KINGDOM HEARTS KINK MEME
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here Rules:
1. Post a pairing plus a kink.
1a. One request per comment.
1b. The only kink not allowed on this meme is anything involving underage sex. What I mean by this is if, either in the request or fic, it is made clear (either by stating a number or giving a physical description) that
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It starts with a dozen words.
Thus far, Marluxia has been careful in his attempts to win other members to his cause. A careful comment here, half a suggestion there; but a dozen words from her - the bitch - and here he is, throwing the last vestiges of caution (and quite a few other things) to the wind. He knows that he’s been manipulated into this, and not even subtly, but can’t bring himself to care.
“If you’re really better than Xemnas, you’d fuck me on his throne.”
As he tears the coat from her shoulders (and she laughs at his frustration, that same lilting giggle she gave when she first propositioned him), he recalls those twelve words. At this point, it’s hard not to, as they’ve been running through his head for the better part of the day. Even now, taking her up on her offer, he isn’t sure whether this is victory or defeat.
“You just couldn’t say no, could you?” Larxene singsongs as she plucks the coat out of his fingers and drapes it haphazardly across the side of the throne. She is, unsurprisingly, already wearing nothing underneath, and smirks as his eyes and then hands are inevitably drawn to full breasts.
The answer is no, of course. Marluxia is not a man to back down from a challenge of any kind, and Larxene’s nudity, distracting as it is, is hardly the only reason behind his growing erection.
Not even half of it.
The feel of bare skin against smooth leather is intoxicating, and through his gloves he can feel her nipples hardening at his touch. Larxene makes a noise that could be either pleasure or irritation, and quickly tugs the gloves off, letting them fall to the side. “Come on, Marluxia,” she complains, wriggling against him as she reaches for his coat zipper, “I don’t want to be the only one naked if we’re caught here.” The throne is not quite large enough to fit them both, so she half straddles him, slapping his hands aside as she tugs impatiently at his clothing.
Only when she has divested him of his coat and worked his trousers halfway off does she finally allow him to touch her. She giggles softly as he trails his fingers across her breasts, and shifts into him when he bites down on a hardened nipple. Running one hand through his hair (the colour has always amused her), Larxene reaches over his shoulder and presses her palm against the back of the throne, tapping rhythmically against it.
Marluxia takes his time, running his hands across her body. It takes every ounce of his self-control to ignore the insistent way she’s rocking against him; if he’s going to defile Xemnas’s throne, he’s going to do it correctly.
“What are you playing at, Marluxia?” Larxene hisses in his ear, yanking on a handful of pale, pink curls as she pulls her other hand away from the throne and trails it down his chest. “I already know you’re no gentleman.” Her hand drifts lower, tangling briefly in pubic hair before caressing hardened flesh, as teasing and tantalizing as ever. “I told you to fuck me, not make love to me.” She suddenly squeezes, and Marluxia barely keeps from flinching. “Or are you taking lessons from Demyx now? He’s still your superior too, isn’t he?”
He pushes sideways her off his lap as much as is possible, and she slams into the side of the throne, her eyes still glimmering with amusement. “I suggest you not make an enemy of me, Larxene,” he comments coldly. “You have precious few other allies in the Organization.”
“Aw, Marluxia,” she pouts prettily, though that characteristically savage note never leaves her eyes, “you know I’m on your side. You’re so much more fun than anyone else.” She shrugs expressively, the gesture irresistibly erotic. One of her legs is still pressed against his side, and she curls her toes into his flesh. “Well, are you going to ravish me or not?” Her smile is seductively cruel, and there is only one answer.
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Oh, he’s good enough; she wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. There’s a certain confidence to him (and she swears she’ll break it someday, but not yet), and the aura of power that surrounds the man has never been as evident as it is now, when he’s moving inside of her - and Larxene wraps her legs more tightly around him, her heels digging in hard enough to bruise. He picks up speed (somewhere in the back of her mind she’s almost surprised; he moves his plans forward so slowly, she often think they’re going nowhere at all), and she arches her back as much as she can with the throne in her way, twisting her hips with a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a moan. There’s an anger to his thrusts, and Larxene is annoyed that it’s not directed at her.
She digs her fingernails into his back, smirking at his sudden hiss. If the blood stayed on her fingertips for more than a few seconds (but they’re Nobodies, so of course it dissolves back into nothingness), she’d be painting Xemnas’s throne red. She wonders exactly what sort of statement that would make.
Vines are suddenly constricting her fingers, and she bites down on his lip in protest, hard enough to draw phantom blood. “You’re no fun,” she murmurs plaintively, but then he moves just right, and she’s forced to take it back.
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When the Organization next meets, Marluxia it as impassive as ever, but Larxene is incapable of glancing in Xemnas’s direction without breaking out into uncontrollable giggles. Nobody else is quite sure what it means.
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Great stuff here, Anon!!! :)!
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