KH - Return (Original) Chapter 13
Return chapter 13
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Character: Demyx and Zexion
Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance
Rating: MA+ / NC-17
Chapters: 13/13
Beta: Roanam
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts rights belong to Square Enix and Disney. This piece of fiction is fan-made and as such I am making no monetary profits off of this
Chapter Thirteen: December of 2010
…
The Exception Laws XIII
Signs designated by the city must be posted on a Hybrid's front door listing occupations, names, and previous discrepancies with the law.
…
December first, Demyx was faced with something that he found very odd when he came home. It was a situation he had never considered.
“It's not my fault!” Zexion defended, curled up much like a cat on the ground. This confused the blond. He saw nothing wrong. His boyfriend's tail and ears didn't help the illusion, instead cementing the idea deep in the blond's mind, but this was nothing new. What could the younger boy be talking about? With an armful of homework, the blond simply stood in his room's doorway. It was then that the younger boy padded over to him on all fours, tail waving back and forth in his wake. It was then that Demyx realized just what might be going on.
“Zexion,” he began, almost in shock. “You can't walk, can you?”
The boy shook his head.
“Is this normal?”
“Yeah.”
A long, bitter silence passed after this, and Demyx's eyes were drawn to the boy's structure. He noticed the boy's spine was curved a bit more than it should have been. Zexion's form seemed more relaxed as he was, as well. Every bone seemed to settle into the position the boy was in, on all fours in front of him.
And his big, blue eyes seemed worried, but just a touch more at ease than usual.
It was awkward, to say the least. Demyx felt just a touch like a little Welsh boy who had just been caught doing something bad with an animal, except the animal could consent and walk on two feet. Sometimes. Least to say, the young man was having some issues with the whole thing.
“See, since I've been unable to go outside I've missed a few physical therapy appointments. Something that's not quite common knowledge is that Hybrids with the DNA of four-legged animals have bodies aren't made for human walking.”
“Say what?”
“Our bone structure is- hey!” Zexion frowned. What's with that look?”
Demyx, working around his horror-struck expression, managed a short, sweet, “Simple. I'm dating a cat. A kitty cat.”
Silence.
“And he can't dance-dance-dance.”
Zexion rolled his eyes.
…
December tenth dawned bright and snowy, but something of importance was that Demyx was in his room long after dark had fallen. He lay in bed with Zexion, who was staring at the ceiling almost as if with hope that it would come alive and eat him.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“The first thing I'm going to do when I get settled back home is schedule some physical therapy.”
Fixing the boy with a look, Demyx tried to make a connection in his head. “For your walking?”
The Nekojin nodded.
“Why?” When this question seemed to confuse the shorter boy, Demyx continued. “Your body isn't made for it, right?”
“Doesn't matter if my body is made for walking like a cat,” Zexion informed him. “I live like a human. That should be incentive enough. When I feel like walking like a cat, I'll do that. When I want to walk on two feet I want to be able to do it.”
“But why-”
“The toilet wasn't designed with cats in mind, Demyx.”
Demyx, wisely, did not comment.
...
Later that night, Zexion dropped a bombshell.
“I'm having my heat soon.”
The words were said simply and without climax. There was no trembling voice to betray how uneasy he was, or high pitch to reveal his fear. Instead it was a dull, even tone, and because of this Demyx didn't quite understand what was going on at first. And this brings us to the seven stages of Demyx.
First step: Confusion.
The blond blinked. “Wait, what?”
“My heat,” Zexion replied. “You may remember it from last December.” Demyx sputtered.
Second step: Denial.
"But that's not possible,” he gasped.
Fixing the boy with a look, the Nekojin scoffed. “You're kidding, right? It's an annual thing, like a birthday or an anniversary. You think it won't come back just because it's inconvenient?”
Third step: Willingness to listen.
"Well, I guess- yeah... I guess... You're right.”
Zexion rolled his eyes; a motion he'd been doing a lot of lately. “Well, duh. Anyway, we have a few options laid out before us. The first is mating-”
Fourth step: More denial.
"Oh no we don't!” the blond yipped, terrified of the idea itself. “That's- that's like marriage! We'd need to think about it for a hell of a lot longer than that! Marriage isn't some spur of the moment thing that you do on a whim just because it's convenient!”
Zexion glared. "Then what do you suggest?”
Fifth step: Bargaining
"How about we shove you in the closet and leave it at that?”
"Well aren't you romantic?” Zexion snapped. “If we're waiting it out I'll need an IV to keep me hydrated since I won't be able to ingest anything.”
Sixth step: More confusion.
"Where do we get an IV?”
"We have a few at my place.”
Seventh step: Thinly veiled Sarcasm. AKA: He'll do anything to make you shut up so he can get the Hell out of there. Demyx can't handle this shit.
"So we're gonna get you some, is that right?”
"Sounds about right.”
"Zexion, this house is under external video surveillance.”
"Which is why you're going, not me.”
"Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?
…
Two days later, on a Sunday, Demyx couldn't help but think just how wrong it was to approach Zexion's house when no one was there.
No Zexion leading him through halls, no evasive father-of-the-boyfriend lurking in dark corners and possible basements. No smell of cookies wafting through the neighborhood.
No Helen telling him everything would be all-right before running off to make poisonous cookies and tell people they didn't matter. (He idly considered the possibility that one year she would place herself on “Santa Doesn't Exist” duty. She'd certainly be good at it. “Santa doesn't exist!” she'd say to some random child who had thrown an egg at her door. “Oh- don't cry. It's all going to be okay, honey. Here- have a cookie!” Then she'd give the kid a Mako-laced cookie and watch them have seizures on the floor with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. And although this was a highly exaggerated form of events, seeing as she would never give a human Mako, let alone a small child, it still terrified him.)
Wiping this thought from his head, Demyx circled the house until he faced Zexion's window. Climbing the piping along the side of the house to the window, he pressed a palm against the glass and pushed upwards. It slid open easy until a point, stalling halfway up and sticking there. Satisfied that it wasn't going anywhere, Demyx squeezed in, suddenly so much more thankful for the effect of Mako in his veins. Gone was the baby-fat that clung to everything, and in its place was a solid line of lithe muscle. It helped with things he never expected. Things like breaking into his boyfriend's house.
Once safely inside, the boy glanced around. Fishing in his pocket, he brought out a list. At the top read, “Clothes: labeled dresser in room.”
“We couldn't get them sooner?” Demyx sighed, glancing around the room for the aforementioned dresser. Locating the wooden monstrosity- and it was a monstrosity, being that shade of brilliant bubblegum pink, which was no doubt Helen's doing and the boy, wondered just how he never noticed it before- he read the labels. From top to bottom they read: hats, shirts, pants, pants, underwear. To be sure he hadn't read the same label twice; Demyx opened both the drawers labeled pants. Yup. Pants.
Two pairs of pants were shoved into his backpack, along with three shirts and two hats. Peering at the label for underwear, Demyx thought for a second. How many pairs of underwear? Space was limited, but Zexion might not want to re-wear boxers, even though he may be willing to work with wearing the same pants over and over again.In the end he grabbed four pair, hoping that the situation would settle down soon but not wanting to be caught unaware.
Nabbing the boy's ID card from the desk and shoving it between the pants, he moved on to pillows. Navigating the interior of the house thanks to a small map Zexion had managed to draw on the corner of the paper, Demyx successfully located more than ten pillows, which he placed in a vacuum bag, which he sealed shut and proceeded to jump on for about an hour to get the air out. Up, down, up, down. Make sure not to wear shoes. Don't land on the zipper- it doesn't like feet.
All in all, fun, but exhausting.
Now came the slightly disturbing part.
The basement.
Demyx did not like basements.
…
Zexion's heat began on the fourteenth with what he had figured would be the usual drill for the rest of his life. Itching, all over his body, then the chills that would wrack his form from head to toe until he was in a dead sweat. He knew he had minutes before he lost his sanity. Everything had already been set up in the closet, as much as Zexion dreaded it, and within seconds he was at the door, clawing at the handle and forcing it open.
The first thing the boy did was grab the IV and force it into his arm with the ease that years of practice. It was thinner than the needles used for Mako injections, thankfully, and went in clean as opposed to the massaging and prodding that he usually dealt with. It was almost a relief, and for a second the Nekojin stared at where the needle prodded through his skin in confusion. Where was the blood? Where was the initial pain? Did the size of the needle really matter?
But he couldn't dwell on it forever, and before long he was working with the restraints for his legs. They had been nailed to the wall, buried deep in a stud, and fastened around his ankles. The leather was soft, and unusually flexible. Were they his mother's?
He didn't want to think about that.
In an attempt to get the thought out of his head, he tied the makeshift torso-brace- a belt nailed into the same stud- around his waist, shortly followed by his left wrist. Preparing himself, his free arm reached out to close the door. When the knob was out of his reach he panicked. Taking a few deep breathes didn't help; they only itched and already began to reek of his pheromones. It was a metaphorical slap in the face if there ever was one. Thinking fast, he pressed hard against the inside of the door on the flat area just beside the hinges. Slowly, the door creaked closed. It seemed like eternity, waiting for the door, but eventually the knob was close enough to grab.
And everything was black.
The pillows itched.
But it was not a moment to panic. Instead, he waited for his night vision to kick in and used it to affix his right wrist. And from there he could only wait. And yet, he didn't dread it. Time would pass quickly while he was in heat. He was practically asleep for the whole thing, anyway. The entire thing wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be. He'd survived it once, he'd survive it again.
These lies were his comfort in the moments before the first true wave of heat hit, and then everything was spinning. His body seemed to be on fire, and his breath came in pants. There wasn't enough oxygen! He needed water! Every part of his burned and itched and sprang to life with every brush against cotton. Excruciating pleasure, blissful pain- he couldn't tell which it was. He just needed. With every part of his being he needed.
Slowly his sanity slipped away from him, and everything was sensation. There was no controlling the heat. There was only satisfying or surviving it.
In the first wave, Zexion didn't know if he could handle the latter for a second time.
…
When Demyx arrived home he didn't know what to think aside from, “Thank God it's not Friday.” Immediately when he walked into the house he nearly choked on the pink fog that clouded his brain. He could just barely manage the hope that his parents weren't home to smell it yet. He wondered idly if he could handle himself in the face of the Nekojin in his closet, in the first burst of heat and in a committed relationship with him.
Hopefully the boy had made it to the closet.
Almost immediately Demyx raced up the stairs and to his room, suddenly afraid that Zexion hadn't made it to the closet at all. That would be terrible. The blond wasn't ready for the kind of commitment!
But if the smaller boy offered him sex he wouldn't be able to turn him down.
Face to face with his bedroom door, Demyx considered the pluses and minuses of actually going inside. He could always air out the rest of the house and sleep on the couch for a week. But then who would change Zexion's IV? The Easter bunny? Santa? Xion? She couldn't even make it up the stairs!
Steeling himself for the worst, he threw open the door and stepped inside.
A wave of pheromones assaulted him, but nothing else of note actually happened. He kept his eyes clenched shut anyway. Eventually, when nothing had continued to happen for a good five or so minutes he peeked beneath his lashes into the room. Empty. Heaving a sigh of relief, he glanced over to the closet. Closed. He walked over and pressed an ear to it.
Nothing.
Then a long, drawn out, incredibly exciting moan.
Demyx clenched his eyes and willed the next few days to pass quickly, along with his erection.
Sadly, neither complied.
…
On the sixteenth of December it began snowing at noon. Heavy, fat flakes drifted to the ground and clung to the pavement, prompting street sweepers to hit the roads with vigor. It was on this day that Demyx was called back into the room where the man with piercing eyes sat just where he'd left him. When he arrived this second time the old man was looking over what he could only imagine was a revised version of the list he'd been reading during Demyx's previous visit. No words were spoken when the teen entered, nor when he sat down. A heavy silence settled over the pair, and the blond was soon shifting in his seat. After about ten minutes of this, Demyx choked out the beginnings of a question. “Sir-”
"Please, call me Mr. Xehanort,” the man warmly informed him. The effect fell short however and instead of putting him at ease the blond found himself on edge.
"Mr. Xehanort,” he quietly began, almost tripping over the strange syllables. “Isn't there a reason I was called down here?”
The man fidgeted with the papers a bit more before answering. “Yes, there is.” These words, usually chased by some other line, were left to rot in the spoiling atmosphere.
Demyx nervously played with the hem of his shirt. “Sir?”
"Are you aware of the current affairs pending with the Committee?”
Confusion, among other things, painted the boy's face. “The Committee, sir?”
"The Hybrid Committee.”
"No, sir.”
Mr. Xehanort placed one pile of papers beside another, inched them closer, and shuffled them. “Do you feign ignorance as to the Committee's inner workings?”
The directness of the question was appalling. Demyx knew a masked implication when he heard one, and this accusation put no happy images before it. “You can't expect me to feign ignorance about something I don't know about.”
"Come now, Demyx.” The use of his first name appalled the blond, and the old man's grin wasn't any more reassuring. “We're all friends here. There's no logic in protecting those who break the law.”
Eyes narrowing, Demyx leveled a glare at his interrogator. “Just what are you saying here?”
Mr. Xehanort's grin dropped. “Have you ever been to a party with more than twelve Hybrids?” This comment was met with silence. “Have you ever asked Zexion if he was carrying his identification card when he came over to your house? Or when you were on a date?” No response. “Do you realize just what that card is?”
Demyx shrugged. “Identification?”
"A tracking device, Mr. Mizuchi.” Demyx's could feel his heart rise into his throat, but it seemed to drop into his stomach at the same time. It was silly. How could his heart be two places at once? “Tell me, just what were you doing at the Hybrid's house?” There was the same look from earlier- the expectant grin. Demyx imagined that another teenager would have blurted out some half-formed lie that wouldn't hold up beneath the man, but that wouldn't have lasted long. “What could you possibly need his ID card for?”
Demyx bristled. “Why shouldn't I get some of his stuff? People in that neighborhood don't like Hybrids. Have you seen their front door? It's solid metal, bit it has a bunch of dents in it. Some of those are actually bullet holes. His stuff wouldn't be safe there for long if they weren't there.”
"Things can be replaced.”
"Memories attached to them can't.”
The man's grin grew. “I can imagine a great many things could hold memories, then. Stuffed animals, blankets, and even fresh needles or identification cards.”
Demyx glared. “So you bugged the place.”
"Of course!” Mr. Xehanort drawled, appearing to the teen to be bored of the conversation. It was perhaps the first real emotion he'd seen the man portray. “It wouldn't be much of a trap if it wasn't.”
"What do you even want?”
"He's in your closet. Am I right?”
This was when Demyx ran out of words.
…
Walking into his room on the seventeenth had begun with news. A press conference for the Exceptions Committee would be held on the following Monday. It would no doubt enthrall Zexion, even in his current state. But when he stepped into the room, braced for the wave of pheromones that would overwhelm his consciousness and leave him a babbling idiot, he was shocked to find that there was no such wave. Instead, there was a gentler lull of something subtle.
A quick sweep of the house provided that no one was at home. Xion wouldn't be back from physical therapy with Ms. Crescent for another two hours, and Luxord was at work until she came home.
Finally, Demyx threw open the closet.
There was Zexion, restrained and surrounded by pillows. He looked paler than usual. Three days of no food or sunlight with only an IV for nourishment had taken their toll. The boy looked shaken, at the very least. Periwinkle hair was plastered to his forehead, and when he went to meet his eyes he found the boy to be sleeping. For a moment it occurred to Demyx that he might be dead, but when he placed a finger beneath the boy's nose he was still breathing. Reaching for his gloves, the blond moved to shake the boy away, only to pause. While unconscious Zexion wouldn't produce pheromones.
He couldn't miss this chance. And so he sat down, watching Zexion sleep for what seemed to be the millionth time.
A very slight jawline and a pointed nose were his main features, though they were overshadowed by his eyes which, though closed, were bruised with a lack of proper sleep. Sweat had stained everything the boy wore, and it occurred to Demyx that the boy would want to change when he woke from his stupor. Then they would go about life as usual, until they eventually got into some big fight when they didn't have the resistance keeping them together, or when they moved away, or one of them went to college. Then they would break up and life would be as he knew it before Zexion had happened.
That was about when it really hit Demyx.
He didn't want to break up with Zexion. Ever.
Time seemed to slow for the teen, and he considered the possibility of a future with the Nekojin. Continuing life together with him for the rest of their days. And in that moment that was stretching into forever and eternity he wanted nothing more than to be together with the young man standing tied up in his closet.
As bad as that sounded.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, undoing all the restraints on the boy. It was then that Zexion began to stir, mumbling into his shoulder as he hoisted him onto his shoulder and made his way towards the bed. Only one word could be made out. “Demyx-?”
Gently setting the boy on the spread, the blond silenced him with a soft kiss. Soon there was another, and another, and within seconds the Nekojin was kissing him back with fervor. All of him burned for the shorter boy, and every brush of skin magnified everything until the world was a blur.
But then in was crystal clear.
Zexion began pushing at the blond's shirt, eager to get it off as soon as possible. There was a fair bit of fumbling, but eventually it came off. Fingers smoothed across the plane of bare skin, claws slightly extended and teasing the edge between safety and blood. Demyx found his body responding before he knew it, the excitement going straight through him. It seemed like a bare few seconds before Zexion was writhing beneath him, attempting to get his clothes off. Once or twice an elbow almost collided with Demyx's face, but the endeavor was successful. Then the boy was working at the blond's pants, and Demyx was so busy laying kisses along his boyfriend's jawline that he wasn't aware of it until they were gone, thrown somewhere on the other side of the room.
Fumbling for the edge of the mattress, the taller boy retrieved a half-empty bottle of lube. Soon his underwear was shucked, and he began to apply a generous amount to his fingers. Making sure they were slicked well enough, he inserted one finger between the smaller boy's cheeks. Squirming, Zexion make a noise of discomfort. Taking this as a cue, the blond curled his finger and began to wander.
“Demyx!” The gasp took him by surprise, and for a bit he made sure to abuse the spot. Once or twice he dragged the back of his nail against it, which drew a series of profanities from the boy. He added another finger, and was surprised to find that the little ring of muscle didn't spasm as much as usual.
It was time.
Bringing himself face to face with the boy, Demyx carefully pressed his length to the Nekojin's entrance. He lay a kiss against Zexion's cheek, receiving an affectionate nudge from the boy's nose for his trouble. Gently, he began to enter.
All of a sudden everything switched, and Zexion was on top, plunging all the way down with vigor. The two gasped, and soon set a blistering pace that was doomed to end quickly. Not long after Demyx couldn't tell the ceiling from the floor, and all the mattered was Zexion. Kissing him, touching him, and bending down to whisper words that weren't properly formed in his ear like pillow talk. Eventually, when they had finished and the boy had fallen to the bed beside him, he made out a few words. They were slurred and weak with the exertion of sex, and seemed to carry the weight of the Heat from Zexion's body as he spoke them.
“I can't believe... you... love you so much.” The Nekojin nibbled at his ear, then twined their legs together. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...” He thanked Demyx for a while, and only the blond's prompting did he breathe.
After that they laughed, holding each other and basking in the afterglow. Something seemed to have forged between them, and for a second Demyx swore he could hear Zexion's thoughts, but it turned out to be the boy's whispers, which seemed all the more intimate. This was forever. It wasn't some fling with someone from school- it was a permanent bond that would keep them connected for the rest of their lives. It scared Demyx more than anything.
But it was worth it, and that's all that really mattered.
…
The twentieth arrived.
“Please welcome to the board Dr. Lucrecia Crescent.”
Demyx looked up at the television screen, where none other than Ms. Crescent took the stage with a winning smile. “Well would you look at that?” Xion mused from Demyx's side. “Ms. Crescent is on the board!”
“It is a privilege and an honor to be undertaking the title of Chairwoman of the Exceptions Committee. I must take into consideration the actions of the past, and act on what would be best for the people. However, it has recently come to my attention that-”
…
“I would like to thank everyone who participated with me in the Project for Change. It is at this time that social boundaries must be challenged, and with this in mind we must revolutionize our thinking-”
“-The Exception Laws are cruel and are imposed without reason-”
“-from this time forward are to be removed from use-”
…
"Not fair!” Riku complained. “While I was off at college you guys were busy making history! No wonder Sora never had time to talk on the phone.”
Demyx scoffed. “What else were we supposed to do? While you've been off at college we needed a distraction from the lack of the Great and Almighty Presence of King Riku. It just so happened that we repealed thirteen laws along the way.”
"It's not hard, changing the world and all that Jazz,” Sora agreed, butting his head against his boyfriend's chin. The two were cuddled together very comfortably on the couch beside Naminé and Kairi, who were just as familiar with each other as the boys. On the loveseat Zexion lay across Demyx's lap, the blond petting his hair and ears with gentle strokes. His fingers played with the strands, comparing the periwinkle with his tanned skin. And something was alight deep in those green eyes, leaving the smaller boy curious as to what it meant.
The party was in full swing around them, despite it being a good three hours before New Years, and they had to speak over the noise. They all had cups of some sort of punch- thankfully Mako-free- and were sipping from them. Refreshments littered the coffee table. “So,” Riku continued, “all the political mumbo-jumbo was left to Ms. Crescent? You guys just followed orders?”
Kairi had just taken a sip from her drink, but swallowed it quickly with a noise to respond. She hadn't gotten much of a chance to speak, seeing as she had been on delivery duty like Zexion and didn't have as direct a hand as Demyx. “Pretty much. Most of the time things are set up for us beforehand, like when Demyx had to take those pictures for proof before that one Exceptions guy- Xehanort- could mess with the evidence.”
Grimacing, Demyx wondered aloud, “Oh- right. Him. What happened to that guy anyway?” They were all quiet for a bit, the party moving around them. It was almost as if they were a random boulder in the middle of a river.
"Pretty sure Ms. Crescent fired him,” Naminé mumbled.
Demyx hummed. “Makes sense.”
...
With midnight fast approaching, and the New Year with it, Zexion and Demyx lay curled up on the blonde’s bed, already having sneaked away from celebratory party and come home. They occasionally glanced over to the clock, but mostly stared at the ceiling.
"It's gonna be a new year,” Zexion noted, breathe coming in puffs. They had left the window open, and the room was a frigid twenty degrees. “Wonder what's gonna happen.”
"Dunno,” the older boy mused. “Maybe we'll make history, maybe not. Probably look into some colleges, take a few pictures...” Cracking his knuckles, he pulled the blanket tighter around him. “Guess we'll just have to find out.” A small chuckle and a period of comfortable silence followed. They lay together for what seemed like forever, not minding a bit. Finally, after a while of nothing, Demyx mused, “It's almost midnight.”
Grinning, Zexion made a noise of acknowledgment before going to stretch. His boyfriend watched on in amusement as the Hybrid's arm collided with the clock. It fell to the ground with a clatter, startling the smaller boy. The movement amused Demyx, but when the Nekojin went to grab the device he stopped him.
"Leave it,” he advised. The younger boy stared for a second, already having freed himself from his blanket. He was standing, and half-bent to grab the clock. “C'mon- get back here.”
Confused by curious, Zexion consented, leaving the clock on the floor and climbing back into bed with the blond. “What's up?”
Demyx grinned. “No clocks tonight,” he informed the boy. “Let's just make sure we hit midnight.” Then he bent forward to engage the Hybrid in a gentle kiss, taking him into his hold and burying his hands in the boy's hair. After his surprise abated, Zexion wound his arms around Demyx's waist and resolved to never let go.
They fell asleep like that, tangled in each others' arms. The bond burned through their veins, still new and keeping things far from dull. Whether they made it to midnight or not is anyone's guess, but the next year at that same time they made sure to kiss at the end of the countdown. Their relationship up until then had been unusually mature, and they resented missing out on the famous mistakes of a High School relationship. So they decided to make up for it in the coming years by whining, arguing, and rolling their eyes at the stupidest, most inconsequential things, and blowing up at each other just because they could. These were all shortly followed by laughter.
The two men eventually moved away. But they came home every year to spend time with everyone who had helped them come together. Celebrations were had whenever possible, and for the silliest reasons, to get them into town. Demyx and Zexion were there for everyone. Not because they couldn't stand to go a month without their childhood friends, or that they were especially attached to their parents. It's because there was a point to be made.
They returned because they could.
And that was all there was to it.
The End
Love,
Besieged Infection
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Character: Demyx and Zexion
Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance
Rating: MA+ / NC-17
Chapters: 13/13
Beta: Roanam
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts rights belong to Square Enix and Disney. This piece of fiction is fan-made and as such I am making no monetary profits off of this
Chapter Thirteen: December of 2010
…
The Exception Laws XIII
Signs designated by the city must be posted on a Hybrid's front door listing occupations, names, and previous discrepancies with the law.
…
December first, Demyx was faced with something that he found very odd when he came home. It was a situation he had never considered.
“It's not my fault!” Zexion defended, curled up much like a cat on the ground. This confused the blond. He saw nothing wrong. His boyfriend's tail and ears didn't help the illusion, instead cementing the idea deep in the blond's mind, but this was nothing new. What could the younger boy be talking about? With an armful of homework, the blond simply stood in his room's doorway. It was then that the younger boy padded over to him on all fours, tail waving back and forth in his wake. It was then that Demyx realized just what might be going on.
“Zexion,” he began, almost in shock. “You can't walk, can you?”
The boy shook his head.
“Is this normal?”
“Yeah.”
A long, bitter silence passed after this, and Demyx's eyes were drawn to the boy's structure. He noticed the boy's spine was curved a bit more than it should have been. Zexion's form seemed more relaxed as he was, as well. Every bone seemed to settle into the position the boy was in, on all fours in front of him.
And his big, blue eyes seemed worried, but just a touch more at ease than usual.
It was awkward, to say the least. Demyx felt just a touch like a little Welsh boy who had just been caught doing something bad with an animal, except the animal could consent and walk on two feet. Sometimes. Least to say, the young man was having some issues with the whole thing.
“See, since I've been unable to go outside I've missed a few physical therapy appointments. Something that's not quite common knowledge is that Hybrids with the DNA of four-legged animals have bodies aren't made for human walking.”
“Say what?”
“Our bone structure is- hey!” Zexion frowned. What's with that look?”
Demyx, working around his horror-struck expression, managed a short, sweet, “Simple. I'm dating a cat. A kitty cat.”
Silence.
“And he can't dance-dance-dance.”
Zexion rolled his eyes.
…
December tenth dawned bright and snowy, but something of importance was that Demyx was in his room long after dark had fallen. He lay in bed with Zexion, who was staring at the ceiling almost as if with hope that it would come alive and eat him.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“The first thing I'm going to do when I get settled back home is schedule some physical therapy.”
Fixing the boy with a look, Demyx tried to make a connection in his head. “For your walking?”
The Nekojin nodded.
“Why?” When this question seemed to confuse the shorter boy, Demyx continued. “Your body isn't made for it, right?”
“Doesn't matter if my body is made for walking like a cat,” Zexion informed him. “I live like a human. That should be incentive enough. When I feel like walking like a cat, I'll do that. When I want to walk on two feet I want to be able to do it.”
“But why-”
“The toilet wasn't designed with cats in mind, Demyx.”
Demyx, wisely, did not comment.
...
Later that night, Zexion dropped a bombshell.
“I'm having my heat soon.”
The words were said simply and without climax. There was no trembling voice to betray how uneasy he was, or high pitch to reveal his fear. Instead it was a dull, even tone, and because of this Demyx didn't quite understand what was going on at first. And this brings us to the seven stages of Demyx.
First step: Confusion.
The blond blinked. “Wait, what?”
“My heat,” Zexion replied. “You may remember it from last December.” Demyx sputtered.
Second step: Denial.
"But that's not possible,” he gasped.
Fixing the boy with a look, the Nekojin scoffed. “You're kidding, right? It's an annual thing, like a birthday or an anniversary. You think it won't come back just because it's inconvenient?”
Third step: Willingness to listen.
"Well, I guess- yeah... I guess... You're right.”
Zexion rolled his eyes; a motion he'd been doing a lot of lately. “Well, duh. Anyway, we have a few options laid out before us. The first is mating-”
Fourth step: More denial.
"Oh no we don't!” the blond yipped, terrified of the idea itself. “That's- that's like marriage! We'd need to think about it for a hell of a lot longer than that! Marriage isn't some spur of the moment thing that you do on a whim just because it's convenient!”
Zexion glared. "Then what do you suggest?”
Fifth step: Bargaining
"How about we shove you in the closet and leave it at that?”
"Well aren't you romantic?” Zexion snapped. “If we're waiting it out I'll need an IV to keep me hydrated since I won't be able to ingest anything.”
Sixth step: More confusion.
"Where do we get an IV?”
"We have a few at my place.”
Seventh step: Thinly veiled Sarcasm. AKA: He'll do anything to make you shut up so he can get the Hell out of there. Demyx can't handle this shit.
"So we're gonna get you some, is that right?”
"Sounds about right.”
"Zexion, this house is under external video surveillance.”
"Which is why you're going, not me.”
"Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?
…
Two days later, on a Sunday, Demyx couldn't help but think just how wrong it was to approach Zexion's house when no one was there.
No Zexion leading him through halls, no evasive father-of-the-boyfriend lurking in dark corners and possible basements. No smell of cookies wafting through the neighborhood.
No Helen telling him everything would be all-right before running off to make poisonous cookies and tell people they didn't matter. (He idly considered the possibility that one year she would place herself on “Santa Doesn't Exist” duty. She'd certainly be good at it. “Santa doesn't exist!” she'd say to some random child who had thrown an egg at her door. “Oh- don't cry. It's all going to be okay, honey. Here- have a cookie!” Then she'd give the kid a Mako-laced cookie and watch them have seizures on the floor with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. And although this was a highly exaggerated form of events, seeing as she would never give a human Mako, let alone a small child, it still terrified him.)
Wiping this thought from his head, Demyx circled the house until he faced Zexion's window. Climbing the piping along the side of the house to the window, he pressed a palm against the glass and pushed upwards. It slid open easy until a point, stalling halfway up and sticking there. Satisfied that it wasn't going anywhere, Demyx squeezed in, suddenly so much more thankful for the effect of Mako in his veins. Gone was the baby-fat that clung to everything, and in its place was a solid line of lithe muscle. It helped with things he never expected. Things like breaking into his boyfriend's house.
Once safely inside, the boy glanced around. Fishing in his pocket, he brought out a list. At the top read, “Clothes: labeled dresser in room.”
“We couldn't get them sooner?” Demyx sighed, glancing around the room for the aforementioned dresser. Locating the wooden monstrosity- and it was a monstrosity, being that shade of brilliant bubblegum pink, which was no doubt Helen's doing and the boy, wondered just how he never noticed it before- he read the labels. From top to bottom they read: hats, shirts, pants, pants, underwear. To be sure he hadn't read the same label twice; Demyx opened both the drawers labeled pants. Yup. Pants.
Two pairs of pants were shoved into his backpack, along with three shirts and two hats. Peering at the label for underwear, Demyx thought for a second. How many pairs of underwear? Space was limited, but Zexion might not want to re-wear boxers, even though he may be willing to work with wearing the same pants over and over again.In the end he grabbed four pair, hoping that the situation would settle down soon but not wanting to be caught unaware.
Nabbing the boy's ID card from the desk and shoving it between the pants, he moved on to pillows. Navigating the interior of the house thanks to a small map Zexion had managed to draw on the corner of the paper, Demyx successfully located more than ten pillows, which he placed in a vacuum bag, which he sealed shut and proceeded to jump on for about an hour to get the air out. Up, down, up, down. Make sure not to wear shoes. Don't land on the zipper- it doesn't like feet.
All in all, fun, but exhausting.
Now came the slightly disturbing part.
The basement.
Demyx did not like basements.
…
Zexion's heat began on the fourteenth with what he had figured would be the usual drill for the rest of his life. Itching, all over his body, then the chills that would wrack his form from head to toe until he was in a dead sweat. He knew he had minutes before he lost his sanity. Everything had already been set up in the closet, as much as Zexion dreaded it, and within seconds he was at the door, clawing at the handle and forcing it open.
The first thing the boy did was grab the IV and force it into his arm with the ease that years of practice. It was thinner than the needles used for Mako injections, thankfully, and went in clean as opposed to the massaging and prodding that he usually dealt with. It was almost a relief, and for a second the Nekojin stared at where the needle prodded through his skin in confusion. Where was the blood? Where was the initial pain? Did the size of the needle really matter?
But he couldn't dwell on it forever, and before long he was working with the restraints for his legs. They had been nailed to the wall, buried deep in a stud, and fastened around his ankles. The leather was soft, and unusually flexible. Were they his mother's?
He didn't want to think about that.
In an attempt to get the thought out of his head, he tied the makeshift torso-brace- a belt nailed into the same stud- around his waist, shortly followed by his left wrist. Preparing himself, his free arm reached out to close the door. When the knob was out of his reach he panicked. Taking a few deep breathes didn't help; they only itched and already began to reek of his pheromones. It was a metaphorical slap in the face if there ever was one. Thinking fast, he pressed hard against the inside of the door on the flat area just beside the hinges. Slowly, the door creaked closed. It seemed like eternity, waiting for the door, but eventually the knob was close enough to grab.
And everything was black.
The pillows itched.
But it was not a moment to panic. Instead, he waited for his night vision to kick in and used it to affix his right wrist. And from there he could only wait. And yet, he didn't dread it. Time would pass quickly while he was in heat. He was practically asleep for the whole thing, anyway. The entire thing wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be. He'd survived it once, he'd survive it again.
These lies were his comfort in the moments before the first true wave of heat hit, and then everything was spinning. His body seemed to be on fire, and his breath came in pants. There wasn't enough oxygen! He needed water! Every part of his burned and itched and sprang to life with every brush against cotton. Excruciating pleasure, blissful pain- he couldn't tell which it was. He just needed. With every part of his being he needed.
Slowly his sanity slipped away from him, and everything was sensation. There was no controlling the heat. There was only satisfying or surviving it.
In the first wave, Zexion didn't know if he could handle the latter for a second time.
…
When Demyx arrived home he didn't know what to think aside from, “Thank God it's not Friday.” Immediately when he walked into the house he nearly choked on the pink fog that clouded his brain. He could just barely manage the hope that his parents weren't home to smell it yet. He wondered idly if he could handle himself in the face of the Nekojin in his closet, in the first burst of heat and in a committed relationship with him.
Hopefully the boy had made it to the closet.
Almost immediately Demyx raced up the stairs and to his room, suddenly afraid that Zexion hadn't made it to the closet at all. That would be terrible. The blond wasn't ready for the kind of commitment!
But if the smaller boy offered him sex he wouldn't be able to turn him down.
Face to face with his bedroom door, Demyx considered the pluses and minuses of actually going inside. He could always air out the rest of the house and sleep on the couch for a week. But then who would change Zexion's IV? The Easter bunny? Santa? Xion? She couldn't even make it up the stairs!
Steeling himself for the worst, he threw open the door and stepped inside.
A wave of pheromones assaulted him, but nothing else of note actually happened. He kept his eyes clenched shut anyway. Eventually, when nothing had continued to happen for a good five or so minutes he peeked beneath his lashes into the room. Empty. Heaving a sigh of relief, he glanced over to the closet. Closed. He walked over and pressed an ear to it.
Nothing.
Then a long, drawn out, incredibly exciting moan.
Demyx clenched his eyes and willed the next few days to pass quickly, along with his erection.
Sadly, neither complied.
…
On the sixteenth of December it began snowing at noon. Heavy, fat flakes drifted to the ground and clung to the pavement, prompting street sweepers to hit the roads with vigor. It was on this day that Demyx was called back into the room where the man with piercing eyes sat just where he'd left him. When he arrived this second time the old man was looking over what he could only imagine was a revised version of the list he'd been reading during Demyx's previous visit. No words were spoken when the teen entered, nor when he sat down. A heavy silence settled over the pair, and the blond was soon shifting in his seat. After about ten minutes of this, Demyx choked out the beginnings of a question. “Sir-”
"Please, call me Mr. Xehanort,” the man warmly informed him. The effect fell short however and instead of putting him at ease the blond found himself on edge.
"Mr. Xehanort,” he quietly began, almost tripping over the strange syllables. “Isn't there a reason I was called down here?”
The man fidgeted with the papers a bit more before answering. “Yes, there is.” These words, usually chased by some other line, were left to rot in the spoiling atmosphere.
Demyx nervously played with the hem of his shirt. “Sir?”
"Are you aware of the current affairs pending with the Committee?”
Confusion, among other things, painted the boy's face. “The Committee, sir?”
"The Hybrid Committee.”
"No, sir.”
Mr. Xehanort placed one pile of papers beside another, inched them closer, and shuffled them. “Do you feign ignorance as to the Committee's inner workings?”
The directness of the question was appalling. Demyx knew a masked implication when he heard one, and this accusation put no happy images before it. “You can't expect me to feign ignorance about something I don't know about.”
"Come now, Demyx.” The use of his first name appalled the blond, and the old man's grin wasn't any more reassuring. “We're all friends here. There's no logic in protecting those who break the law.”
Eyes narrowing, Demyx leveled a glare at his interrogator. “Just what are you saying here?”
Mr. Xehanort's grin dropped. “Have you ever been to a party with more than twelve Hybrids?” This comment was met with silence. “Have you ever asked Zexion if he was carrying his identification card when he came over to your house? Or when you were on a date?” No response. “Do you realize just what that card is?”
Demyx shrugged. “Identification?”
"A tracking device, Mr. Mizuchi.” Demyx's could feel his heart rise into his throat, but it seemed to drop into his stomach at the same time. It was silly. How could his heart be two places at once? “Tell me, just what were you doing at the Hybrid's house?” There was the same look from earlier- the expectant grin. Demyx imagined that another teenager would have blurted out some half-formed lie that wouldn't hold up beneath the man, but that wouldn't have lasted long. “What could you possibly need his ID card for?”
Demyx bristled. “Why shouldn't I get some of his stuff? People in that neighborhood don't like Hybrids. Have you seen their front door? It's solid metal, bit it has a bunch of dents in it. Some of those are actually bullet holes. His stuff wouldn't be safe there for long if they weren't there.”
"Things can be replaced.”
"Memories attached to them can't.”
The man's grin grew. “I can imagine a great many things could hold memories, then. Stuffed animals, blankets, and even fresh needles or identification cards.”
Demyx glared. “So you bugged the place.”
"Of course!” Mr. Xehanort drawled, appearing to the teen to be bored of the conversation. It was perhaps the first real emotion he'd seen the man portray. “It wouldn't be much of a trap if it wasn't.”
"What do you even want?”
"He's in your closet. Am I right?”
This was when Demyx ran out of words.
…
Walking into his room on the seventeenth had begun with news. A press conference for the Exceptions Committee would be held on the following Monday. It would no doubt enthrall Zexion, even in his current state. But when he stepped into the room, braced for the wave of pheromones that would overwhelm his consciousness and leave him a babbling idiot, he was shocked to find that there was no such wave. Instead, there was a gentler lull of something subtle.
A quick sweep of the house provided that no one was at home. Xion wouldn't be back from physical therapy with Ms. Crescent for another two hours, and Luxord was at work until she came home.
Finally, Demyx threw open the closet.
There was Zexion, restrained and surrounded by pillows. He looked paler than usual. Three days of no food or sunlight with only an IV for nourishment had taken their toll. The boy looked shaken, at the very least. Periwinkle hair was plastered to his forehead, and when he went to meet his eyes he found the boy to be sleeping. For a moment it occurred to Demyx that he might be dead, but when he placed a finger beneath the boy's nose he was still breathing. Reaching for his gloves, the blond moved to shake the boy away, only to pause. While unconscious Zexion wouldn't produce pheromones.
He couldn't miss this chance. And so he sat down, watching Zexion sleep for what seemed to be the millionth time.
A very slight jawline and a pointed nose were his main features, though they were overshadowed by his eyes which, though closed, were bruised with a lack of proper sleep. Sweat had stained everything the boy wore, and it occurred to Demyx that the boy would want to change when he woke from his stupor. Then they would go about life as usual, until they eventually got into some big fight when they didn't have the resistance keeping them together, or when they moved away, or one of them went to college. Then they would break up and life would be as he knew it before Zexion had happened.
That was about when it really hit Demyx.
He didn't want to break up with Zexion. Ever.
Time seemed to slow for the teen, and he considered the possibility of a future with the Nekojin. Continuing life together with him for the rest of their days. And in that moment that was stretching into forever and eternity he wanted nothing more than to be together with the young man standing tied up in his closet.
As bad as that sounded.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, undoing all the restraints on the boy. It was then that Zexion began to stir, mumbling into his shoulder as he hoisted him onto his shoulder and made his way towards the bed. Only one word could be made out. “Demyx-?”
Gently setting the boy on the spread, the blond silenced him with a soft kiss. Soon there was another, and another, and within seconds the Nekojin was kissing him back with fervor. All of him burned for the shorter boy, and every brush of skin magnified everything until the world was a blur.
But then in was crystal clear.
Zexion began pushing at the blond's shirt, eager to get it off as soon as possible. There was a fair bit of fumbling, but eventually it came off. Fingers smoothed across the plane of bare skin, claws slightly extended and teasing the edge between safety and blood. Demyx found his body responding before he knew it, the excitement going straight through him. It seemed like a bare few seconds before Zexion was writhing beneath him, attempting to get his clothes off. Once or twice an elbow almost collided with Demyx's face, but the endeavor was successful. Then the boy was working at the blond's pants, and Demyx was so busy laying kisses along his boyfriend's jawline that he wasn't aware of it until they were gone, thrown somewhere on the other side of the room.
Fumbling for the edge of the mattress, the taller boy retrieved a half-empty bottle of lube. Soon his underwear was shucked, and he began to apply a generous amount to his fingers. Making sure they were slicked well enough, he inserted one finger between the smaller boy's cheeks. Squirming, Zexion make a noise of discomfort. Taking this as a cue, the blond curled his finger and began to wander.
“Demyx!” The gasp took him by surprise, and for a bit he made sure to abuse the spot. Once or twice he dragged the back of his nail against it, which drew a series of profanities from the boy. He added another finger, and was surprised to find that the little ring of muscle didn't spasm as much as usual.
It was time.
Bringing himself face to face with the boy, Demyx carefully pressed his length to the Nekojin's entrance. He lay a kiss against Zexion's cheek, receiving an affectionate nudge from the boy's nose for his trouble. Gently, he began to enter.
All of a sudden everything switched, and Zexion was on top, plunging all the way down with vigor. The two gasped, and soon set a blistering pace that was doomed to end quickly. Not long after Demyx couldn't tell the ceiling from the floor, and all the mattered was Zexion. Kissing him, touching him, and bending down to whisper words that weren't properly formed in his ear like pillow talk. Eventually, when they had finished and the boy had fallen to the bed beside him, he made out a few words. They were slurred and weak with the exertion of sex, and seemed to carry the weight of the Heat from Zexion's body as he spoke them.
“I can't believe... you... love you so much.” The Nekojin nibbled at his ear, then twined their legs together. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...” He thanked Demyx for a while, and only the blond's prompting did he breathe.
After that they laughed, holding each other and basking in the afterglow. Something seemed to have forged between them, and for a second Demyx swore he could hear Zexion's thoughts, but it turned out to be the boy's whispers, which seemed all the more intimate. This was forever. It wasn't some fling with someone from school- it was a permanent bond that would keep them connected for the rest of their lives. It scared Demyx more than anything.
But it was worth it, and that's all that really mattered.
…
The twentieth arrived.
“Please welcome to the board Dr. Lucrecia Crescent.”
Demyx looked up at the television screen, where none other than Ms. Crescent took the stage with a winning smile. “Well would you look at that?” Xion mused from Demyx's side. “Ms. Crescent is on the board!”
“It is a privilege and an honor to be undertaking the title of Chairwoman of the Exceptions Committee. I must take into consideration the actions of the past, and act on what would be best for the people. However, it has recently come to my attention that-”
…
“I would like to thank everyone who participated with me in the Project for Change. It is at this time that social boundaries must be challenged, and with this in mind we must revolutionize our thinking-”
“-The Exception Laws are cruel and are imposed without reason-”
“-from this time forward are to be removed from use-”
…
"Not fair!” Riku complained. “While I was off at college you guys were busy making history! No wonder Sora never had time to talk on the phone.”
Demyx scoffed. “What else were we supposed to do? While you've been off at college we needed a distraction from the lack of the Great and Almighty Presence of King Riku. It just so happened that we repealed thirteen laws along the way.”
"It's not hard, changing the world and all that Jazz,” Sora agreed, butting his head against his boyfriend's chin. The two were cuddled together very comfortably on the couch beside Naminé and Kairi, who were just as familiar with each other as the boys. On the loveseat Zexion lay across Demyx's lap, the blond petting his hair and ears with gentle strokes. His fingers played with the strands, comparing the periwinkle with his tanned skin. And something was alight deep in those green eyes, leaving the smaller boy curious as to what it meant.
The party was in full swing around them, despite it being a good three hours before New Years, and they had to speak over the noise. They all had cups of some sort of punch- thankfully Mako-free- and were sipping from them. Refreshments littered the coffee table. “So,” Riku continued, “all the political mumbo-jumbo was left to Ms. Crescent? You guys just followed orders?”
Kairi had just taken a sip from her drink, but swallowed it quickly with a noise to respond. She hadn't gotten much of a chance to speak, seeing as she had been on delivery duty like Zexion and didn't have as direct a hand as Demyx. “Pretty much. Most of the time things are set up for us beforehand, like when Demyx had to take those pictures for proof before that one Exceptions guy- Xehanort- could mess with the evidence.”
Grimacing, Demyx wondered aloud, “Oh- right. Him. What happened to that guy anyway?” They were all quiet for a bit, the party moving around them. It was almost as if they were a random boulder in the middle of a river.
"Pretty sure Ms. Crescent fired him,” Naminé mumbled.
Demyx hummed. “Makes sense.”
...
With midnight fast approaching, and the New Year with it, Zexion and Demyx lay curled up on the blonde’s bed, already having sneaked away from celebratory party and come home. They occasionally glanced over to the clock, but mostly stared at the ceiling.
"It's gonna be a new year,” Zexion noted, breathe coming in puffs. They had left the window open, and the room was a frigid twenty degrees. “Wonder what's gonna happen.”
"Dunno,” the older boy mused. “Maybe we'll make history, maybe not. Probably look into some colleges, take a few pictures...” Cracking his knuckles, he pulled the blanket tighter around him. “Guess we'll just have to find out.” A small chuckle and a period of comfortable silence followed. They lay together for what seemed like forever, not minding a bit. Finally, after a while of nothing, Demyx mused, “It's almost midnight.”
Grinning, Zexion made a noise of acknowledgment before going to stretch. His boyfriend watched on in amusement as the Hybrid's arm collided with the clock. It fell to the ground with a clatter, startling the smaller boy. The movement amused Demyx, but when the Nekojin went to grab the device he stopped him.
"Leave it,” he advised. The younger boy stared for a second, already having freed himself from his blanket. He was standing, and half-bent to grab the clock. “C'mon- get back here.”
Confused by curious, Zexion consented, leaving the clock on the floor and climbing back into bed with the blond. “What's up?”
Demyx grinned. “No clocks tonight,” he informed the boy. “Let's just make sure we hit midnight.” Then he bent forward to engage the Hybrid in a gentle kiss, taking him into his hold and burying his hands in the boy's hair. After his surprise abated, Zexion wound his arms around Demyx's waist and resolved to never let go.
They fell asleep like that, tangled in each others' arms. The bond burned through their veins, still new and keeping things far from dull. Whether they made it to midnight or not is anyone's guess, but the next year at that same time they made sure to kiss at the end of the countdown. Their relationship up until then had been unusually mature, and they resented missing out on the famous mistakes of a High School relationship. So they decided to make up for it in the coming years by whining, arguing, and rolling their eyes at the stupidest, most inconsequential things, and blowing up at each other just because they could. These were all shortly followed by laughter.
The two men eventually moved away. But they came home every year to spend time with everyone who had helped them come together. Celebrations were had whenever possible, and for the silliest reasons, to get them into town. Demyx and Zexion were there for everyone. Not because they couldn't stand to go a month without their childhood friends, or that they were especially attached to their parents. It's because there was a point to be made.
They returned because they could.
And that was all there was to it.
The End
Love,
Besieged Infection