiet treble quivering.

With every.



Of Roxas' hand.




Of Roxas' tongue.


"Alex! You are too old to still be talking to your imaginary friend!"

"Ignore her."

He does.


"She's a bitch, Axel, she doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Alex, are you listening to me?"

"My name is Axel."


"She heard you."

"You heard me."

"How dare you talk to me that way! Go to your room! Just go! I do not have the patience for you any longer!"

He goes, Roxas following after him in a razor-sharp, brooding, silence. He's been that way for a week. Ever since his mother stormed into his room to tell him he wasn't 'right' in the head.

"I swear, Alex!" his mother screams up after him. He slams the door, but can still hear her horrible voice and Chelsey's quiet, happy babbling. "You just are not right sometimes!"

Axel sees it peripherally as Roxas cringes violently, his entire body going stiff and convulsing for a moment. The redhead turns to regard his friend, crossing his arms over his chest and kind of hating the man for acting so childish.

"I don't know why I listened to just got me in trouble." The way Roxas stares at him almost makes him stop, but he's so tired of being controlled by the adults around him. His rebellion cries out, flaring up like wildfire. "You always get me in trouble. What is your problem?"

"My problem?" Roxas repeats, vomiting forth the words rapidly, as if they taste foul. “My problem, my dear, dear, Axel, is that you. Aren’t. Right.”

Axel falters, his hands falling limply to his sides because Roxas is faintly glowing. Not with light, never with light. The aura exuding outward from his body is made of caliginous tendrils, slick and oily and menacing him.

Roxas' snap is audible.

"Roxas?" he squeaks weakly.

"I can fix it...Axel...just, just...hold-hold still! I'll make you right!" Roxas sounds strange. As if he's laughing and crying and hurting and breaking all at once. The...the tentacles of shadows wrap up the boy, his young, lithe body straining against the bondage but finding no purchase whatsoever.

"Roxas! Stop! Are you crazy?!" he manages to gasp before his mouth is filled.

"Maybe. Maybe..." Axel hears the man say, but he has no idea what Roxas is doing. He’s afraid and angry and the darkness is holding him too tightly and one of vines begins to stroke his skin, as if Roxas is trying to placate him for this, but it really isn't effective considering the magnitude of the situation.

Axel makes snarling inarticulate noises at Roxas when the blond finally appears in his line of sight. The sounds quickly turn to sniveling little whimpers as Roxas brandishes a pair of tiny dull scissors before him. His fingers look huge and choked within the small pink and purple handles.

"We have to do this so that it'll be right, Axel. We, we have to...Don't worry...I can. I can do'll be okay."

Roxas' pretty, pretty eyes are wild and gleaming and the shadows are everywhere, touching everything, but they're so cold and Axel shivers and adamantly refuses to cry. He's ready to resist, he's steeled his will, but when Roxas begins to carve into his face the tears run unbidden down his soiled cheek.

The tentacles are touching, stroking and penetrating. Roxas keeps trying to soothe him, but all it does is hurt; all it does is add more pain to the stinging ache in his flesh. And the hot betrayal and the polluted, poison, love running like a current between them.

He knows, it's unquestionable knowledge, that although the glistening, lacquered, tendrils of physical darkness are the most technical violators, it is really Roxas. Roxas is the one in control, crazy and tenuous as it is. This is an injection of wrong and with it neither of them will ever be able to forget.

Finally, it feels like hours later, Roxas lets him. Leaves him bleeding and panting and crying upon the hardwood floor.

Roxas smiles down at him.

"There. Now you're right. Axel...You were always crying, even when you smiled. Now. Now, it's right.”


"It's good to see you again, Alex."


"That isn't your name, you know."

"I don't care. Sounds cooler."

"Alex, please, let's be respectful of each other."


"All right, Axel." She waits for him to say something, but he never does, so she continues herself. "Now, Axel, we've been seeing each other for several months now and I don't feel we've really gotten anywhere. Do you remember why your mother brought you to me?"

Sarah is an attractive young woman, her white skin and dark locks make for sharp, contrasting, lines in her face, which only emphasize the subtle sadness she tries to hide in her eyes. Her eyes are a quiet slate color. She wears stiff suits and square glasses. Keeps her nails short and her heels low and her hair pulled tightly back.

It isn't that Axel dislikes her, it's that he hates this therapy.

He kind of hates Roxas too and is pointedly not looking at his friend. Though, he has yet to stop loving the blond more than words can possibly express. That, however, does not mean he can't hate the psychotic, controlling, adoring, bastard at the same time.

"Do you remember why, Axel?" Sarah repeats in her hushed, placating, way.

"Yeah," he murmurs. The scars on his cheeks are still purple, but eventually, he's been told, they will fade to white scar tissue. He touches one gently and it only tingles a little bit beneath the pad of his finger.

"You still haven't told me why you did it. Why did you *mutilate* yourself?"

Axel chews on his lower lip and, for one, brief, moment, wishes she would call him Alex again. Things made sense when he was Alex, now all he has is,

"I don't know. It wasn't really me."

"Who was it, Axel?"

Roxas stirs from where he's sitting in the windowsill, he begins to come closer, as if he thinks he can somehow help this situation, which, by the way, is all his fault--his *damn* fault.

Axel shoots him an annoyed glare and the man stops in his tracks.

"Axel," he begs.

The redhead won’t answer him. If he did, it would just make Sarah think he's crazier than he is. He isn't crazy, he's certain of that, yet, at the same time...

"I don't know."

Sarah is muted, but, at length, she speaks. Her eyes follow the invisible line of Axel's gaze, the boy's chartreuse eyes are still locked on Roxas' form, which she has no inkling of.

"Your mother has mentioned your friend Roxas." She suggests, tapping her pen several times, impatient, uncomfortable. He looks back at her and his mouth twists into a smile.

"She's a bitch. If anyone needs therapy, it's her. Since Dad left and since Chelsey was born...she's done nothing but take her problems out on me. Roxas is the imaginary friend I had when I was a fucking kid. She's just looking for someone to blame, pretty fucking immature, huh?"

Roxas is grinning like a Cheshire, his teeth glittering out from his silhouette against the window. Axel feels his groin stir almost imperceptibly. He isn't sure what's causing it, or what it is really, or, at least, not exactly.

"Please watch your language, Axel, it isn't very respectful at all."

He smiles at her, just like Roxas is smiling at him.

He watches her shift to cross her legs beneath her desk.

"We done here, doc?"


"Alex Morgan?"

Axel glances up, a fall of stiff carmine hair obscuring his vision for a second. He jerks his head, flinging the mane and unveiling piercing eyes, which mock and dance like willow branches in a squall.

"Axel." He isn't bothered anymore when people get his name wrong, but he loves to act as if it infuriates him. Mostly he loves making people feel ignorant, and loves to watch the bastards squirm like rats in a trap.

The substitute teacher flinches and Devyn snickers around his hand.

"I'm sorry, must have been a typing error...Uhm...Kelly Ness?"

While the poor woman attempts to work away her jitters, Devyn leans over, a thoughtful expression on his thin face.

"I saw Roxas with you this morning, in the hallway."

Axel feels the growl rise in his throat, but somehow stops himself from snapping at his only other friend.


"Why doesn't he come with you to class?"

"Why do you think? School is boring."

Axel has never really been able to forgive Devyn for being able to see Roxas and he's never forgiven Roxas for letting Devyn see him either.

"Yeah, okay. Can we play after school?"

"Not today, my stupid bitch mom has therapy. Me and Chelsey have a babysitter."

He'd learned the word 'bitch' from Roxas when he was seven, but, lately, it feels really good, ungodly, good, as it goes across his tongue. He uses it whenever he can. Even when his mouth gets him into trouble. Especially when it gets him into trouble.

Devyn doesn't speak for a few seconds and they both pretend to listen attentively to the sub as she muddles through the lessons with pathetic ineptitude.

Then he glances back at Axel, his powder-blue eyes glinting curiously.

"Do you still go to therapy?"


"What's it like?"

"Like killing baby birds."

Axel knows that, if Roxas had been there, he would have laughed.

Devyn at least smiles.


Roxas never comes with him when he goes out to hang with Devyn.

Axel is...he's getting over that. It doesn't hurt to be away from his friend as much as it used to. Besides, Devyn is fun. He's awesome at guitar and he can grind on his skates like a pro. Better than a pro.

That's why Axel figures he needs a cooler name than Devyn.

"Demyx. That's what Roxas always calls you."

"Demyx? That's kind of awesome."

Axel grins, it's the sharp, scary, one that he learned from Roxas, but with a few careful modifications. Like the miniscule shift of muscle at the corners of his mouth, which make the scars on his face move until they're stretched over his cheekbones. They look thin and delicate and dagger-like and pretty much just really cool, maybe even badass.

"Yeah, I know."

They're skating through the park, scaring off birds and bothering old woman. Sometimes they toss matches at the garbage cans to see what will catch first, the garbage or the grass.

Demyx moves faster and he's way more graceful, but Axel has a hell of a lot more stamina than him. The blond spins in a tight circle, moving backwards with smooth poise and instinct-born confidence.

"Why doesn't Roxas ever come?"

"He doesn't like you," the redhead sneers. Mostly like it's a joke, because he isn't really certain why Roxas never comes with.

Demyx tilts his head in that atypical way of his. "Why not? I haven't done anythin' to him. I think I talked to him once, in preschool!"

"What am I, a mind reader? How should I know?"

"I guess," Demyx gives in, begrudgingly. He bends his knees, coiling his muscles and then springing up onto the railing alongside the stairs, descending down to the plaza overlooking the lake. He's like an air current.

"Awesome!" Axel crows, dragging to stop and just watching his friend go, all the way along the slope.


He can't really remember a time when he didn't sleep with Roxas and he definitely can't imagine that hot, concrete, presence not being pressed against his back during the night.

That's why he always, absolutely, has to tell Demyx 'No.' when he's invited over to stay the night. Axel isn't sure if he can handle inviting the other boy over to his house either, but that isn't really an issue. His mom always puts the kibosh on that idea.

Stupid bitch.

But Axel's still a little helpless at bedtime. Cause that's when all he wants to do is get in bed and cuddle up to Roxas like a sissy.

Even though, by all rights, Roxas is the girl. Roxas is the cute one, with his big doe-like eyes and perfect creamy skin and hair like aurulent thistles.

"Roxas?" he yawns, burrowing closer, pressing his face to the crook of the man's neck.


Sometimes Axel wonders if Roxas sleeps, cause Roxas has never done a lot of the things normal people do. Like eating, or bathing, or changing clothes, but it never really matters. He never dies of starvation, he never smells, his clothes never get wrinkled and it's never uncomfortable to press against him either. Why should he need to sleep?

“Have you ever had sex?”

Roxas makes a weird sound, Axel thinks he's heard it before, but he's got no idea whatsoever as to what it can possibly mean.

"Yes," Roxas murmurs finally, his lips moving against the redhead’s ear and it feels just fucking great.

The boy blushes a little, but no one is going to notice in the dark. He's curious enough to get over his embarrassment.

"Like...what's it like?"

The man laughs as if he knew it was coming. His teeth catch a glancing ray of light, showing up in that fucking harrowing grin of his. Sometimes Axel has nightmares about it and he's started to wake up with his shorts wet and crusting in the morning.

"Do you want to find out?"

"Huh?" It isn't the most intelligent thing Axel has ever said, but it will do for now.

"I asked you if you wanted to have sex with me, Axel."

"But I...I mom?"

Roxas rolls on top of him and Axel can hard his prick is and his own dick isn't entirely uninterested and he can feel every last inch of Roxas and his scorching body and he can't stop thinking about the few times he'd the balls to ask Roxas to get in the bath with him and how he'd always had to practically hold his breath whenever Roxas started to take his damn clothes off.

"If she comes in here...she won't see me, you know that. She'll just think you're playing with yourself."

Roxas' tongue darts out for one second to lick his lips. It's pink and glistening and Axel grins, he feels Roxas' cock throb in response.

"Yeah. Okay."

He could be brassier about it, but he's pretty sure he's about to get laid, and he's pretty sure that's supposed to be awesome; otherwise people wouldn't give such a shit about sex.

So, it's not very dignified as he takes off his clothes, so what? He does it fast so he can watch Roxas.

Roxas is perched atop his hips and every bit of his skin is illuminated with moonlight as it comes into view and Axel isn't used to being this fucking turned on. He's pretty sure if Roxas' ass brushes his cock, one-more-time, he's going to break into a million horny pieces and...

"Fuck...this is really gay, I can't be gay, Roxas," he protests. It's entirely hollow though because he wants this so badly that he can't think straight and he hates being caught up on the lessons and values his stupid mother has tried to instill with him. Have any of her teachings ever applied before when it comes to Roxas?

The blond smiles down at him, stretches his body like a voluptuous cat. "This is you and I. I already belong to you; I'm a thing, a possession; a companion. There’s nothing gay about me giving you pleasure, is there? Unless you don't want me to?"

"Don't pull your passive-aggressive crap on me!"

"Do you even know what that means, Axel?" Roxas laughs, straining his thighs to push his body upwards in order to work at the catch of his pants, pulling them down and then removing them completely, leather chaps still clinging to the textile.

The sinew in his stomach goes taut as well and Axel is pretty much mesmerized by the shimmer of pale body hair leading down to his groin.

"Shut up," the boy croaks. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he clenches them in the sheets. "Come on, Roxas."

"You are always so impatient."


"Shh," Roxas allays. He pushes all of his clothing off the edge of the bed to land in a heap upon the floor. He begins to remove his few pieces of jewelry, but Axel stops him, grabbing his hands roughly and growling. He doesn't know what is wrong with him, but he's hot and impatient!

"Leave it."

Roxas gives him that soft indulging smile, the one that makes Axel's heart flutter and spasm as if it's being stung by a horrendous swarm of bees.

"All right," and that's all Roxas says before he sticks his own fingers in his mouth and sucks on them, swift and efficient rather than making a show of it.

Then his fingers shine, alluringly sleek in the moonlight, for one second, before he reaches behind himself and tilts back his head, exposing the long, lean, line of his throat and the bob of his Adam's apple. He gives a soft little whine.


"I...I have a couple fingers in my ass Axel...s-stretching makes it easier for both of us..."

"But what does it feel like?" Axel whispers like the inquisitive kid he still is.

"Mmm, ask me again next time," Roxas purrs. His hips are jumping and circling, the muscles and lines in his back look really more beautiful than anything else, even more so his fucking mouth, which is hanging open like someone should stick something in there and thrust.

Roxas' thighs keep brushing against Axel’s cock too, gentle and ghosting and every single time Axel feels the hot little dribbles of liquid from the slit. He isn't sure what that means, not yet, but if there's going to be a next time...he can figure this out, all of it.

When Roxas stops fingering his fucking hole, he sits up on all fours, spreading his knees wider around Axel’s thighs and then reaching for the boy’s growing cock. He strokes it a few times but Axel keens low in his throat, says something vague about hurrying and Roxas smiles, positioning and lowering and hissing and putting his hand over Axel's mouth when the boy practically screams.

He doesn't really want Axel’s mother to interrupt this. Not after he's waited for so long. Not after he sat quiet and insane inside of his Other's body without his own consciousness, only clinging to one idea: reuniting with a pair of green eyes.

"God, yes, Axel." Roxas moans, his thighs quivering with the effort of holding still while letting Axel feel the heat of his body and the clench of his innards.

"It's tight," Axel cries breathily from beneath Roxas' hand. His own fingers move to grip frantically at his friend's hips.

"I know, oh...I know, mmm! Yes!"

And they move clumsily together, Axel's thrusts coming at their own cadence, which isn't a rhythm at all. While Roxas simply moves his hips steadily, letting Axel take what he wants until he feels that burst of fluid inside himself.

He's pleased and a little amused, they sleep in the same bed and he knows Axel hasn't had much experience with the ability to ejaculate, only possessing the capability for a few months, at the most.

The redhead gives a pained sigh as his cock softens and Roxas continues to grip him. His friend pulls off, settling back onto the bed between the boy's knees, panting and still hard and loving the feel of cum slowly dribbling out of his asshole.


He looks up when Axel calls, though he isn't sure what the boy could possibly want now.

"Did you enjoy that, Axel?" he chuckles, desperately not taking himself into his palm. He wants to enjoy the reality of having had Axel inside him for a moment longer.

"Yeah," Axel agrees immediately, but then he shifts up onto his haunches, his fingers ghosting over the blonde’s jaw line. He contemplates something at length, the thoughts parrying back and forth in inflections from his eyes. "Lay back," he orders, his words settled with decision.

Roxas obeys tolerantly, and spreads his legs when Axel nudges them apart.

The boy is still breathing heavily and when his breath tickles across Roxas' inner thighs, he shivers.

His whole body tenses and he gives a faint groan when one of Axel's fingers quests to his rosy and swollen hole, testing the slickness and resistance there.

He presses in, just the tip, feeling the heat there once again, and then he draws away, this time reaching for Roxas' cock, still yet straining up towards his belly.

"It feels good for you too?" He asks, his intonation saying he already knows the answer but having Roxas say it is so much better.

"Yes," the man gasps, bucking into Axel’s hand as if it's a gift he doesn't deserve.

The boy fists him roughly with indelicate, unskilled, hands.

"You're really..." Axel pauses and cants his head in the way he must have picked up from Demyx. "You're really beautiful like this."

"You’ve told me..."

"I have?"

"Yes," Roxas breathes out and smiles.

The only innocent and pure, happy, simple, thing Axel has ever see on his face before.

Irony's a bitch.



He's been working on homework for an hour and Roxas has been sitting, silently reading a book. He does that sometimes and seems to actually enjoy it. He appears to like speculative stories, '1984', 'Clockwork Orange'. Books that have a darkly surreal, looming, verisimilar quality that Axel can't quite wrap his head around, yet.

"Yes?" the blond asks, his eyes glittering darkly. Axel isn't sure if he's pissed off about being interrupted of if it's just a variation of his usual creepy expression.

"My birthday's next week."

"I know." Roxas says, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Axel rolls his eyes. "How old are you?"

Roxas shifts a little bit and looks about as uncomfortable as Axel has ever seen him, even over all these years. "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I was dead. For a while."


"Well. Not dead. But I didn't exist for fourteen years and then I did and then I didn't. old do I look?"

"Twenty-seven, maybe."

"That seems about right?"

"You're kind of a sick freak."

Roxas bares his teeth in that thing which is sometimes a grin. "How do you figure that, Axel?"

The boy gets up. He's learned to swagger his hips in an entirely masculine manner, which never fails to drive everyone crazy with unabashed lust. It's kind of disturbing, considering how damn young he is. His wiry frame and long legs and strong arms sway like lovely blood-red flowers of paradise being caressed by a breeze.

"You don't even know your own age, but you're an adult and you're having sex with the only teenage boy who can see you."

He sits down in Roxas' lap, bony ass digging down into the man's thighs.

"You don't seem to be complaining."

Axel snickers. "What’s it like, Roxas?"


"Having me inside you."

Their mouths inch closer until they hold their conversation through a kiss.

"Do you want me to show you?"

"Fuck no."

"Mm, there are, alternatives to..." Roxas thrusts his tongue suggestively inside of the boy's mouth.

"Your tongue?" Axel gasps, pulling away, the twinkle in his eyes conveying his utter fascination with the idea.

"Probing deep in your ass, Axel."

"God, yes."



The redhead turns, the hair hanging just past his shoulders whips sharply along with the motion.

Demyx approaches, on his skateboard this time, he's been favoring it more than the blades lately.

"Hey, Demyx, what’s up?"

"You should come over."

"Why?" Axel wonders, cracking his neck obscenely to allow for his lack of interest to make itself obvious.

Demyx kicks his board up, jogging a few steps and then grabbing his friend by the arm. He smiles benignly, even as something dances in his eyes, playful like the rolling waves.

"My parents won't be home. How do you feel about getting shit-faced drunk and smoking up?"

Axel's eyes widen and he smirks. He tussles the taller boy's gelled hair to mess it up and annoy him. He hasn't really had much incident with drugs or alcohol. As far as he figures it, now's the perfect time to experiment.

"That sounds pretty wicked."

The bourbon and the whiskey and the gin and the cigarettes and the pot are exactly as wicked as they sound.

Demyx wails like a fucking cat while playing his guitar horribly, like an autistic kid, but Axel is too out of his own head to really care.

The room spins and lights and lines and shadows blur together and he's hornier than Hell.

He thinks that he'll just go home and get Roxas to suck him off or something, it's not a big deal until Demyx feels the need to point out the tent in his pants and giggle. It's positively insipid.

Axel doesn't take to being mocked too well.

That's probably how Demyx ends up on his back.

Maybe, or something.

"Shit, fuck, drive me insane..." Demyx moans, his knees pushed up to his shoulders and Axel driving into him. Roxas hates this position, Axel can always tell because he won't actually say anything while bent like this, he just moans. Not that Roxas would ever want to openly protest anything Axel desires, not when it comes to sex. Not when it comes to having his beautiful ass pounded.

"Shut up, Demyx," he slurs out, pressing their mouths together roughly, their drool mingling into shiny rivulets on Demyx's face. Axel thinks his friend would probably look pretty damn good with cum dripping down his face too.

"I'm gonna hurl."

"Shut. Up. Demyx."

Demyx does vomit, but the little fucker doesn't has the decency to turn his head and the smell of it is enough to completely destroy every arousing thought in Axel's head.

After helping the idiot clean up, both of them stumbling around blearily, the redhead gets a look at a clock and decides he has to get home. He'll take a shower and then go to bed with Roxas.

Except...the blond is standing on Demyx's fucking stoop and he...he looks hurt and possibly unhappy, which isn't possible. Because all he does is smile and know things and control things and...

"You slept with Demyx?" Roxas sounds positively appalled.

"Yeah, so?" Still drunk, still stumbling, still...Roxas holds him up, supporting him with thin arms, which are much stronger than they appear.

"I hate him."

"And why the fuck should I care?" He hasn't ever tried to hurt Roxas before. He's wanted to, he's wanted to pay the man back for the scars and the insanity that he exudes. "What is it you've always told me, ever since the day you just waltzed in? That you're mine? Not the other way around, Roxas. I don't care what you want. I don't care what you think!"

He has no idea where he is, all he really knows is that Roxas is under him and for some reason he thinks that Roxas has always been so small. Right now he's so easy to overpower.

Only because he isn't resisting.

Why isn't he resisting?”

"Damn right you don't fight back, Roxas!"

The man laughs.

"I am yours."


His mother is at work and Chelsey is at school and he and Demyx are ditching and hanging out at his house, for once.

Making out in his bedroom, sober, for once.

Demyx is so good with his tongue it should be a crime, but Axel isn't going to let on to that.

Not at all.

That would give up too much control and control is everything.

Like having Demyx on his fucking back.

And making Roxas watch.

He's gotten taller than his 'imaginary' friend by now. Stronger, physically, but he still remembers that one time Roxas completely lost it and the darkness came pouring out of him like a flood. The memory makes him shiver and makes him want to fuck something more than a loose fist.

"Where is Roxas?" Demyx mumbles. "I..." he moans as Axel cups him through his pants. "I kind of want to see him see if I remember him right..."

"He's around," Axel answers flippantly, smiling because he knows Roxas is probably really close by, listening and despising it.

Axel isn't in the mood to listen to any more of Demyx's stupid questions. He takes his friend dry; because lube is the one special thing he allots to his beloved Roxas, his best friend in the whole wide world.

That's why, then, when Demyx is barely out the door again, Axel turns on heel and hunts down his pretty little toy.

The blond sometimes goes to the living room, when he thinks Axel doesn't need him, and there are a few shelves of books there.

Roxas is sitting on the couch, cradling an open book in his palms, but plainly not reading it. He glances over when the redhead approaches and then turns his head away. It's kind of cute and annoying and childish and exactly the reaction Axel is hoping for.

"Demyx's hole is so tight."

Roxas looks up at him, his eyes narrowing.

The boy kisses the expression away, running his tongue teasingly over the backs of the man's teeth. Then he heads for his bedroom again, swaying his hips in that horrible way of his and Roxas really has no choice but to follow.

Where Axel's waiting.

Of course he's waiting, he's doing this, leading this dance, so he can have the satisfaction and Roxas *loves* it because it's just the way it used to be and maybe he's a little bit crazy for wanting it.

Well, who is he kidding? His love for Axel reaches beyond mere need. He is crazy. While trapped mutely inside of Sora's soul he lost all semblances of self and only managed to regain this form by breaking everything, his consciousness included, only clinging to the idea of being with Axel again.

And it has to be Axel. Perfectly Axel. In every aspect, it must be Axel.

"I love you, Axel. You're everything I have."

"Don't be a sap," the redhead snaps. "Take your clothes off." His smirk gets wide and gorgeous.

Roxas does as he's told, taking off his layers of clothing with an ease that he didn't always have.

He lies back on the bed and spreads his legs invitingly. "Please?"

"I was thinking we'd do something different today," Axel suggest, his grin turning menacing and sinister. Roxas has memories of him giving that same look to Larxene. It's dangerous and shows exactly how much Axel loves to build people up and break them down again.


"Close your eyes then, it's a surprise."

He plays at affection; Roxas' heart jumps to his throat.

When Axel draws near his asshole, the blond keeps his eyes submissively shut. Holds them closed, even when his flesh begins to stretch and burn, despite the warm oily lubricant.

He keeps his eyes shut.

"Axel, what is that?" he whimpers.

The boy's mouth descends, dropping kisses all over his face, even as the foreign object continues to sink in deeper.

"Flashlight. The big mag-lite from the kitchen."


"Like how the tables have turned, Roxas?"



The hospital tried years ago to kill Sora.

Riku hadn't let them.

He'd been enraged and sickened by the suggestion that they cut his life support, even more so when Kairi supported them.

He doesn't care if it has already been over ten years.

Sora is strong.

If they can just find that little shit Roxas...

Everything will be all right.

He is going to find the fucker if it's the last thing he does.


For some reason, Demyx decides that he and Axel need to go on a real date.

Axel tells him it's bullshit and just because they fuck doesn’t mean they're dating.

Roxas hears all about it and his hatred for Demyx only grows. Demyx is an obstacle, something getting between himself and Axel, just like the boy's mother used to be, before she became too busy doting on Chelsey in between therapy sessions.

He's waiting impatiently for Axel's next birthday, when the child will turn eighteen, join the ranks of adults and be free of his bitch mother forever.

In the meantime, Demyx wants to spend some special time with Axel and whines and begs and offers sexual favors until his friend agrees.

Axel just fails to mention that he intends to bring Roxas along to keep things from getting dull.

For twelve years Roxas has never gone farther than the school with Axel. He is not sure whether to feel trepidation or excitement for the trip. He contemplates it further as he and Axel board the bus. Demyx intends to meet them in the city at noon.

The bus is crowded, positively full of people, and the blond really has no choice but to sit in Axel’s lap, so as not to have to endure some oblivious person sitting directly on top of his temporal presence.

It's probably exactly what Axel wants.


"Take off your pants, Roxas," he whispers under his breath. It isn't a difficult or strange request, so long as no one overhears.

The situation only becomes tenuous when Axel subtly undoes the fly of his own pants, pulling out his cock and just barely hiding his actions behind the backpack he'd brought along. Probably exactly for this purpose.

"Axel, you're going to get kicked off the bus," Roxas warns, even as he sinks down onto the boy's cock, rocking and giving a tight hiss at the ache. They don’t have time or room for lube, and the burn feels wonderful anyway.

The redhead never answers him, only holds his hips and grinds up against his ass as much as he can in the cramped and public quarters.

"Kiss me, Roxas," he mouths as his breath turns to huffs and he looks as if he wants to moan more loudly than is acceptable in their setting.

It's a pleasant change to be invited to kiss the boy.

Roxas can lie to himself and hope; maybe, Axel cares about him like he never could before.


Axel's eighteenth birthday is nothing too fancy. He moves out of his mother's house, obviously taking Roxas along with him. He gets the scars on his cheeks tattooed, filling them in with black ink until he looks just like he did before.

Then he invites over Demyx, gets completely drunk, and fucks Roxas in front of his friend.

All in all, he can't possibly ask for more.

Well, okay, he does ask Demyx to suck a grape out of Roxas' ass...while he videotapes it...but that's all. Really.

Honestly, it's just an experiment of whether Roxas will still be visible to him on film.

Because the disgusted look on Roxas' face when Demyx touches him is so totally priceless.


"You aren’t a little boy anymore," Roxas mumbles affectionately, carding Axel's ruby hair through his fingers. Absinthian eyes smile at him, as do soft, thin, lips.

"You miss the little boy, you sick freak?"

"No, when I had him, I missed the real Axel."


"Lover, you don't remember how much we suffered for this."

"Yet, you let me hurt you now."

"Yes. I let you."



"It's stupid."

"If you think so, then don’t do it."


"I'm yours either way."



"Happy birthday, Axel."

He seems better, Roxas does, that is.

He seems more like a real person, his skin is warmer, and his eyes are calmer. His smiles are soothing and beautiful but not in the dangerously intense way they used to be.


"What is it?"

"Why weren’t you like this from the start?"

"Like what?"


"Because you're an asshole and an idiot," Roxas laughs, smiling radiantly. "You never do what's good for you without being forced into it."

"Fuck you."


"I've found you, you insignificant little fuck!"

The man has long gray hair pulled severely to the back of his head in a long ponytail. His body is shockingly well developed and his eyes are heavy and sorrowful.

He can see Roxas.

Axel wants to let his petulant anger burn. Wants to accuse Roxas of lying to him. 'You said no one else could see you! You told me that, all these years! I thought Demyx was the only one!"

But this man.

He sees Roxas.

He's here for Roxas.

Every fiber of Axel's being cries out that he won't lose Roxas again.

He doesn't understand why, because he's never *lost* Roxas to begin with, but that's the litany echoing endless within the confines of his skull.

Roxas is the first one to vocalize the sentiment.

"Not again, Riku! I won't go back."

"And I won't give up Sora. You know how this works. You know I can defeat you! Come back peacefully and I won't have to hurt you!"

Roxas' eyes are beginning to flicker and his body is tensing and he's returning to the madness. It's the same power that allowed him to claw from the grave he found himself buried in, deep within the core of Sora's soul.

The shadows are pulsing all around him.

He smiles wildly at Axel and...the redhead feels the heat overtake him.

Whatever happens next, he doesn't know.

Never does.

Everything goes black and, when at last he can see again, he is crouched down on the floor, his entire body aching and Riku's heart beating faintly in the palm of his hand.

Roxas is standing very close by, covered in blood.


Smiling, but tenderly, as if his madness has been returned to its bronze cage once more.

"I won't lose you again," they whisper together.

The End