Give and Take
Axel hates water. He hates the look of it, and the feel of it, and the taste of it, and especially, the touch of it. And yet he still drags Demyx off from time to time, and tumbles him into bed.
Like now, with his hand wrapped around his junior's forearm, holding tight enough to dent flesh, sending up a continuous hiss of steam, and sharp stinging sensation. It's interesting to see the way Demyx has taken to, like Axel himself, going shirtless under his coat; it hadn't been that way when they'd first started this strange affair.
Demyx's free hand comes up, and fists in his hair, hard enough to make Axel hiss for a moment, before relaxing into the gentler grip more typical of him. Axel almost wishes he'd keep up the tight grip; it feels more honest to him, more sharp sensation, and it goes better with the liquid chill that he sees sometimes in his junior's eyes.
That look isn't there though, when he pulls Axel into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, that hisses and burns, and tastes like sulphur.
"You've been drinking hotsprings again," Axel says, his voice rough as he pulls away. The look Demyx gives him is infuriating, and sends a pulse of heat through his skin. Demyx gasps, and arches his back, but it melts into a breathy laugh.
"You like it better than they way I usually taste," Demyx says in an almost apologetic tone. Axel's lips curl in a sneer, but it's true; the sulphurous taste of volcanic hotsprings is far better than the clean watery taste Demyx comes by naturally. His hand tightens on his junior's arm.
That's when Demyx does something unexpected - the kind of two-faced, duplicitous move that he's been half-expecting since this whole thing started. The hand in his hair tightens, and there's a surge of strength in his junior's arms, shifting, moving him swiftly, like the changing tide, taking ruthless advantage of his greater mass and height to pin Axel in his stead.
The liquid chill is in his eyes when Axel looks up at him, and against his will, he inhales sharply, not quite a gasp. He can't read those eyes like he usually does; they're as constant as the most Stygian depths, cold and dark, and deep.
"You're not surprised," Demyx states, his voice cold to match his eyes.
"No," Axel replies. "I knew you had this in you. I just didn't know when it'd show." He leans up and licks the length of his junior's neck. The tendon under his tongue twitches, and it makes Axel smirk again. Something shifts in Demyx's eyes, and they darken. The look on his face is still cold.
"So," Axel continues. "What are you going to do? Have you even thought it through that far?" The smirk spreads. "The last time we were in this position, I had to remind you." His junior's eyes narrow, and he leans in close to Axel, their noses almost touching, close enough that Axel can taste the sulphur on his breath. It's mixed with salt, and the usual intangible flavour that's only just water.
He smiles, and the look does something to Axel, making every muscle in his body tighten. Demyx's fingertips run down his side, slow and steady and dragging things out over his hip and down his thigh, and Axel doesn't even fight the arch his body wants to go into, and he moans.
"That's what I'm going to do," he says. The arch of Axel's body leaves his throat exposed, he realises too late, as Demyx licks his throat. Axel stiffens, and he can feel Demyx smirking against his skin. If he had a heart, he thinks, it might have been racing.
"I should have tried this sooner," Demyx continues, his voice quiet. The hand on Axel's leg slides under his knee, and the hissing is abruptly louder, as Demyx slides their bodies together flush. Demyx is taller, but Axel has a long torso, and they've lined up nicely since the beginning, but this is different.
"You've wanted this since the beginning," Axel says. His voice is a little constrained by the pressure Demyx is putting on his throat.
"Part of me," his junior admits. Something in his eyes wavers, just enough for Axel to detyect it, and his own eyes harden.
"Don't you dare," he says. Demyx gives hima questioning look. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do," Demyx allows softly. He licks under Axel's chin, and then lifts himself up on his free hand, and looks almost impassively down at Axel.
"How long until you evaporate?" Axel asks. The hand under his knee tightens.
"Quiet," Demyx says. "For once, just shut up." There's no hint of a whine in his voice, and for once, Axel finds himself almost liking his junior. As close as he can, anyway, for a split second. Or maybe it's just his body's drives speaking for him.
It doesn't matter right now, because he does as he's told, half from habit, half from curiosity. So far, this side of Demyx...
He doesn't finish the thought, because he can't, like finishing it would finish it, and he already aches in every fibre of his being. Cold, dense, heavy, and feeling almost real. It's another of the things that Axel resents about Demyx, when he bothers to give it enough consideration; as much as he revels in his own element, fire has no substance on its own.
He can feel Demyx shift his weight, and then his junior's hand starts moving over his skin with a shifting touch; firm and then light, and everything between, and he thinks his gasp is lost in the hiss of the steam.
"Axel..." Demyx says softly, his mouth suddenly near Axel's ear. His fingers brush over Axel's hip, and skirt teasingly down his thigh, before dancing back up to slide into his hair. And pull his head sharply back. "I have your attention."
It's a statement, and not a question, but Axel nods, just a twitch of his head; he can't move it any farther, not with Demyx's hand steaming in his hair.
The hand unclenches, and slides down Axel's face, lingering on his chin, and brushing lightly over his lips. The sting of hissing steam on such sensitive skin makes him gasp again, and he's sure that that's why Demyx repeats the action, ending it by spreading his fingers, and sliding them over the tattoos on Axel's face.
The gesture is oddly more intimate than anything else they've ever done, and feels wrong in a way that nothing else they've done ever has.
"Don't do that," Axel says.
"I told you not to talk," Demyx responds. But he moves his fingers anyway.
He doesn't need any more words, but he uses them anyway, filling the silent spaces that Axel usually takes for his own with comments and commands, but no gasps, or moans, or involuntary sounds of his own. His fingers follow down the tendons in Axel's neck, a slick, sliding feeling, punctuated by the sharp, violent hiss. The sting draws a long moan from Axel; he knows Demyx is doing it deliberately, drawing more water to his fingertips, but rational thought is hard to maintain, like this.
"Axel," Demyx says again. His tongue is a sharp wet flick on Axel's throat, and again on his collarbone, and again, and again, down his body to his navel. It's almost like torture, but he doesn't want it to stop.
And still, it's all somehow soft and smooth, nothing harsh. It makes it worse on some level, but he doesn't want it to stop.
The hand under Axel's knee shifts, sliding to hook his elbow under, lifting Axel's leg, and pushing back. He's flexible, and he bends easily, and the feeling of Demyx's arm trapped between his thigh and his calf, cold and wet, and stinging.
He can't put a word to it, because it's not a real feeling, just physical sensation; it's hard to pin down, like this, with his mind fogged, and craving.
Their bodies are still close together, and hissing when Demyx slides into him, slick and smooth and implacable somehow, deep enough to almost make him whimper, almost, and better than it was the last time he let Demyx do this.
When Demyx tells him he can do whatever he wants with his hands, he reaches up to curl tight-gripping fingers in Demyx's bizarre haircut, smirking when he finally draws an involuntary hiss from his junior.
Demyx moves without being told this time, and Axel moans again, arching, and pushing back. Cold and wet, and still he wants more; if he could say anything now, it would be yes.
Something has to be showing in his eyes, because Demyx gives him a thin smile, and keeps moving, slow and deep, driving coherency out of Axel's mind.
It seems like Demyx has his perception turned on for once, because every time Axel starts getting close, he backs off just enough to drag things out a little more. A long frustrated sound comes out through Axel's teeth; it surprises him, but it doesn't seem to surprise Demyx, and that's frustrating in a distant way.
Demyx runs the thumb of his free hand over Axel's lips, and the roughness of the skin there makes them tingle, and makes him gasp. The thumb slides in, and Axel flicks his tongue over it, and then bites down. The hand stiffens, and Axel smirks; his junior tastes like sulphur still, and when Demyx tries to draw his thumb back, Axel doesn't let him.
His fingers tighten, and he gives Demyx a dangerous look. Demyx stops moving, and looks back, and they stay like that for a long moment, nothing in the air but steam and breath.
"You always have to win, don't you," Demyx says. Axel swirls his tongue around his junior's thumb, and then lets it go.
"I'll keep winning until you make me do anything else," he replies smugly.
"Fuck you." It's said in the same cold tone that Demyx has said everything since he turned the tables on Axel earlier.
"Yeah. Do." He thrusts his hips up at Demyx, and humms through his nose. "We both have more fun doing it my way."
Demyx looks down at him through cold, narrow eyes.
"You know what?" he says, leaning abruptly back. "I don't think so."
It's the only hint Axel has, before the darkness comes to carry his junior away, leaving him in his solitude with what's left of the steam.