Fantasy

Fantasy


The first time Zexion had led the blonde to his room and showed him his preferred setting, Demyx had been horrified by the sheer blasphemy. He wasn’t a particularly religious person, he was fairly certain Myde hadn’t been either, but the thought of doing ‘it’—as he had called sex back then—in a cathedral, even in an artificial one, had the boy crossing himself and muttering what he thought were the appropriate words. Zexion had chuckled at the Nocturne’s reaction, “What are you afraid of? You can’t go to hell if you have no soul.”
Before he could protest, Demyx realized what Zexion had said, and the word he hadn’t. “What about hearts?”
Instead of speaking, the shorter Nobody pulled the blonde into a kiss, and his objections melted away.

The second time Zexion had led the blonde to his room and told him his fetish, Demyx had to bite his tongue from shouting in surprise. His wasn’t a particularly dominating or sadistic personality, so the thought of making love by putting another person, Nobody, whichever, into bondage made his eyes widen and his body visibly shrink as if trying to hide from the idea. Zexion had sighed at the Nocturne’s reaction, “If you’re too cowardly to do it, then I can always ask Saix to make me bleed instead.”
Before he could make up his mind, Demyx caught the word Zexion had used, “Bleed?”
Lifting blank eyes briefly to him, the Cloaked Schemer began to walk towards the door. He paused when Demyx placed a hand on his shoulder, “But to bleed, you need a…a…”
Turning towards the taller Nobody, the lavender-haired male stepped closer and placed a hand on Nocturne’s chest. Gently grasping both his wrists, Demyx brushed their lips together and pushed Zexion back onto the altar.

The third time he had been summoned to Zexion’s room, Demyx made no visible objection to the senior member’s request. He had already noticed the altar’s nearly grotesque width, and when his lover opened the tabernacle to reveal new tools—a hammer, some nails, and a flail—he kept his face carefully arranged in his usual bright, happy smile. Even if he tried to slink his way out of this new extreme, he knew the Schemer would talk him into it…the taller Nobody wanted the friction between them too much to stand firmly against it. Still, he had winced at Zexion’s soft cry as the first nail was hammered into his hands, his body half-bent at the waist to bend backwards onto the altar. Once the other nail had been put into place, he leaned forward to silence the whimpers coming from those soft lips, only to stop as he noticed what was missing. “The nails are straight through your palms…aren’t they Zex?”
Lifting his head as well he could from his prostrate position, the Cloaked Schemer noticed what Demyx had, “Oh.” In a moment, the pristine skin of his hands was tainted artistically with blood. Before the tears could start to pool in his eyes, he smashed their mouths together and began to rub his hands all over the fragile body, trying to lose himself in the sex.

How many times had Zexion led them to his room since that first one? Digging his nails into the pale chest and trailing them down to the Schemer’s hip, Demyx sadly watched the bright red lines form briefly before fading to a light pink color. If he wasn’t occupied, he could probably have come up with an exact number, but Zexion’s satisfied moan took his mind away from counting. It had been enough times for Demyx to realize that Zexion never would have gone to Saix, or anyone else in the Organization, to indulge in this particular sexual need with. His pride was too great to allow anyone but Demyx know that he liked to be the one whimpering and squirming, and he had informed the Nocturne very calmly that if anyone found out then he would never so much as glance at the blonde again.

Grinding his bare hips against the thin cotton that covered Zexion’s member, the Nocturne bit his lip to keep himself from whimpering, instead he closed his eyes and listened to the gasps escaping the other’s lips. Sliding his left hand from the hip down the soft, flawless skin, his fingers found the testicles and wrapped around them, kneading the heated flesh and catching Zexion’s mouth in a demanding kiss. His curiosity as to whether the warmth radiating from both their bodies was as false as the cathedral around them became irrelevant when Zexion’s moan filled his mouth, deepened when Nine let his fingers grow lax and shift in favor of wrapping around his cock and roughly yanking up, running his thumb softly over the head until he had teased out some pre-cum. Several sessions cut short had taught him to press the tip of his thumb firmly on top of Zexion’s tip, determined to not let him release until he demanded it of Demyx. His other hand ran up Six’s side, pressing against the skin until it ran over his collar bone and stroked his neck. As the illusionist sighed against him, Nine gripped the slight youth’s throat, slowly adding pressure to it as he finally forced his tongue into his lover’s mouth, fingers still rubbing Zexion’s dick though his thumb stayed firmly in place. He hardly noticed that he was rubbing himself against the lavender-haired boy’s leg, concentrating more on the feeling (regardless of anything else Zexion could convince him of, the sitarist knew damn well that he could feel) of –something- rising through his body, an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite place as either happiness or sorrow before the leg jerked up, hitting him with just enough pressure to make the blonde leap back and yelp. Smirking in spite of the steady, deep breaths he was taking, Zexion met Demyx’s eyes. “My vision was getting blurry.”

“Sorry Zexy.” Averting his eyes from the Schemer’s, Demyx bowed his head apologetically, his shoulders sagging as his body went so limp Zexion was surprised he could remain upright, though he had learned to recognize that posture as the Nocturne’s version of rolling onto his back, tail between his legs.

“Don’t say sorry, just get over here and make it up to me.”

Wondering vaguely how normal it was for even a Nobody to talk in such a calm voice with nails through his palms and an erection that clearly wanted to be taken care of through the cotton, Demyx hurried back to the altar and knelt down. The cloth was ripped off with ease, like tearing a tissue to expose Zexion completely. Eager to atone for nearly asphyxiating the illusionist, Nine took the hard member into his mouth, running his wet tongue around the delicate skin and cherishing the soft moans and sighs coming from above him. Sucking softly, he attempted to envelope more of the heat with his lips, only to be nudged away yet again by Zexion’s legs. It was gentler push this time, and Demyx preferred to think it was because the Schemer didn’t want to hurt him and not just because the feeling of the blonde’s mouth had relaxed most of his strength.

“Not…like that…Nine.” Six panted. The Melodious Nocturne hesitated for a moment, but he knew what Zexion wanted. Rising from his kneeling position, he crawled over the Christ effigy and positioned himself so that he knelt upright with Zexion’s head between his legs, his erection hovering above the flushed lips. Grey eyes looked up at him with false confusion until Demyx remembered himself, conjuring up an imperious tone and commanding “Suck.” It had taken him a few times to not choke over the word, but tonight his voice was harsh and cold, betraying nothing as he felt Zexion run his tongue along the underside of his cock before swallowing him into his mouth. Whimpering as quietly as he could, Demyx stared down at the lavender hair below him, unaware of how soft his expression was until Zexion glanced up at him, a glint in his eyes telling the blonde the mood was somehow being killed until Nine’s eyes hardened. The widening eyes and look of fear told him it was the right reaction as the sucking resumed, the nimble tongue running over his cock and a quick graze with teeth caused him to buck forward into Zexion’s mouth. As the jolts of pleasure coursing throughout him threatened to overwhelm his mind, Demyx buried his fingers into Zexion’s hair and yanked the Schemer away from his length.

Biting his lip again at Zexion’s disappointed whimper (was that real? Surely he knew the reason Demyx pulled away?) he climbed off the altar, gripping the slender hips to both position Zexion and steady himself as with one hard thrust he penetrated the Schemer, keeping his head down so Zexion couldn’t see his face as the Nocturne heard his scream. He had already slipped up enough— he didn’t want to ruin this for Zexion. In, out, in, out, in…a moan let him know when he had hit the right spot, allowing him to develop a tempo from there as he lowered his head to nip at Zexion’s neck, sucking fiercely at the skin as he pounded into the frail youth. The mark would fade moments after he moved his lips, but as long as he kept at it, nibbling and sucking as he filled the Schemer, this was more than just fucking. Zexion could hardly lie or say anything about hearts when his body was too busy writhing against Demyx’s to form a decent thought.

“Demyx!” White, sticky liquid covered Nine’s chest and Six’s abdomen.
The sound of his name pulled Demyx onto the wave and he came a moment later, much quieter and merely whimpering “I love you Zex.”

“Love you too.” A whisper as Demyx pulled out and cuddled on top of the prostate boy.
Now that he was finished, Six had no more need to keep up the glamoured setting he had come to think of as Demyx’s. The stained-glass windows of the cathedral slowly began to morph into the bright white walls of Zexion’s room in Castle Oblivion, and the altar became his bed. The nails in the Schemer’s palms slowly became more transparent, and finally disappeared. For a few seconds, Zexion took advantage of his new mobility to wrap his arms around Demyx. When the last pew faded from sight, he pushed the blonde away and rolled over, closing his eyes. The illusion was over, he wanted sleep.