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kinkfestTitle: The 5th Night
Author/Artist: anime_angel_ash
Rating: R
Spoilers: Chain of Memories and Twilight Town stuff.
Warnings: Threesome sex. Hoorah.
Word Count: 3073
Summary: "We promised, a long time ago, that we would share you. Is that okay, Roxas?"
Prompt: June 18 - Kingdom Hearts, Axel/Roxas/Namine: Jealousy/Roxas-centered love triangle - "I saw him first!"
Roxas isn’t sure what possessed him to come here at this time of night. He should be getting home—he was already pushing it, staying out with Hayner and the others until after the sun set—but for some reason, his curiosity brings him here, to the abandoned mansion where it shines eerily in the half-light of dusk.
The lock is gone from the gates, and he stops to wonder about that for a moment before heading inside the mansion’s garden walls. He already knows where he’s going; there’s really only one place he can go. The fact that he sees her curtains moving, shifting about against her window and adding to the mysterious feeling about the place, only feeds his curiosity.
Namine looks up from her sketchbook as he steps into the white room, the door already open as if she were expecting him. “Hello, Roxas,” she greets him, voice with a calm, pale tint to match the room. The whole place feels like a whisper. The walls, a brilliant white in the daytime with only a few of Namine’s drawings to break up the emptiness, are dark now, a deep shade of blue that spreads about the place like silence. The curtains, thick and white as the rest of the room, let in the smallest bit of moonlight, barely a mist. “It looks like it worked. I’m glad you’re here.”
“What worked?” Roxas asks, then flinches; his voice feels too loud in here. Namine shakes her head with a smile, sets her sketchpad on the table, and gets to her feet. His heart flutters a little, seeing that smile, though he’s not quite sure why (is it Sora? Did Sora know Namine?).
However, before he can follow that train of thought very far, the curtains shift in a seemingly non-existent breeze, splashing moonlight into the corner and onto a frighteningly familiar face. Immediately, Roxas jumps, prepares himself to fight, despite his lack of a weapon. “Namine!” he hisses, eyes focused on the man in the corner. “Look out!”
Namine, however, just continues to smile, though it seems smaller all of a sudden, blending better with the somber blue of the room. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“I could’ve told you that!” Axel spits from beneath Roxas’ unyielding gaze, only bothering to glance at Roxas for half a moment before grimacing and looking away again. He seems relaxed from what Roxas can see, the way he leans against the wall with lazily crossed arms. However, there is some kind of stiffness to him, like he is trying too hard to imitate nonchalance.
“He’s dangerous, Namine.” Never taking his eyes off Axel, Roxas steps forward, wrapping his hand around Namine’s wrist and pulling her behind him. Axel twitches, jaw setting in some scant attempt at restraint as he watches them, and Roxas gets into what he hopes will work as a defensive stance.
When Namine’s voice comes, flitting over his shoulder like scraps of paper fluttering in the breeze, it’s much too calm for the circumstances. Too comfortable; too assured. “He is when he wants to be,” she says, touching Roxas’ shoulder so softly that he can only feel it in the sudden loosening of his muscles. “But he doesn’t want to be. Not right now.”
“What, are you on his side, now?” Roxas asks, simultaneously attempting to turn on her and not turn his back on Axel.
Namine giggles in response; the way the sound bounces around the room is completely unsettling. “Not usually. We’ve actually been fighting a bit lately.”
“Over what?” Roxas says, doesn’t ask, isn’t listening. His gaze is back on Axel. He shifts nervously on the balls of his feet, keeping his eyes trained for even the slightest bit of movement from the man, the slightest twitch of a finger that might call those crazy weapons of his. Axel returns the favor, watching Roxas through probing, half-lidded eyes that seem to float over a stiffly set jaw. Roxas does not like that look.
“You.”
The curtains sway in front of the window, rubbing against each other as they move. Axel glances away, up toward the ceiling, huffs and leans heavily against the wall. Roxas stares into the silence. “Huh?”
“We miss you, Roxas,” Namine says softly, though it feels incredibly blunt. “Axel and I.” Her fingers slide like wisps of nothing over his hips, settling into his pockets like they belong there; it’s so intrusive and intimate that Roxas can’t help but blush. Gently, she nudges him in Axel’s direction, refocusing his attention on the man, who is no less tense than he was a moment ago. “You’re best friends, right?”
Axel drops his gaze, sliding it across the cold, black floor and fidgeting uncomfortably. He keeps his eyes focused there as he steps forward, crossing the room to Roxas in a few slow, measure strides. Lifting his head—a flippant and prideful air is forced into every movement he makes during the process—he gazes down at Roxas with cold, steely eyes. However, beneath that carefully laid bit of armor, Roxas spots something he can’t quite place. It becomes clearer, though, when Roxas feels the man’s fingers quivering as they slide across the sides of his face.
For a moment, Axel pauses there, pointedly looking away, over Roxas’ shoulder. However, the gaze isn’t random this time; Roxas can feel Namine there, resting here chin gently against his shoulder, right in Axel’s line of sight. Axel keeps his eyes on her as he leans in, closer to Roxas—too close, and Roxas feels himself jerk back instinctively; Axel’s face doesn’t change—only looking him in the eye when their noses are close enough to brush. “Roxas,” he says, matter-of-fact and firm. Roxas only feels breath and that ghost of a word brushing over his lips before Axel’s are there, chapped, rough, and motionless.
Roxas freezes. He can do little else, shock effortlessly soldering him to the ground. Axel also goes still, though with much less dazed rigidity. Rather, his is a confident stillness, one that comes from knowing well what the immediate future will hold. But there’s a firework-popping in the back of Roxas’ mind, and it's fairly clear that Axel doesn’t comprehend—just as Roxas himself doesn’t understand—the taste of cold, creamy salt that has found its way to Roxas’ tongue. It isn’t an accident that he kisses Axel back.
Somehow managing to freeze once again while already completely still, Axel pauses, effectively making the situation even more awkward. Slowly drawing away from Roxas like the slightest of movements will shatter them both, Axel fixes him with a wide-eyed stare, his previous bitterness nowhere to be found. Roxas has to look away after a few seconds, feet shuffling and warmth rising in his cheeks. This is definitely not the same Axel.
However, just as the man begins to lean in again—much less confidently, Roxas notices, moving forward a little, bobbing back—Namine’s hand slides from Roxas’ pocket, giving him gooseflesh as it ghosts up his side, neck, comes to rest at his cheek. She’s over his shoulder again, and though he can’t see her face, Roxas can practically feel her smile, soft and bright in this room of impenetrable blue. Axel sees it, too, and freezes in place, glancing toward her. Though it’s clear he isn’t happy with what he sees there—his eyes narrow, jaw setting behind his lips—she still manages to make him abate. Stepping back, he tries to return to his mock-casual self, though the impatient drumming of fingers against his arm gives him away.
His immediate absence, however, doesn’t constitute much of a break for Roxas; Namine sees to that. Gently, the hand on his cheek glides back down his neck, a chill shooting through his nerves as it slinks down his front, under his shirt, and back up again. “We promised,” she breaths into his ear, “a long time ago, that we would share you.” Her other, still pocketed hand contributes to the effort, and Roxas nearly chokes when her nimble fingers brush against him through his clothes. “Is that okay, Roxas?”
His nod is almost immediate, coming long before any rational thought. It isn’t until he feels a pair of lips on the back of his neck—a smile, he realizes, sweet and slight—and a set of hands easing his jacket from his shoulders that he begins to wonder what he’s agreed to.
It doesn’t last long. Another instant, and Axel is before him, eyes narrowed and burning. He takes hold of Roxas’ face again—harsher, more urgent and honest than before—and Roxas can practically feel the query in Axel’s kiss.
Roxas’ response—a little surer, but not escaping uncertainty—is really too tentative to be a proper answer. However, it’s apparently good enough. In the next instant, Roxas is practically engulfed by the man, wrapped in an impossible amount of black cloth as Axel drags him closer and forces his tongue between Roxas' teeth. He catches Namine up in it, too, pulling her against Roxas’ back until her dress hides distressingly little anymore.
Roxas comes up gagging, face hot despite his every effort, and he half-blames it on Axel’s powers instead of just his advances. A chuckle escapes from behind Axel’s deadly serious face, a smile curling the corners of his lips. However, before he can proceed to ignore Roxas’ unamused glower and lean in for another kiss, Namine’s hand flutters over Roxas’ shoulder, landing lightly on Axel’s. Another annoyed glance, a silent agreement, and a little shuffling later, and she’s standing in front of Roxas, smiling a promise up at him.
Namine’s fingers are quick and quiet, zippers running silent and cloth just barely rustling under her hands. By the time he’s aware of anything besides the feel of her lips—soft, gentle, distinctly unlike Axel’s—his shirt has fallen beside his feet, and nimble fingers are sliding his pants off his hips to gather at his ankles. Then Axel’s hands slide over Roxas' chest and there is the sensation of teeth and tongue at his neck, and there’s no more coherent thought.
The floor is chilly beneath Roxas’ back as they sink together to the pristine tile, making the warm lips and hands running across his skin that much more intense. He can see his jacket, the smallest bit of white cloth poking over the edge of the table above him (Namine apparently folded it before setting it down, and considering the situation, that is one of the most ridiculous things he has ever seen). His eyes land on it and stick, focused there as his own shaking breaths and curled fists fail to quell the clenching in his stomach and the warmth below his navel.
“Are you sure he’s not watching?” Axel hisses, breath ghosting over Roxas’ thigh, and Roxas just barely registers the unpleasant feeling of his fingernails scraping against the tile.
Namine nods in answer, thin blonde hair tickling Roxas’ chest, and when she speaks, her voice is strangely low: “There’s too much data here. He records everything and watches it later.”
Data?
“Well,”—a chuckle, deep and hot, and Roxas can feel it vibrating through his skin—“he’s in for a nasty surprise.”
A groan leaves Roxas’ lips before he has a chance to stifle it and he reaches down, a hand firmly coming to rest at the back of Axel’s head. He feels Axel’s hesitance through his fingertips, the way the man stiffens and then loosens up again, a wicked smile seeping out through every part of him. “Why so eager, Roxas?” he growls, deep in his throat, as his head obediently drops down and his tongue flicks over the tip of Roxas’ arousal.
When Roxas opens his eyes again, insides tight and moan still clenched between his teeth, Namine is there, smiling down at him. A kiss swiftly follows, so intentionally gentle and chaste that, coupled with what Axel is doing, he knows they mean to drive him insane. Throwing his free arm around her, Roxas pulls her down to him, frustration making him bold. Namine, however, will not be goaded; her kiss remains innocent, lips stretching into a teasing smile, and he almost wishes he could hate her.
By the time she guides his hand off her back and beneath her dress, he swears he could cry with joy. However, his relief doesn’t last long. Even as his hips rise, brushing against Axel’s cheek, the man’s lifts his head and unceremoniously breaks from Roxas’ grip. “You know I don’t do that.” He chuckles, hands gliding up Roxas body to his face. “You were the one that was good at that, remember?”
Did he know that? Did he remember? Roxas knows he doesn’t (how could he? For all he knows, he’d only met these two a week ago), and yet, the words ring with familiarity, reverberating in a small, fuzzy part of his mind that he can’t quite reach.
He doesn’t have much time to try, however. In the next second, another, larger hand comes to rest on Namine’s chest beside his own, and she quickly pulls away from him. Axel is there when Roxas opens his eyes, hands against Namine’s chest and forehead, trying to nudge her out of the way. For a moment, Namine looks surprised—it looks strange on her, Roxas notices—her blue eyes wide and bright in the darkness. However, it doesn’t take long for her smile to return, and suddenly she leans in instead of away, planting a kiss on Axel’s lips.
Axel’s eyes start wide, then narrow as he pushes her away, and narrow even more after Namine refuses to take that for an answer and kisses him again. They shut tight when he resigns himself, face twisted with annoyance, and she pulls him closer and reaches beneath his robes. The man stiffens up, battling with himself, leaning into her hand the smallest bit, then coming to his senses and jerking away. The damage, however, is done. As Axel glares at her, grabbing her wrist to stop her manipulations and loudly rebuking her (“What the hell is the matter with you?!”), Roxas covers his mouth, a strange half-laugh, half-groan slipping between his fingers.
Their eyes are on him in an instant, and this time it is only a laugh that escapes his lips. Eyebrows raised, heads tilted in curiosity, they come dangerously close to looking like twins, if only in expression and posture. The comparison, however, remains once his laugh is gone, and the smile slips from his face when he realizes it. There’s something in both their eyes, their mischievous smiles that form as their confusion ends, their bodies as they fall upon him in unison. Suddenly, it’s in them, has been their all along, warm and bright and all for him.
And he hates himself when he can’t remember why.
It doesn't take long for everything to become a blur, a mess of sound, texture, darkness and liquid warmth. Dark robes shift over his skin, spreading out to leave their black mark on the spotless floor. The white dress falls, empty, from his hands, cloth made molten by the delicate heat of its owner. Namine is spread out beneath him, smiling with tears in the corners of her eyes as she grabs his face and nods. Then there’s Axel, a body of brick at his back, cursing between his teeth, saying Roxas’ name like it’s the only thing that has ever mattered.
Their hands—delicate and lean, large and battle-cracked—cradle him, find everything, things he didn’t even know about (or maybe, maybe…). Axel digs his fingers into Roxas’ hips, pulls them back sharply, breathes hot and shaky against Roxas’ ear. Namine grabs Roxas’ hands, shivers hard and mewls as she looks him in the eye. Muscles clench, pull, and then her stomach is covered with a line of white as Roxas crumples. Axel catches him and laughs, something like relief and denial, and Namine giggles, and then even Roxas is laughing, embraced by them both.
They’re on the floor, side by side, and Namine is kissing him calm—his nose, his lips, his forehead, like the little girl she still is, somehow—when Axel touches his cheek, turns him over on his other side. The man’s hands are beginning to turn rough again when he takes Roxas’ face between them and pulls him closer, searching too-deep blue with narrowed eyes. Roxas tries—really, really tries, so much that he feels it killing him—to put something there for Axel to see, anything to keep him from—
The smile that finds its way to Axel’s face is only that in name, with nothing else about it to make it so. More of a smirk, it’s meant to cover what is truly there, but even in that, it fails—it’s not big enough. Still, Axel nods with grim resignation, sighs, and kisses Roxas one more time.
A few minutes later, Axel is gone, stepping into a mass of condensed, swirling black with a casual, “See ya,” before disappearing altogether. Roxas watches the spot longer than he should, and Namine understands, curling into him and running her fingers across his back and hair. Roxas falls back and closes his eyes, and somehow the warmth slips between his lips in word form. He feels Namine nod above him, and something about her answer of, “We know,” just makes it that much truer.
“You should probably head home, Roxas,” she says as she stands, brushing off her dress.
“Yeah,” Roxas answers dreamily, smiling up at her. She returns it with her own smile—he almost wants to think it’s covering something, too, until he realizes what he thinks it's covering is just mixed in—then heads out the door, letting it close quietly behind her.
It isn’t until he’s straightening his clothes that Roxas notices the sketchbook she left on the table, sees the picture she was working on when he came. It’s simple, like the other drawings in the room, set right in the path of a thin line of night light. A few strokes of angry red and black, a bright trace of white, connected at two pairs of barely-drawn hands. Touching and, together, encircling a familiar splotch of blonde and gold.
And he wonders.
Author/Artist: anime_angel_ash
Rating: R
Spoilers: Chain of Memories and Twilight Town stuff.
Warnings: Threesome sex. Hoorah.
Word Count: 3073
Summary: "We promised, a long time ago, that we would share you. Is that okay, Roxas?"
Prompt: June 18 - Kingdom Hearts, Axel/Roxas/Namine: Jealousy/Roxas-centered love triangle - "I saw him first!"
Roxas isn’t sure what possessed him to come here at this time of night. He should be getting home—he was already pushing it, staying out with Hayner and the others until after the sun set—but for some reason, his curiosity brings him here, to the abandoned mansion where it shines eerily in the half-light of dusk.
The lock is gone from the gates, and he stops to wonder about that for a moment before heading inside the mansion’s garden walls. He already knows where he’s going; there’s really only one place he can go. The fact that he sees her curtains moving, shifting about against her window and adding to the mysterious feeling about the place, only feeds his curiosity.
Namine looks up from her sketchbook as he steps into the white room, the door already open as if she were expecting him. “Hello, Roxas,” she greets him, voice with a calm, pale tint to match the room. The whole place feels like a whisper. The walls, a brilliant white in the daytime with only a few of Namine’s drawings to break up the emptiness, are dark now, a deep shade of blue that spreads about the place like silence. The curtains, thick and white as the rest of the room, let in the smallest bit of moonlight, barely a mist. “It looks like it worked. I’m glad you’re here.”
“What worked?” Roxas asks, then flinches; his voice feels too loud in here. Namine shakes her head with a smile, sets her sketchpad on the table, and gets to her feet. His heart flutters a little, seeing that smile, though he’s not quite sure why (is it Sora? Did Sora know Namine?).
However, before he can follow that train of thought very far, the curtains shift in a seemingly non-existent breeze, splashing moonlight into the corner and onto a frighteningly familiar face. Immediately, Roxas jumps, prepares himself to fight, despite his lack of a weapon. “Namine!” he hisses, eyes focused on the man in the corner. “Look out!”
Namine, however, just continues to smile, though it seems smaller all of a sudden, blending better with the somber blue of the room. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“I could’ve told you that!” Axel spits from beneath Roxas’ unyielding gaze, only bothering to glance at Roxas for half a moment before grimacing and looking away again. He seems relaxed from what Roxas can see, the way he leans against the wall with lazily crossed arms. However, there is some kind of stiffness to him, like he is trying too hard to imitate nonchalance.
“He’s dangerous, Namine.” Never taking his eyes off Axel, Roxas steps forward, wrapping his hand around Namine’s wrist and pulling her behind him. Axel twitches, jaw setting in some scant attempt at restraint as he watches them, and Roxas gets into what he hopes will work as a defensive stance.
When Namine’s voice comes, flitting over his shoulder like scraps of paper fluttering in the breeze, it’s much too calm for the circumstances. Too comfortable; too assured. “He is when he wants to be,” she says, touching Roxas’ shoulder so softly that he can only feel it in the sudden loosening of his muscles. “But he doesn’t want to be. Not right now.”
“What, are you on his side, now?” Roxas asks, simultaneously attempting to turn on her and not turn his back on Axel.
Namine giggles in response; the way the sound bounces around the room is completely unsettling. “Not usually. We’ve actually been fighting a bit lately.”
“Over what?” Roxas says, doesn’t ask, isn’t listening. His gaze is back on Axel. He shifts nervously on the balls of his feet, keeping his eyes trained for even the slightest bit of movement from the man, the slightest twitch of a finger that might call those crazy weapons of his. Axel returns the favor, watching Roxas through probing, half-lidded eyes that seem to float over a stiffly set jaw. Roxas does not like that look.
“You.”
The curtains sway in front of the window, rubbing against each other as they move. Axel glances away, up toward the ceiling, huffs and leans heavily against the wall. Roxas stares into the silence. “Huh?”
“We miss you, Roxas,” Namine says softly, though it feels incredibly blunt. “Axel and I.” Her fingers slide like wisps of nothing over his hips, settling into his pockets like they belong there; it’s so intrusive and intimate that Roxas can’t help but blush. Gently, she nudges him in Axel’s direction, refocusing his attention on the man, who is no less tense than he was a moment ago. “You’re best friends, right?”
Axel drops his gaze, sliding it across the cold, black floor and fidgeting uncomfortably. He keeps his eyes focused there as he steps forward, crossing the room to Roxas in a few slow, measure strides. Lifting his head—a flippant and prideful air is forced into every movement he makes during the process—he gazes down at Roxas with cold, steely eyes. However, beneath that carefully laid bit of armor, Roxas spots something he can’t quite place. It becomes clearer, though, when Roxas feels the man’s fingers quivering as they slide across the sides of his face.
For a moment, Axel pauses there, pointedly looking away, over Roxas’ shoulder. However, the gaze isn’t random this time; Roxas can feel Namine there, resting here chin gently against his shoulder, right in Axel’s line of sight. Axel keeps his eyes on her as he leans in, closer to Roxas—too close, and Roxas feels himself jerk back instinctively; Axel’s face doesn’t change—only looking him in the eye when their noses are close enough to brush. “Roxas,” he says, matter-of-fact and firm. Roxas only feels breath and that ghost of a word brushing over his lips before Axel’s are there, chapped, rough, and motionless.
Roxas freezes. He can do little else, shock effortlessly soldering him to the ground. Axel also goes still, though with much less dazed rigidity. Rather, his is a confident stillness, one that comes from knowing well what the immediate future will hold. But there’s a firework-popping in the back of Roxas’ mind, and it's fairly clear that Axel doesn’t comprehend—just as Roxas himself doesn’t understand—the taste of cold, creamy salt that has found its way to Roxas’ tongue. It isn’t an accident that he kisses Axel back.
Somehow managing to freeze once again while already completely still, Axel pauses, effectively making the situation even more awkward. Slowly drawing away from Roxas like the slightest of movements will shatter them both, Axel fixes him with a wide-eyed stare, his previous bitterness nowhere to be found. Roxas has to look away after a few seconds, feet shuffling and warmth rising in his cheeks. This is definitely not the same Axel.
However, just as the man begins to lean in again—much less confidently, Roxas notices, moving forward a little, bobbing back—Namine’s hand slides from Roxas’ pocket, giving him gooseflesh as it ghosts up his side, neck, comes to rest at his cheek. She’s over his shoulder again, and though he can’t see her face, Roxas can practically feel her smile, soft and bright in this room of impenetrable blue. Axel sees it, too, and freezes in place, glancing toward her. Though it’s clear he isn’t happy with what he sees there—his eyes narrow, jaw setting behind his lips—she still manages to make him abate. Stepping back, he tries to return to his mock-casual self, though the impatient drumming of fingers against his arm gives him away.
His immediate absence, however, doesn’t constitute much of a break for Roxas; Namine sees to that. Gently, the hand on his cheek glides back down his neck, a chill shooting through his nerves as it slinks down his front, under his shirt, and back up again. “We promised,” she breaths into his ear, “a long time ago, that we would share you.” Her other, still pocketed hand contributes to the effort, and Roxas nearly chokes when her nimble fingers brush against him through his clothes. “Is that okay, Roxas?”
His nod is almost immediate, coming long before any rational thought. It isn’t until he feels a pair of lips on the back of his neck—a smile, he realizes, sweet and slight—and a set of hands easing his jacket from his shoulders that he begins to wonder what he’s agreed to.
It doesn’t last long. Another instant, and Axel is before him, eyes narrowed and burning. He takes hold of Roxas’ face again—harsher, more urgent and honest than before—and Roxas can practically feel the query in Axel’s kiss.
Roxas’ response—a little surer, but not escaping uncertainty—is really too tentative to be a proper answer. However, it’s apparently good enough. In the next instant, Roxas is practically engulfed by the man, wrapped in an impossible amount of black cloth as Axel drags him closer and forces his tongue between Roxas' teeth. He catches Namine up in it, too, pulling her against Roxas’ back until her dress hides distressingly little anymore.
Roxas comes up gagging, face hot despite his every effort, and he half-blames it on Axel’s powers instead of just his advances. A chuckle escapes from behind Axel’s deadly serious face, a smile curling the corners of his lips. However, before he can proceed to ignore Roxas’ unamused glower and lean in for another kiss, Namine’s hand flutters over Roxas’ shoulder, landing lightly on Axel’s. Another annoyed glance, a silent agreement, and a little shuffling later, and she’s standing in front of Roxas, smiling a promise up at him.
Namine’s fingers are quick and quiet, zippers running silent and cloth just barely rustling under her hands. By the time he’s aware of anything besides the feel of her lips—soft, gentle, distinctly unlike Axel’s—his shirt has fallen beside his feet, and nimble fingers are sliding his pants off his hips to gather at his ankles. Then Axel’s hands slide over Roxas' chest and there is the sensation of teeth and tongue at his neck, and there’s no more coherent thought.
The floor is chilly beneath Roxas’ back as they sink together to the pristine tile, making the warm lips and hands running across his skin that much more intense. He can see his jacket, the smallest bit of white cloth poking over the edge of the table above him (Namine apparently folded it before setting it down, and considering the situation, that is one of the most ridiculous things he has ever seen). His eyes land on it and stick, focused there as his own shaking breaths and curled fists fail to quell the clenching in his stomach and the warmth below his navel.
“Are you sure he’s not watching?” Axel hisses, breath ghosting over Roxas’ thigh, and Roxas just barely registers the unpleasant feeling of his fingernails scraping against the tile.
Namine nods in answer, thin blonde hair tickling Roxas’ chest, and when she speaks, her voice is strangely low: “There’s too much data here. He records everything and watches it later.”
Data?
“Well,”—a chuckle, deep and hot, and Roxas can feel it vibrating through his skin—“he’s in for a nasty surprise.”
A groan leaves Roxas’ lips before he has a chance to stifle it and he reaches down, a hand firmly coming to rest at the back of Axel’s head. He feels Axel’s hesitance through his fingertips, the way the man stiffens and then loosens up again, a wicked smile seeping out through every part of him. “Why so eager, Roxas?” he growls, deep in his throat, as his head obediently drops down and his tongue flicks over the tip of Roxas’ arousal.
When Roxas opens his eyes again, insides tight and moan still clenched between his teeth, Namine is there, smiling down at him. A kiss swiftly follows, so intentionally gentle and chaste that, coupled with what Axel is doing, he knows they mean to drive him insane. Throwing his free arm around her, Roxas pulls her down to him, frustration making him bold. Namine, however, will not be goaded; her kiss remains innocent, lips stretching into a teasing smile, and he almost wishes he could hate her.
By the time she guides his hand off her back and beneath her dress, he swears he could cry with joy. However, his relief doesn’t last long. Even as his hips rise, brushing against Axel’s cheek, the man’s lifts his head and unceremoniously breaks from Roxas’ grip. “You know I don’t do that.” He chuckles, hands gliding up Roxas body to his face. “You were the one that was good at that, remember?”
Did he know that? Did he remember? Roxas knows he doesn’t (how could he? For all he knows, he’d only met these two a week ago), and yet, the words ring with familiarity, reverberating in a small, fuzzy part of his mind that he can’t quite reach.
He doesn’t have much time to try, however. In the next second, another, larger hand comes to rest on Namine’s chest beside his own, and she quickly pulls away from him. Axel is there when Roxas opens his eyes, hands against Namine’s chest and forehead, trying to nudge her out of the way. For a moment, Namine looks surprised—it looks strange on her, Roxas notices—her blue eyes wide and bright in the darkness. However, it doesn’t take long for her smile to return, and suddenly she leans in instead of away, planting a kiss on Axel’s lips.
Axel’s eyes start wide, then narrow as he pushes her away, and narrow even more after Namine refuses to take that for an answer and kisses him again. They shut tight when he resigns himself, face twisted with annoyance, and she pulls him closer and reaches beneath his robes. The man stiffens up, battling with himself, leaning into her hand the smallest bit, then coming to his senses and jerking away. The damage, however, is done. As Axel glares at her, grabbing her wrist to stop her manipulations and loudly rebuking her (“What the hell is the matter with you?!”), Roxas covers his mouth, a strange half-laugh, half-groan slipping between his fingers.
Their eyes are on him in an instant, and this time it is only a laugh that escapes his lips. Eyebrows raised, heads tilted in curiosity, they come dangerously close to looking like twins, if only in expression and posture. The comparison, however, remains once his laugh is gone, and the smile slips from his face when he realizes it. There’s something in both their eyes, their mischievous smiles that form as their confusion ends, their bodies as they fall upon him in unison. Suddenly, it’s in them, has been their all along, warm and bright and all for him.
And he hates himself when he can’t remember why.
It doesn't take long for everything to become a blur, a mess of sound, texture, darkness and liquid warmth. Dark robes shift over his skin, spreading out to leave their black mark on the spotless floor. The white dress falls, empty, from his hands, cloth made molten by the delicate heat of its owner. Namine is spread out beneath him, smiling with tears in the corners of her eyes as she grabs his face and nods. Then there’s Axel, a body of brick at his back, cursing between his teeth, saying Roxas’ name like it’s the only thing that has ever mattered.
Their hands—delicate and lean, large and battle-cracked—cradle him, find everything, things he didn’t even know about (or maybe, maybe…). Axel digs his fingers into Roxas’ hips, pulls them back sharply, breathes hot and shaky against Roxas’ ear. Namine grabs Roxas’ hands, shivers hard and mewls as she looks him in the eye. Muscles clench, pull, and then her stomach is covered with a line of white as Roxas crumples. Axel catches him and laughs, something like relief and denial, and Namine giggles, and then even Roxas is laughing, embraced by them both.
They’re on the floor, side by side, and Namine is kissing him calm—his nose, his lips, his forehead, like the little girl she still is, somehow—when Axel touches his cheek, turns him over on his other side. The man’s hands are beginning to turn rough again when he takes Roxas’ face between them and pulls him closer, searching too-deep blue with narrowed eyes. Roxas tries—really, really tries, so much that he feels it killing him—to put something there for Axel to see, anything to keep him from—
The smile that finds its way to Axel’s face is only that in name, with nothing else about it to make it so. More of a smirk, it’s meant to cover what is truly there, but even in that, it fails—it’s not big enough. Still, Axel nods with grim resignation, sighs, and kisses Roxas one more time.
A few minutes later, Axel is gone, stepping into a mass of condensed, swirling black with a casual, “See ya,” before disappearing altogether. Roxas watches the spot longer than he should, and Namine understands, curling into him and running her fingers across his back and hair. Roxas falls back and closes his eyes, and somehow the warmth slips between his lips in word form. He feels Namine nod above him, and something about her answer of, “We know,” just makes it that much truer.
“You should probably head home, Roxas,” she says as she stands, brushing off her dress.
“Yeah,” Roxas answers dreamily, smiling up at her. She returns it with her own smile—he almost wants to think it’s covering something, too, until he realizes what he thinks it's covering is just mixed in—then heads out the door, letting it close quietly behind her.
It isn’t until he’s straightening his clothes that Roxas notices the sketchbook she left on the table, sees the picture she was working on when he came. It’s simple, like the other drawings in the room, set right in the path of a thin line of night light. A few strokes of angry red and black, a bright trace of white, connected at two pairs of barely-drawn hands. Touching and, together, encircling a familiar splotch of blonde and gold.
And he wonders.
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 03:18 pm (UTC)Definitely better than what I ever expected out of this prompt! <3
no subject
Date: 2008-06-20 06:14 pm (UTC)Not so much of the Axel/Namine, but that's fitting for this prompt. I love the teasing little hints of Roxas' absent memory, and the half-awareness he has of being a Nobody. The characterization was delicious.
*applauds* :D