Every Time
folder
Kingdom Hearts › Slash/Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,707
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Kingdom Hearts › Slash/Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,707
Reviews:
3
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.
Every Time
No own…sadly…*sigh*
Pairing: Saix/Zexion
Warnings: Fluff, ooc (I guess? X3)
~
He does not know what attracts him to the other, really. Maybe it’s because his hair is like the moon, pale and silver and oh so fascinating with the way the light reflects off of the strands; Saix is addicted to the moon, too, after all. Or his eyes, placid and blank and silvery blue like moonlit lakes…well, lake, one eye is always covered by a few strands of that addicting hair, after all. Saix knows how it feels beneath his fingers, knows it well from accidental and not so accidental touches.
It’s almost rare that Zexion allows him into the younger’s bed, it seems that it depends on the phase the moon is in. Not that Saix does not want to, he does; does want to feel that pale, slender body beneath his own, writhing and clinging and making the most amazing of noises. It’s the only time Saix knows that the silver-haired boy loses his calm and the stoic expression he usually wears, trading them for moans and sweat and light scratches and love bites marring his perfect skin, for saliva being slicked over his snow-white shoulders and the soft, pale insides of his thighs, which makes the boy shudder and purr, sharp eye teeth grazing it, trading his superior sense of smell with his other senses. Saix knows well that it amazes his young lover to see another instead of smelling him first (mostly because by then, Zexion is breathing heavily through his mouth, panting that brushes Saix’s chin and jaw and cheeks, breath that is stolen by deep, passionate kisses that amaze Zexion just as much), that the younger finds it fascinating to trail his delicate fingers over sweat-slicked, scarred skin and through powder-blue hair, feeling textures which is usually hindered by gloves encasing the feminine hands Saix loves on his body. Although it is good that Zexion wears his gloves.
Saix wants him to only touch him in such fascination.
He is watching him from across the room silently as his young desire is annoyed by the Nocturne and unable to read his book, batting at the cheery boy with a scowl on his pretty face, annoyedly blowing his bangs back, which just fall back over his right eye. Saix watches calmly. There is no harm done, and it’s actually pretty amusing to watch Demyx poke Zexion until the silver-haired one snaps and hisses at the blond, which causes the Nocturne to laugh. Around the large table over at the wall opposite to the door Marluxia and Luxord sit and play Monopoly with Roxas, who has probably been begging them long enough…to think of it, Demyx had been playing, too, until he got bored (he gets bored so easily, Saix muses) and went to annoy Zexion, who has by now succeeded in getting rid of Demyx…by shoving him off to Axel, who had just entered the room. The Flurry is dragged off for video games, probably, and if one doesn’t count Marluxia’s whining about losing (to a gambler and a child, how surprising), all is calm and well. There is nothing to worry about.
Despite the raging inside his body. The moon is approaching his full size and it leaves him with a torrent of emotion inside of him he didn’t know he had…every time again. Usually, everyone else steers clear of Saix in these days, but this time it is him that has meddled with the other Organization members. He is lounging comfortably in an armchair, legs crossed in front of him…eyes still on the reading schemer on the couch. Zexion is curled up against the corner of the couch, having brushed the bangs back behind his ear to show both eyes sliding smoothly over the pages, his long legs clad in black pants drawn up against his shirt-covered chest. Around this time of the day, this time of the week, none of them wears the coat they all have; it’s too heavy and warm to just lounge around.
Saix is glad the raging inside of him is not of malice and aggression this month. His hands don’t long to wring necks and crush bones this time; they long for silken hair and satin skin warming to their touch. The answer to his desires sits just across from him, not noticing him at all…he is absorbed in his book. The scarred man rises smoothly and moves over to the couch. He can feel a few gazes for a moment, but he doesn’t care, they will look away after a moment again. The collar of Zexion’s shirt is wide enough to almost slide off one shoulder; it causes a familiar stirring in Saix as his legs carry him over almost soundlessly.
There is a wrinkle of the boy’s nose as he approaches and rests three fingertips beneath the pointed chin, pressing slightly until the pretty face cants up to look at him. There is nothing in Zexion’s lake-eyes, nothing but a blank look and the silent rise of one eyebrow. A smirk answers the blank stare, before the smirking lips of his brush the boy’s smooth forehead in a fleeting kiss; the contact gone within a moment’s time as Saix straightens again, turns and leaves the room in option for his own. He doesn’t have to look at Zexion’s face to know he just cracked the expressionless mask. After all, he is not affectionate very often, indeed.
The entertainment room is left in a shocked silence. Zexion squirms, uncomfortable with the stares on him. Now everyone did know the Luna Diviner and the Schemer got together every now and then, but that…what just happened was comparable to the way Axel treated Roxas, or even the way the enemy did (with the difference that Sora and Riku had hearts, and they did not, of course). Luxord, by far the most adult person in the room, chuckles finally and shakes his head, ruffling Roxas wheat-blond hair and secretly shoving some fake money over to him, to which the boy gives a happy grin. Yet another way to beat Marluxia. Hah!
Saix, in turn, does not have to wait long before Zexion leaves the room as well, his book tucked beneath his arm and a blush on his face that seems brighter than it is with his pale skin. He yelps delightfully as hands grasp him around the waist, almost encircling it completely, and pull him against a broad chest for once not clad in a black leather coat, but rather dark blue cotton. The taller one grins, palms sliding from Zexion’s sides to his hip and around his waist to hug him close. There is erratic breathing against the skin of his collarbone, where the boy’s nose is currently located. It seems Saix smells rather nice tonight, judging by the way the silver-blue eyes slide close under the amber gaze of Saix’s half lidded eyes, and the youthful face nestles against the small bit of exposed skin.
“Bastard.”, the youth murmurs, the motion of his lips tickling Saix’s skin.
“Shh…such naughty language.”, the elder male chuckles back huskily, nose buried in the silken strands of moonlight hair. If he could nuzzle the moon this way, his cruel, tempting mistress, he would, but for now, Zexion is the closest thing to the moon Saix can think of.
“You’re not out to kill something.”, Zexion remarks, still not looking up…why should he, after all, he can smell the other just fine, and the scent forms the image in his head. Recently, Saix’s scent makes his inner eye do crazy things, like imagine the berserker above him; probably caused by the scent of a hard day of work clinging to the scarred man, which is very similar to the scent Saix wears when pleasuring him so perfectly. Sometimes he smells like blood and death, and Zexion is surprised that even the stench of this turns him on by now, so much that he has to lock himself into his room or he will lose control for sure. And sometimes, Saix smells like Zexion imagines the moon to smell. He doesn’t mind sharing Saix with the moon, though. After all, the moon is only a rock in the sky. The moon could not ever take Saix away completely.
“No, no I’m not.” This whole situation is ridiculous, he is holding the boy like they are more than occasional bed mates. Zexion shifts, but he doesn’t pull away, instead resting his cheek where his forehead had been a moment ago, his ear perfectly over the spot where Saix’s heart would be anatomically if he had one. And still, the times he gets to hold Zexion, that he gets to curl the warm body close to him that fills out his arms so nicely, Saix finds precious. In times like these, he knows what Axel feels when he gets to cuddle Roxas while watching TV, or while doing whatever they did together. (And Saix knows, because he has more talks with the Flurry than he would like to admit…) The feeling of being complete. The boy has not replied yet. And Saix is feeling oddly mushy tonight.
“Every time we touch…”, he begins, almost uncertainly, a hand sliding beneath the youth’s chin again and rising it to have the other look at him. He has no clue how to go on with his sentence, so he lowers his head a bit, before his lips ghost over the supple set beneath his. It’s a mere brush at first, but Zexion sighs softly, contently apparently and leans up slightly to press their mouths together a bit tighter. Saix watches those pretty eyes glaze over first, then they slide closed. His own stay open. He does not want to miss any of this.
“I feel the static.”, Saix whispers, his breath brushing over parted, suddenly rosy lips, and Zexion blinks up as if disoriented.
“I am not Larxene.”
The mention of the thunder’s mistress makes Saix laugh quietly. His hands slides to the back of the youth’s vulnerable neck and caresses the beginning of his spine, then it falls and lands on the wand Saix leans his back against. The dark portal appears against his back, and he can feel himself turn, just a moment before the blackness fades and Zexion lies on the silken sheets of his bed, looking all the more pale against the dark colour. He himself is above the boy on knees and hands, looking down calmly.
“Saix…”
His mouth is against the pale neck in a second, gently nipping, making the boy sigh again. Delicate hands tangle in his shirt even after Zexion is nude and he is not yet, not having found the time to draw away from the addicting body writhing beneath his. His kisses cover the boy’s shoulders, nips trail their way down the slim chest and waist and for a moment, the berserker’s tongue idly swirls in the slight indent the boy’s hipbones make on the soft abdomen.
“Saix, please…”
The ends of his hair brush over the same thighs he is parting to kiss their insides, feathery bangs dousing soft balls and the root of the youth’s arousal in almost ticklish caresses. Saix doesn’t know and doesn’t care what it is that makes Zexion squirm…but he knows what it is that makes the boy moan that deliciously. He glances up at the body, pale and glowing in the moonlight, writhing on his sheets, pale satin on dark satin. His light. His moon.
His face is buried against the back of the other’s neck, in short hair and wet skin, one hand entangled with the boy’s, while the other holds a slender leg, the knee bent as the younger has been turned onto his front gently, panting and moaning against the sheets that feel moist against his skin already now that he is thrust into, shivering with each slide of the stiff flesh in and out of his body, again and again. Saix is relentless in his loving, and the younger is loving it, his free hand tangling in the sheets to have something to hold on to as the berserker whispers into his ear with the delightfully raspy tone that he has during and after sex, a definite change to the dark velvet his voice is usually, calm and controlled at all times.
Jaws close around his shoulder gently, holding him and making him mewl and push back against the passionate, gentle mating; it’s rare that Saix is this affectionate, indeed, and Zexion finds himself enjoying it quite a bit. His stomach flutters each time he glances back and meets the other’s amber eyes, as dazed as his. The mouth rises from his shoulder, and he is covered by the taller body more thoroughly as Saix leans over to kiss him again, tongues sliding around each other fondly, lips touching like the whisper of a feather only since there is not enough room to stay in the delightfully tight, warm orifice beneath while also pleasing the boy’s moaning mouth
A soft grunt is the answer to a keening mewl as Zexion can’t take it anymore, spilling and staining the sheets below him; a heartbeat later, the quivering, tightening channel is filled, claimed and Saix gently detangles himself from the trembling boy to lay on his side against the pillows, the slender body quickly pulled against his own, sheets pulled to cover them. A large hand caresses a narrow back idly as he lets the youth pant against his chest and cling to him until Zexion is deep asleep, lulled in by gentle kisses over his face and head and fingers drawing idle patterns in the very small of his back.
Kingdom Hearts does not matter. Saix has found his heart already; it is sleeping in his arms each and every night, after all. And he is not going to let it go willingly.
~
Pairing: Saix/Zexion
Warnings: Fluff, ooc (I guess? X3)
~
He does not know what attracts him to the other, really. Maybe it’s because his hair is like the moon, pale and silver and oh so fascinating with the way the light reflects off of the strands; Saix is addicted to the moon, too, after all. Or his eyes, placid and blank and silvery blue like moonlit lakes…well, lake, one eye is always covered by a few strands of that addicting hair, after all. Saix knows how it feels beneath his fingers, knows it well from accidental and not so accidental touches.
It’s almost rare that Zexion allows him into the younger’s bed, it seems that it depends on the phase the moon is in. Not that Saix does not want to, he does; does want to feel that pale, slender body beneath his own, writhing and clinging and making the most amazing of noises. It’s the only time Saix knows that the silver-haired boy loses his calm and the stoic expression he usually wears, trading them for moans and sweat and light scratches and love bites marring his perfect skin, for saliva being slicked over his snow-white shoulders and the soft, pale insides of his thighs, which makes the boy shudder and purr, sharp eye teeth grazing it, trading his superior sense of smell with his other senses. Saix knows well that it amazes his young lover to see another instead of smelling him first (mostly because by then, Zexion is breathing heavily through his mouth, panting that brushes Saix’s chin and jaw and cheeks, breath that is stolen by deep, passionate kisses that amaze Zexion just as much), that the younger finds it fascinating to trail his delicate fingers over sweat-slicked, scarred skin and through powder-blue hair, feeling textures which is usually hindered by gloves encasing the feminine hands Saix loves on his body. Although it is good that Zexion wears his gloves.
Saix wants him to only touch him in such fascination.
He is watching him from across the room silently as his young desire is annoyed by the Nocturne and unable to read his book, batting at the cheery boy with a scowl on his pretty face, annoyedly blowing his bangs back, which just fall back over his right eye. Saix watches calmly. There is no harm done, and it’s actually pretty amusing to watch Demyx poke Zexion until the silver-haired one snaps and hisses at the blond, which causes the Nocturne to laugh. Around the large table over at the wall opposite to the door Marluxia and Luxord sit and play Monopoly with Roxas, who has probably been begging them long enough…to think of it, Demyx had been playing, too, until he got bored (he gets bored so easily, Saix muses) and went to annoy Zexion, who has by now succeeded in getting rid of Demyx…by shoving him off to Axel, who had just entered the room. The Flurry is dragged off for video games, probably, and if one doesn’t count Marluxia’s whining about losing (to a gambler and a child, how surprising), all is calm and well. There is nothing to worry about.
Despite the raging inside his body. The moon is approaching his full size and it leaves him with a torrent of emotion inside of him he didn’t know he had…every time again. Usually, everyone else steers clear of Saix in these days, but this time it is him that has meddled with the other Organization members. He is lounging comfortably in an armchair, legs crossed in front of him…eyes still on the reading schemer on the couch. Zexion is curled up against the corner of the couch, having brushed the bangs back behind his ear to show both eyes sliding smoothly over the pages, his long legs clad in black pants drawn up against his shirt-covered chest. Around this time of the day, this time of the week, none of them wears the coat they all have; it’s too heavy and warm to just lounge around.
Saix is glad the raging inside of him is not of malice and aggression this month. His hands don’t long to wring necks and crush bones this time; they long for silken hair and satin skin warming to their touch. The answer to his desires sits just across from him, not noticing him at all…he is absorbed in his book. The scarred man rises smoothly and moves over to the couch. He can feel a few gazes for a moment, but he doesn’t care, they will look away after a moment again. The collar of Zexion’s shirt is wide enough to almost slide off one shoulder; it causes a familiar stirring in Saix as his legs carry him over almost soundlessly.
There is a wrinkle of the boy’s nose as he approaches and rests three fingertips beneath the pointed chin, pressing slightly until the pretty face cants up to look at him. There is nothing in Zexion’s lake-eyes, nothing but a blank look and the silent rise of one eyebrow. A smirk answers the blank stare, before the smirking lips of his brush the boy’s smooth forehead in a fleeting kiss; the contact gone within a moment’s time as Saix straightens again, turns and leaves the room in option for his own. He doesn’t have to look at Zexion’s face to know he just cracked the expressionless mask. After all, he is not affectionate very often, indeed.
The entertainment room is left in a shocked silence. Zexion squirms, uncomfortable with the stares on him. Now everyone did know the Luna Diviner and the Schemer got together every now and then, but that…what just happened was comparable to the way Axel treated Roxas, or even the way the enemy did (with the difference that Sora and Riku had hearts, and they did not, of course). Luxord, by far the most adult person in the room, chuckles finally and shakes his head, ruffling Roxas wheat-blond hair and secretly shoving some fake money over to him, to which the boy gives a happy grin. Yet another way to beat Marluxia. Hah!
Saix, in turn, does not have to wait long before Zexion leaves the room as well, his book tucked beneath his arm and a blush on his face that seems brighter than it is with his pale skin. He yelps delightfully as hands grasp him around the waist, almost encircling it completely, and pull him against a broad chest for once not clad in a black leather coat, but rather dark blue cotton. The taller one grins, palms sliding from Zexion’s sides to his hip and around his waist to hug him close. There is erratic breathing against the skin of his collarbone, where the boy’s nose is currently located. It seems Saix smells rather nice tonight, judging by the way the silver-blue eyes slide close under the amber gaze of Saix’s half lidded eyes, and the youthful face nestles against the small bit of exposed skin.
“Bastard.”, the youth murmurs, the motion of his lips tickling Saix’s skin.
“Shh…such naughty language.”, the elder male chuckles back huskily, nose buried in the silken strands of moonlight hair. If he could nuzzle the moon this way, his cruel, tempting mistress, he would, but for now, Zexion is the closest thing to the moon Saix can think of.
“You’re not out to kill something.”, Zexion remarks, still not looking up…why should he, after all, he can smell the other just fine, and the scent forms the image in his head. Recently, Saix’s scent makes his inner eye do crazy things, like imagine the berserker above him; probably caused by the scent of a hard day of work clinging to the scarred man, which is very similar to the scent Saix wears when pleasuring him so perfectly. Sometimes he smells like blood and death, and Zexion is surprised that even the stench of this turns him on by now, so much that he has to lock himself into his room or he will lose control for sure. And sometimes, Saix smells like Zexion imagines the moon to smell. He doesn’t mind sharing Saix with the moon, though. After all, the moon is only a rock in the sky. The moon could not ever take Saix away completely.
“No, no I’m not.” This whole situation is ridiculous, he is holding the boy like they are more than occasional bed mates. Zexion shifts, but he doesn’t pull away, instead resting his cheek where his forehead had been a moment ago, his ear perfectly over the spot where Saix’s heart would be anatomically if he had one. And still, the times he gets to hold Zexion, that he gets to curl the warm body close to him that fills out his arms so nicely, Saix finds precious. In times like these, he knows what Axel feels when he gets to cuddle Roxas while watching TV, or while doing whatever they did together. (And Saix knows, because he has more talks with the Flurry than he would like to admit…) The feeling of being complete. The boy has not replied yet. And Saix is feeling oddly mushy tonight.
“Every time we touch…”, he begins, almost uncertainly, a hand sliding beneath the youth’s chin again and rising it to have the other look at him. He has no clue how to go on with his sentence, so he lowers his head a bit, before his lips ghost over the supple set beneath his. It’s a mere brush at first, but Zexion sighs softly, contently apparently and leans up slightly to press their mouths together a bit tighter. Saix watches those pretty eyes glaze over first, then they slide closed. His own stay open. He does not want to miss any of this.
“I feel the static.”, Saix whispers, his breath brushing over parted, suddenly rosy lips, and Zexion blinks up as if disoriented.
“I am not Larxene.”
The mention of the thunder’s mistress makes Saix laugh quietly. His hands slides to the back of the youth’s vulnerable neck and caresses the beginning of his spine, then it falls and lands on the wand Saix leans his back against. The dark portal appears against his back, and he can feel himself turn, just a moment before the blackness fades and Zexion lies on the silken sheets of his bed, looking all the more pale against the dark colour. He himself is above the boy on knees and hands, looking down calmly.
“Saix…”
His mouth is against the pale neck in a second, gently nipping, making the boy sigh again. Delicate hands tangle in his shirt even after Zexion is nude and he is not yet, not having found the time to draw away from the addicting body writhing beneath his. His kisses cover the boy’s shoulders, nips trail their way down the slim chest and waist and for a moment, the berserker’s tongue idly swirls in the slight indent the boy’s hipbones make on the soft abdomen.
“Saix, please…”
The ends of his hair brush over the same thighs he is parting to kiss their insides, feathery bangs dousing soft balls and the root of the youth’s arousal in almost ticklish caresses. Saix doesn’t know and doesn’t care what it is that makes Zexion squirm…but he knows what it is that makes the boy moan that deliciously. He glances up at the body, pale and glowing in the moonlight, writhing on his sheets, pale satin on dark satin. His light. His moon.
His face is buried against the back of the other’s neck, in short hair and wet skin, one hand entangled with the boy’s, while the other holds a slender leg, the knee bent as the younger has been turned onto his front gently, panting and moaning against the sheets that feel moist against his skin already now that he is thrust into, shivering with each slide of the stiff flesh in and out of his body, again and again. Saix is relentless in his loving, and the younger is loving it, his free hand tangling in the sheets to have something to hold on to as the berserker whispers into his ear with the delightfully raspy tone that he has during and after sex, a definite change to the dark velvet his voice is usually, calm and controlled at all times.
Jaws close around his shoulder gently, holding him and making him mewl and push back against the passionate, gentle mating; it’s rare that Saix is this affectionate, indeed, and Zexion finds himself enjoying it quite a bit. His stomach flutters each time he glances back and meets the other’s amber eyes, as dazed as his. The mouth rises from his shoulder, and he is covered by the taller body more thoroughly as Saix leans over to kiss him again, tongues sliding around each other fondly, lips touching like the whisper of a feather only since there is not enough room to stay in the delightfully tight, warm orifice beneath while also pleasing the boy’s moaning mouth
A soft grunt is the answer to a keening mewl as Zexion can’t take it anymore, spilling and staining the sheets below him; a heartbeat later, the quivering, tightening channel is filled, claimed and Saix gently detangles himself from the trembling boy to lay on his side against the pillows, the slender body quickly pulled against his own, sheets pulled to cover them. A large hand caresses a narrow back idly as he lets the youth pant against his chest and cling to him until Zexion is deep asleep, lulled in by gentle kisses over his face and head and fingers drawing idle patterns in the very small of his back.
Kingdom Hearts does not matter. Saix has found his heart already; it is sleeping in his arms each and every night, after all. And he is not going to let it go willingly.
~