Rating: NC-17. Was supposed to be my first attempt at smut. Needless to say, I chickened out. /shot'd
Warnings: Gay. Gay. Boys Love, Hardcore. Xemnas (mansex). Stuff. Also a WIP. You know what that means! :D
Summary: Axel is a sex addict.
Disclaimed.
Axel didn't know when it had started. It was like that first snuff of bittersweet cigarettes. It was like the joy provided by ecstasy or heroin or cocaine, the tendrils growing longer and longer, alluring and hypnotizing and reaching into the confines of his conscious, ripping out his sanity and licking the remaining shards of his conscience. There would be no worries, no regrets, nothing at all--only pure unadulterated pleasure.
"More...more...!"
Mind and mouth in sync, a litany of want flooding his head. In here, only his satisfaction mattered. In here, he could focus on the sound of sweat-slicked skin slapping against sweat-slicked skin, on the tangy smell of raw sex, on the exhilarating feeling of going so high that falling is nonexistent. In here, outside didn't matter.
"I'm--" Grunt. "fuck," whimper, "nng--ah...ah! H-harder! Harder!"
Saturday, June 9, 2012
WIP #1, AkuRoku.
Rating: T. Though if it were continued, then it's likely to turn into an NC-17 (which would be my first attempt at smut, whoop-de-doo).
Warnings: Well...WIP, work-in-progress, an old one at that. May never be continued. Ever. Other than that, yeah, the gay is sort of implied. And slight religion-bashing in a way. I do not mean to offend, it's just something I feel that Axel would do. Dx
Summary: Axel sees a strange boy on top of the church rooftop.
Disclaimed.
It all started on a Sunday.
Axel wasn't the godliest of men--as if his facial tattoos and wild unkempt mane didn't already prove that-but the thing was, he loved his mother, and damn it all to hell if the woman began shedding melodramatic tears of pseudo-scorn.
So he obeyed his mother's whims and went to church, tattoos and all, and he was stared at but honestly, he hardly gave a damn. The combined stench of congregation, unconditional acceptance, and Sunday's Best Clothes nauseated him, the consisted "healing music" pounded on the pipe organ worsened his migraine, but the redhead had promised to himself (and to his mom) that he would be a man about this--that he would faithfully listen to the sermon and pray and open his heart up to the Lord like the nice, obedient son she knew he really was deep deep inside.
Axel promised he wouldn't freak out about that either.
But the boredom was inevitable, and the redhead was by no means a patient man. Very audible groaning was prevented by the temporary satisfaction of picturing saints in positions inspired by softcore Youtube porn. It was in his process of mentally desecrating the priest's face when Axel caught a blond glint reflected by the tinted glass out of the corner of his eye, when he turned his head up back during prayer time and saw what was apparent death-defying acrobatics being performed a hundred and fifty feet in the air.
So, yeah, it all started on a Sunday.
It was purely by chance that Axel was on the rooftop at approximately the same time as the young acrobat. At least, that was what he told himself over and over, believing that if he repeated it enough times, it would transform into a truth--a perversion of lies. Coincidence, really, and nothing more.
"You shouldn't be up here."
Just a second of eye contact to tell the watcher that he didn't give a damn, before returning his concentration to more important things, like scaling the steep ledge.
Axel tried again. "Hey, what's your name?"
Total ignorance. Not even a glance. Axel supposed he should have been insulted by this, but feelings of irritation were hushed with the sound of shoes skidding on pavement accompanied with the zoomed image of flexing muscles. Green eyes were glued onto the other's neck, a constant beating vein decorated by glittering beads of sweat that hypnotized its audience in the most captivating way. Then everything stopped, a frozen moment in time as the blond properly looked at him, God, finally, and Axel held his breath as the other opened his mouth and then--
Looking back, Axel would realize that the constricting of his chest was disappointment. Only disappointment.
"Sora."
"Ah, Sora. I'm Axel. Got it memorized?"
The name tasted bitter in his mouth.
Warnings: Well...WIP, work-in-progress, an old one at that. May never be continued. Ever. Other than that, yeah, the gay is sort of implied. And slight religion-bashing in a way. I do not mean to offend, it's just something I feel that Axel would do. Dx
Summary: Axel sees a strange boy on top of the church rooftop.
Disclaimed.
It all started on a Sunday.
Axel wasn't the godliest of men--as if his facial tattoos and wild unkempt mane didn't already prove that-but the thing was, he loved his mother, and damn it all to hell if the woman began shedding melodramatic tears of pseudo-scorn.
So he obeyed his mother's whims and went to church, tattoos and all, and he was stared at but honestly, he hardly gave a damn. The combined stench of congregation, unconditional acceptance, and Sunday's Best Clothes nauseated him, the consisted "healing music" pounded on the pipe organ worsened his migraine, but the redhead had promised to himself (and to his mom) that he would be a man about this--that he would faithfully listen to the sermon and pray and open his heart up to the Lord like the nice, obedient son she knew he really was deep deep inside.
Axel promised he wouldn't freak out about that either.
But the boredom was inevitable, and the redhead was by no means a patient man. Very audible groaning was prevented by the temporary satisfaction of picturing saints in positions inspired by softcore Youtube porn. It was in his process of mentally desecrating the priest's face when Axel caught a blond glint reflected by the tinted glass out of the corner of his eye, when he turned his head up back during prayer time and saw what was apparent death-defying acrobatics being performed a hundred and fifty feet in the air.
So, yeah, it all started on a Sunday.
---
It was purely by chance that Axel was on the rooftop at approximately the same time as the young acrobat. At least, that was what he told himself over and over, believing that if he repeated it enough times, it would transform into a truth--a perversion of lies. Coincidence, really, and nothing more.
"You shouldn't be up here."
Just a second of eye contact to tell the watcher that he didn't give a damn, before returning his concentration to more important things, like scaling the steep ledge.
Axel tried again. "Hey, what's your name?"
Total ignorance. Not even a glance. Axel supposed he should have been insulted by this, but feelings of irritation were hushed with the sound of shoes skidding on pavement accompanied with the zoomed image of flexing muscles. Green eyes were glued onto the other's neck, a constant beating vein decorated by glittering beads of sweat that hypnotized its audience in the most captivating way. Then everything stopped, a frozen moment in time as the blond properly looked at him, God, finally, and Axel held his breath as the other opened his mouth and then--
---
Looking back, Axel would realize that the constricting of his chest was disappointment. Only disappointment.
---
"Sora."
"Ah, Sora. I'm Axel. Got it memorized?"
The name tasted bitter in his mouth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)