Haven for Cockroaches
folder
Kingdom Hearts › Threesomes/Moresomes
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,189
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Kingdom Hearts › Threesomes/Moresomes
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,189
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Kingdom Hearts, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Less Than Manly Giggles
Warnings/Info for this chapter:
Pairing: Xigbar/Xaldin
Warnings: Cussing, Angst, Drunken Sex, OOCness and Xaldin in tights.
Rating: NC 17
Other: Alternate Universe
==T=A=X==
A few flyers blew against his feet as he sighed. The rain hadn’t let up yet and the jousting lances weren’t getting any lighter. He would have set them on the ground if he wanted them to share the same fate at his boots. He grimaced, running his free hand through his soaked braids as he eyed the mud covered boots. That was going to be a bitch to get out. At least they didn’t get on the costume he thought positively. The fabric took even longer to get shit off of than his boots.
It had been an hour since the faire closed. An hour since he waved goodbye to the other reenactors and thus doomed himself to standing under the tree like an idiot. Of all the days for his car to be in the shop, it had to be today.
Then again Xaldin never did have the best of luck. While the other jousters and knights had swooning women after them, his audience was limited to drunken men and cat-calling teenagers. He couldn’t figure out what exactly made him seem like the gay sort of guy. And he didn’t mean “happy”. Maybe it was the outfit, but it was the standard workers one. Maybe the way he talked? No, he thought, Xaldin didn’t talk much different from everyone else. Then it had to be his hair.
His hair. He shifted the lances on his shoulder some and pulled a braid over to inspect it. Sure, most men had shorter locks. Xaldin could almost see how he could be mistaken for a faggot, but that’s just how he liked to style his hair. Was it so wrong for a man to braid his own hair?
He blinked some then face palmed. First thing in the morning he was cutting them off.
Caught up in his musings, he didn’t notice the beat up 1991 Toyota Celica until he was coated with a particularly thick splash of mud.
Mother fucker.
“Yo, hey sorry man. I didn’t see you there!”
Xaldin eyed the man through the partially rolled down window. He seems to be in his later years from the hair color and was ridden with scars. He could vaguely make out his eye patch from the sheet of rain.
“Look, I’m really sorry, why don’t you put those in the back and hop in?”
It didn’t take much prompting for him to head inside the car. A mistake as it was.
The rest of the night was spent hopping from bar to bar, saying things that shouldn’t be said and getting closer to a stranger than logic dictates wise. He of course still wearing his costume, the braided fool got quite the stares. In his drunken stupor, Xaldin ignored all warning signs that Xigbar wasn’t the nice guy he was trying to show himself as. But as the saying goes: “The most expensive drink you will ever taste is free alcohol.”
Stumbling over the mass amount of trash and porno mags, and having a few less than manly giggles, Xaldin found himself on the bed he’d later be cuffed to. Somewhere in the back of his mind he mused over the fact he had turned into a two beer queer. But such thoughts were lost once his muddy tights were ripped to shreds and they were joined in the most romantic way possible.
Through the ass.
Had he taken the time to use whatever portion of his brain not engulfed by drunken monkey sex, Xaldin would have left far before the upcoming morning. Before he was up shit creek without a paddle. He didn’t, he was, and for the sake of continuing the story: some mistakes cost you your pride and cherry.
Mental images aside, a very shocked Xaldin found himself in an empty motel the morning after, tied and gagged to the shitty bed. No matter his muffled cries, or almost tears, Xigbar had gotten the upper hand.
The hours he was tied turned to days as his struggles became weaker and weaker. On the fifth day of no food or water, the door opened. This was the moment he was waiting for. The moment he’d kick the bastards ass. But then he saw it. The most glorious sight of the past few days.
A burger king whopper, fries and coke.
How easily the mighty fall as when Xaldin’s weakened form was released, he forgot all about ripping the bastard to shreds and ravenously devoured the more-grease-than-meal.
“Well then bitch, looks like you owe me one.”
Over the next week Xaldin learned the meaning behind those words.
==T=A=X==
Okay, short chapter I know. Sorry Candy, know you were probably hoping for more. I wanted to get this one out of the way and wanted to giggle over Xaldin in a medieval faire costume.
Debating on adding Luxord for the next chapter.
Pairing: Xigbar/Xaldin
Warnings: Cussing, Angst, Drunken Sex, OOCness and Xaldin in tights.
Rating: NC 17
Other: Alternate Universe
==T=A=X==
A few flyers blew against his feet as he sighed. The rain hadn’t let up yet and the jousting lances weren’t getting any lighter. He would have set them on the ground if he wanted them to share the same fate at his boots. He grimaced, running his free hand through his soaked braids as he eyed the mud covered boots. That was going to be a bitch to get out. At least they didn’t get on the costume he thought positively. The fabric took even longer to get shit off of than his boots.
It had been an hour since the faire closed. An hour since he waved goodbye to the other reenactors and thus doomed himself to standing under the tree like an idiot. Of all the days for his car to be in the shop, it had to be today.
Then again Xaldin never did have the best of luck. While the other jousters and knights had swooning women after them, his audience was limited to drunken men and cat-calling teenagers. He couldn’t figure out what exactly made him seem like the gay sort of guy. And he didn’t mean “happy”. Maybe it was the outfit, but it was the standard workers one. Maybe the way he talked? No, he thought, Xaldin didn’t talk much different from everyone else. Then it had to be his hair.
His hair. He shifted the lances on his shoulder some and pulled a braid over to inspect it. Sure, most men had shorter locks. Xaldin could almost see how he could be mistaken for a faggot, but that’s just how he liked to style his hair. Was it so wrong for a man to braid his own hair?
He blinked some then face palmed. First thing in the morning he was cutting them off.
Caught up in his musings, he didn’t notice the beat up 1991 Toyota Celica until he was coated with a particularly thick splash of mud.
Mother fucker.
“Yo, hey sorry man. I didn’t see you there!”
Xaldin eyed the man through the partially rolled down window. He seems to be in his later years from the hair color and was ridden with scars. He could vaguely make out his eye patch from the sheet of rain.
“Look, I’m really sorry, why don’t you put those in the back and hop in?”
It didn’t take much prompting for him to head inside the car. A mistake as it was.
The rest of the night was spent hopping from bar to bar, saying things that shouldn’t be said and getting closer to a stranger than logic dictates wise. He of course still wearing his costume, the braided fool got quite the stares. In his drunken stupor, Xaldin ignored all warning signs that Xigbar wasn’t the nice guy he was trying to show himself as. But as the saying goes: “The most expensive drink you will ever taste is free alcohol.”
Stumbling over the mass amount of trash and porno mags, and having a few less than manly giggles, Xaldin found himself on the bed he’d later be cuffed to. Somewhere in the back of his mind he mused over the fact he had turned into a two beer queer. But such thoughts were lost once his muddy tights were ripped to shreds and they were joined in the most romantic way possible.
Through the ass.
Had he taken the time to use whatever portion of his brain not engulfed by drunken monkey sex, Xaldin would have left far before the upcoming morning. Before he was up shit creek without a paddle. He didn’t, he was, and for the sake of continuing the story: some mistakes cost you your pride and cherry.
Mental images aside, a very shocked Xaldin found himself in an empty motel the morning after, tied and gagged to the shitty bed. No matter his muffled cries, or almost tears, Xigbar had gotten the upper hand.
The hours he was tied turned to days as his struggles became weaker and weaker. On the fifth day of no food or water, the door opened. This was the moment he was waiting for. The moment he’d kick the bastards ass. But then he saw it. The most glorious sight of the past few days.
A burger king whopper, fries and coke.
How easily the mighty fall as when Xaldin’s weakened form was released, he forgot all about ripping the bastard to shreds and ravenously devoured the more-grease-than-meal.
“Well then bitch, looks like you owe me one.”
Over the next week Xaldin learned the meaning behind those words.
==T=A=X==
Okay, short chapter I know. Sorry Candy, know you were probably hoping for more. I wanted to get this one out of the way and wanted to giggle over Xaldin in a medieval faire costume.
Debating on adding Luxord for the next chapter.