Once upon a time before I became obsessed with the Persona 4 fandom I was part of several others.  I thought it would be fun to post old fics because, some of them, I do like the writing (which is a surprise I thought I’d cringe, lol).

So, here we go!

This is a the one and only Kingdom Hearts fic I’ve ever written, which is surprising, because I grow increasingly frustrated with the franchise absolutely love the franchise.  This Axel and Roxas story was posted on y! gallery back in 2007, holy cripes!  And that’s y!gallery, it was probably on livejournal earlier than that.  

Warnings:  Angst, sex between boys – or nobodies, if you will, though I suppose technically at this point… you know what?  Not even going to try and explain, back when this was written there was no 358/2, no Dream Drop Distance, nothing like that at all.  Also, warning to the fact that this was written five years ago, so read at your own risk because I haven’t changed anything about the story.

***

He has a faint memory of dreams with beaches, friends, and sea-salt on the tip of his tongue. Now the taste on his tongue is that of liquid fire kisses and his friends have been replaced by a man he does and does not know. The man is covered from head to toe in black: coat and pants, boots and gloves. He does and does not know this man, and he does and does not know that this man’s name is Axel.

Somehow, Axel knows his name. Roxas. He knows his name and he whispers it as if he is speaking to his one and only God, praise him, Amen. Roxas. And it’s flattering, to say the least, and he wants to ask Axel why he speaks his name in such a way but he finds himself melting from hearing his own name spoken back to him. Roxas. The way he says his name is beautiful, a smooth voice speaking in silk, and it makes him want to be closer to Axel, who he does and does not know. Roxas.

Axel is frustrating. He is frustrating because he is only in dreams. In the morning when he wakes up he expects to see Axel lying next to him, sleeping and claiming the moon and star covered blanket as his own. The blanket would be too small for the taller man and it would leave him bare from the knees down. He expects to see this but he wakes up disappointed each morning, and suddenly he feels a lonely sort of coldness drifting underneath his blanket.

He has never been desperate for sleep. He has always been the type who wants to stay up with his friends, sitting at the top edge of the clock tower while licking obscene amounts of sea-salt.

But lately… Axel…

Lately, he goes to bed as the sun sets, making up lame excuses to his best friendsI’m tired, yawn, I need to get some sleep. And when he gets into his bed he closes his eyes and allows himself to turn the rest of the world off, leaving himself in the recesses of his dreams.

Without fail, Axel stands there, waiting for him. The first thing Axel does is smile and say his name. Roxas. And every time he hears his name being said from Axel’s lips his entire body dissolves, becomes complete mush and spiral falls head first into Axel’s open arms.

And then he says Axel’s name. Axel. He says his name, lets it seductively slide from his tongue and brush against his lips. Axel. And they kiss the way lover’s kiss, the way him and his friends have seen (and gagged at) on TV: spew, spew! They kiss and they touch the way lover’s touch, and had this been TV he and his friends would’ve turn the channel; Pence with a blush on his cheeks, Hayner gagging, and Olette rolling her eyes Boys are silly she would say It’s just a love scene.

There is a feeling of gloved hands stripping away his clothing. It makes his heart pound in his ears because it does and does not feel like his first time. There is an inexperienced nervousness mixed in with a longing sort of anxiousness, a feeling of not tasting this feeling, this man, this Axel in so, so long. Too long he thinks Far too long. There is a feeling of red hair brushing against his chest as Axel slides his lips down, against his legs and in-between, trailing his lips down to his feet and his toes and back up again. He is worshipping him, baptizing him with lips and tongue, making him tremble and cry out his name Axel, gods Axel!

And at that point it does not matter what he does and does not know; logic has given way to Axel’s lips and body. Roxas. All of the black is removed: coat and pants, boots and gloves, and Axel is only clothed in the red of his hair. Roxas. He moves over him, on top of him, his disorderly hair falling over them like a curtain in the breeze. Roxas. And then Axel moves against him, slowly, carefully, teasing him into submission Spread your legs more, more and then oh, my goodness, the feeling of Axel inside of him is bliss wrapped up in a piece of heaven. They move together, and there are all sorts of delicious feelings building up between the two of them. There is a rhythm of gentle thrusts that the two of them have established. Slow movements forward, teasing movements back, whispered kisses and feather-light touches, the steady beat plays on until it becomes ridiculously unbearable.

They kiss, and kiss, and their tongues are sloppy and their hands are frantic. Roxas. And their cries get louder and their breaths get heavier, making their throats hurt and their mouths dry. They have started to move faster, rocking all sensuality out the door in favor of pure, raw sex that robs them of their ability to breathe properly. Roxas, Roxas!

“Axel!”

Axel is frustrating. “Axel?” He is frustrating because he is only in dreams. “Where… where are you?” In the morning when he wakes up he expects to see Axel lying next to him, sleeping and claiming the moon and star covered blanket as his own. “… Axel? Axel!” The blanket would be too small for the taller man and it would leave him bare from the knees down. “Axel!” He expects to see this but he wakes up disappointed each morning…

… and suddenly he feels a lonely sort of coldness drifting underneath his blanket.

And he does, and no longer does not, know why.