KH II -- Pretend
Title: Pretend
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts II
Pairing: Axel/Roxas
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 380
Warnings: oh-so-subtly implied sex
Summary: It ached, to be this way.
Author's Note: Another Nijuuni picture at work, this time a steamy one called Pretend. And, uh, check out the link to the full version at the bottom, there. Damn.
PRETEND
“Roxas, I can’t-”
The voice that cut through his preface to a protest was small, and weak, and wounded, with a flaring anger born of desperation. The usual. It sliced right through him, parting slabs of skin and muscle like so much tissue paper, so much layer cake, to jab against the bone.
“Shut up,” Roxas said. “Please.”
Axel obliged. His other options didn’t bear contemplation.
- - - -
He wanted to be confident. No, he wanted to be overconfident, to be arrogant, to be aloof, to be this and that and the other, to dash his qualms and inhibitions to the floor and grind them into the ground with his heel. He wanted to crouch down and blow away the powder that was left. It was so much easier, so much easier to lie, to hide, to build up the cocksure, devil-may-care aspect brick by brick and to crawl behind it and curl up there.
Roxas shattered the walls. Shredded them. And, for some reason Axel couldn’t even begin to fathom, he didn’t despise what he found when he had.
- - - -
It ached, to be this way. To know that he couldn’t complete the circle with the last pledge. To be forced to acknowledge that he didn’t, wasn’t, couldn’t, could never.
Roxas was the kind of boy who needed love-who mandated it. He wouldn’t ask-oh, no. Admitting the existence of the hollow space would make it real, would make it darker and colder and more ineluctable even than it was in the silence. But Roxas required it. Every line of his body demanded it. It lay waiting in the curve of his clenching fingers; it lingered in his eyelashes like the salt of old tears. The sullen tilt of his shoulders begged for it, cried for it, lived for it, and a hopeless plea tainted the taste of his lips. Axel could see that he knew it was a doomed hope. He knew that the need would go unfulfilled, that the pleas would come to nothing. Nothing. Nothing to gain, nothing to lose, nothing to win.
Nothing to do but pretend.
And maybe, maybe in the light of the pretense that rode on Roxas’s cheekbone, that fueled the empty heat of him, pretending was enough.
It would have to be.
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts II
Pairing: Axel/Roxas
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 380
Warnings: oh-so-subtly implied sex
Summary: It ached, to be this way.
Author's Note: Another Nijuuni picture at work, this time a steamy one called Pretend. And, uh, check out the link to the full version at the bottom, there. Damn.
PRETEND
“Roxas, I can’t-”
The voice that cut through his preface to a protest was small, and weak, and wounded, with a flaring anger born of desperation. The usual. It sliced right through him, parting slabs of skin and muscle like so much tissue paper, so much layer cake, to jab against the bone.
“Shut up,” Roxas said. “Please.”
Axel obliged. His other options didn’t bear contemplation.
- - - -
He wanted to be confident. No, he wanted to be overconfident, to be arrogant, to be aloof, to be this and that and the other, to dash his qualms and inhibitions to the floor and grind them into the ground with his heel. He wanted to crouch down and blow away the powder that was left. It was so much easier, so much easier to lie, to hide, to build up the cocksure, devil-may-care aspect brick by brick and to crawl behind it and curl up there.
Roxas shattered the walls. Shredded them. And, for some reason Axel couldn’t even begin to fathom, he didn’t despise what he found when he had.
- - - -
It ached, to be this way. To know that he couldn’t complete the circle with the last pledge. To be forced to acknowledge that he didn’t, wasn’t, couldn’t, could never.
Roxas was the kind of boy who needed love-who mandated it. He wouldn’t ask-oh, no. Admitting the existence of the hollow space would make it real, would make it darker and colder and more ineluctable even than it was in the silence. But Roxas required it. Every line of his body demanded it. It lay waiting in the curve of his clenching fingers; it lingered in his eyelashes like the salt of old tears. The sullen tilt of his shoulders begged for it, cried for it, lived for it, and a hopeless plea tainted the taste of his lips. Axel could see that he knew it was a doomed hope. He knew that the need would go unfulfilled, that the pleas would come to nothing. Nothing. Nothing to gain, nothing to lose, nothing to win.
Nothing to do but pretend.
And maybe, maybe in the light of the pretense that rode on Roxas’s cheekbone, that fueled the empty heat of him, pretending was enough.
It would have to be.