Hm. I need a talk with my muses.
I realized last night that over at Y, where just about all my latest works surface first, almost one quarter of my Kingdom Hearts submissions are writing.
How the hell did that happen?? I'm an artist, not a writer! Right! Right?
Odd; my muses of writing have been hibernating soundly for years with few exceptions, and suddenly they're up and about like hyper butterflies, constantly nagging me to write out this or that particular bunny. Me no get it. o.o
The reason I made my little discovery was that I was uploading another piece of writing (surprise). My artist-muse is probably off soaking sun on a beach somewhere sipping umbrella drinks while I'm stuck in a stormy snowdrift in the dark north, the little bitch right, anyway, leaving me with writing as my current 411-outlet.
You take what you get? At least writing is much better than no creativity at all.
Just... strange. X3
Anyway, this particular ficlet annoys me slightly; I'd promised myself that if I was going to do any more writing for the Plotbunny-o-DOOM story, I'd do every installment in order.
And then the visions for this scene harassed me on a particularly interesting bus-ride the other day, and I felt I wanted to write it down. And once written, of course I wanted to post it. Even though it's all out of context, all backstory out the proverbial window. Well, bugger.
Just... picture that it takes place after Frozen Oblivion. Quite some time after. And that Marluxia has happily been an absolute bastard about things pretty much since then.
Title: Two For Tea
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Characters: Vexen, Marluxia
Rating: R? MA? NC-17? Blatant yaoi sex, pretty much consensual, nothing too kinky.
Note: Un-beta'd - if you see any glaring errors, please, please point them out. ^_^;d
" Why hasn't he summoned me? It's been days since he returned. Still not a word. Nothing. Has he grown bored with his games at last? Bored with me? Or is it a test; is he waiting for me to come to him? I had expected... Well. Something.
Why hasn't he called for me? And why, why, why does it bother me that he hasn't?"
" Yes..?"
The Keeper of Oblivion looked up at the muffled knock on the door, wondering at the unexpected interruption. Seeing who opened the door did nothing to lessen his surprise, but at least now his curiosity was piqued; Vexen never came to his chambers unbidden if there was any way at all to avoid it.
" Are you busy?"
The scientist's voice was tight and matter-of-fact; whatever was on his mind was probably earthshatteringly important; to Vexen himself at any rate.
Quite appreciating the excuse to leave accumulated reports and plans aside for a while he put down his pencil and leaned back with the smallest shade of a superior smile; always a certain way to unbalance the man.
" I think I can spare a few minutes for my dear scientist. Do come inside. Coffee or tea?"
" Tea."
Still curt and stiff Vexen closed the door behind him and strode over to sit in his usual armchair by the table. Marluxia sent off a quickly summoned Dusk for hot water with a haughty gesture and rose with an all but feline stretch. Too many reports and too much mindnumbingly boring paperwork; how less than three weeks' absence could generate such a buildup he would never know.
Vexen sat stiff and straight in his chair and fiddled with his sleeves, a faint scowl on the gaunt features. Most of all he looked like he was only just now realizing where he was, and quite regretting coming there in the first place. He couldn't help but smile minutely at the sight.
So very easy to read, so very easy to manipulate; so very easy to break.
The Dusk arrived with water and sweets, and he busied himself with the tea, going through the familiar routine while watching his unexpected guest.
" So what troubles you today? I hope we still have the basement levels intact..?"
A glare. Restless hands resolutely hidden in too-wide sleeves.
" Did you read my latest report yet?"
He shrugged, finishing stirring the tea.
" Not yet. You've all kept yourselves commendably busy while I was away; I've been playing catch-up since I returned."
Just a hint of acerbic displeasure. He was fairly sure at least half of Zexion's and Lexaeus' reports were a lot more extensive than they needed to be, and Vexen's research reports were never anything less than virtual bricks of droning, stilted science-lingo longwinded enough to give anyone a migraine.
" Was it urgent?"
Vexen's turn to shrug slightly, still looking quite uncomfortable in his seat.
" Somewhat. I need… to know in which direction to go with any further experimentation. The subjects are much too divided; if we want any answers worth getting, we need to focus our efforts more. I cannot keep up studying replicas and memories if you want me to keep up monitoring the castle's reality-levels as well."
Gaining momentum as he spoke, the older man finished with an all but accusing frown in his direction.
" Are you saying the tasks assigned to you are too difficult for you to handle?"
Silken voice, just the barest hint of questioning disapproval. Hints were usually all it took. Sure enough Vexen looked away, giving up without a fight.
" Not too difficult. But… impractical. Perhaps if at least the more mundane tasks could be reassigned to Zexion or Lexaeus…"
There at least he would gladly agree. Dumping the boring chores of supervising the castle's anchors to reality on V or VI seemed like just the right sort of petty revenge for their unnecessarily lengthy reports. He nodded graciously as he served the tea.
" Very well. I'll trust your judgment in this case. Of course I will be expecting all the more impressive results from you with all that extra time on your hands."
Vexen gave him an almost exasperated glare.
" But of course you will."
He smirked as he sat down, deciding he had quite missed his Oblivion while he was away. His castle, his power and his single most entertainingly stubborn subordinate.
Said subordinate was currently fidgeting with his teacup in both hands, seemingly quite absorbed with the green depths of its contents. Definitely on edge. Then again, when wasn't he?
" You're not eating," he pointed out mildly, although he had to admit he couldn't blame the man. Rather than the usual refined lavender biscuits the Dusk had brought back quite horrible greasy cream pastries. It must be new. He made a mental note to have it obliterated.
Vexen looked up, then gave the fluffy atrocity on his plate a dubious look. After a minute of quite heavy silence he made a face, decisively putting his teacup back down.
" I didn't come here for tea and biscuits, Marluxia. Pastries. Whatever that thing is supposed to be."
" Oh..?"
He took a dainty sip from his own cup, studying the other with genuine amusement. He always could tell when Vexen wanted something, holding out until the last possible moment before actually asking. The way he'd squirm while hoping for the other to broach the subject was particularly entertaining. He pointedly kept silent, only slowly arched his eyebrows in askance.
The scientist seemed to already regret having put his teacup down, leaving his hands unoccupied again, and let them fall awkwardly into his lap. He relented enough to at least ask the question.
" Then why are you here?"
Tension and hesitation struggled across the other's face for a full minute until he suddenly rose with a sharp impatient gesture of indecision.
Half expecting him to head for the door in frustration, Marluxia all but choked on his tea when the tall man closed the space between them in one long stride, leaned down with his hands resting against the back of the armchair and gave him quite a deep and ravenous kiss.
Cold, tense lips, the clean taste of green tea against his mouth.
Vexen's eyes held his all the while, an open challenge burning in their depths, to push him away or pull him closer, daring him to laugh or lash out, forceful and utterly fragile at once. He should have known that look from the moment the man entered his room, had he only looked close enough to catch it; defiant shame-tinted need, thinly veiled by crumbling pride and helpless aggravation. Most beautiful of eyes.
As Vexen pulled away, green eyes still holding his; hard and unyielding yet almost pleading, he couldn't help but give a breathless chuckle.
" Ah... You really must have missed me, my lovely… What a warm welcome indeed!"
Affronted, defenses rising, Vexen made as to pull away faced with his amusement, but didn't get far; he caught sand-colored hair sternly in his gloved hands and held the other firmly in place to retaliate with a deep kiss of his own.
Odd how the familiar tea could taste so much sweeter from such bitter lips…
Hands sliding from the back of the armchair to his shoulders, it wasn't many kisses later that Vexen was virtually straddling his lap, shivering, eyes aglow with resentful desire, and they both seemed slightly short of breath. The intensity of that gaze all but pinned him to the spot, so utterly and completely focused on what the man wanted. Him. Now.
He laughed softly and raked his teeth along the other's jaw to give a teasing bite at his ear.
" You will have to ask me," he mumbled, breathing the faint smell of snow from the man's long hair. Vexen gave a hiss and used the grip on his shoulders to push away enough to look him the eyes again.
Proud, still, even here, despite everything.
" I will not beg."
A snarl, unyielding. Another kiss, harsher this time, pressing him back into the back of the chair, not letting him breathe. He had to tear away, gasping for air, the ghost of a smile still on his lips.
" Oh, you may not have to beg… Only let me know just what it is you want."
Vexen all but growled, his eyes narrowed to slits, long bony hands sliding down his shoulders over his chest, still pressing him back into the chair.
" You know damn well what I want."
A kiss angry enough to leave his lips swollen, making it hard to laugh or even smile quite so smugly anymore.
" Bastard."
Muffled voice muttering crossly into the hair by his ear, warm breath from cold lips against the sensitive bare skin of his neck sending a tickling shiver down his spine.
He really shouldn't stand for that sort of talk from a subordinate, not at all, but his coat seemed to be zipped open and burning cold fingertips were sliding over his chest, leaving his skin ablaze wherever they had touched him.
He frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but found himself silenced again by those hard and relentless lips against his, tongue invading his mouth, and suddenly winning that particular battle became much more important than voicing whatever trivial words he had intended to speak.
Eyes noxious as poison, green as envy bore into his, their intensity and focus alone stealing his breath, and as those too-cold fingertips slid downwards, impatiently unbuckling his belt and pants he had to close his eyes for a brief moment of respite. And when long bony fingers closed tight around his already hardening length he jerked, pressing himself helplessly against the almost painful touch, writhing and shuddering. A strangled gasp escaped him, but once again there was that cold-and-warm mouth over his to devour any sound, and he couldn't, truly couldn't pinpoint the precise moment he had utterly lost control over the situation.
Impatient jerky tugs pulled his pants down further, leaving him fully exposed, and he groaned with pleasure as that almost-too-rough hand kneaded and caressed him, the touch not quite so painfully cold anymore; quite obviously he was not only one getting strangely warm and flushed.
And then Vexen raised himself onto his knees, a dark shape looming over him, that wonderful hand leaving him for a moment to fumble with the scientist's own clothes, and he was vaguely aware perhaps he should have helped, but his hands seemed to be quite occupied clawing convulsively at the arms of his chair, and not at all very interested in taking orders from his brain when his primal instincts screamed so much louder. Wide, flaring robes were unzipped just barely enough to be folded aside, pants lowered just enough to be, well, enough, then lips were finding his own again. He was honestly grateful for the asphyxiating kiss or he would have whimpered most pathetically, and that just wouldn't do at all.
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, and then he did whimper and jump at the unexpected cool and slick touch between his legs.
Cream. Sweetened accursed fluffy whipped cream, and that damned, damned dimwitted Dusk just might be spared after all.
He croaked something, quite possibly a mangled attempt at the other's name, pressed back into his chair as he was, pinned down, hands clenching numbly at the armrests, and then without further hesitation Vexen lowered himself into his lap again, focused and determined, drawing a silent ragged breath as he let himself be filled, impaled, taking him all the way inside.
Marluxia gave a low, guttural groan as the coolness was replaced by such tight warmth, feeling the firm squeeze all the way from his curling toes into his guts. Slightly stunned he dared another look at his lover, then groaned again and wished he hadn't; at this rate he would be undone in seconds.
It was undeniably practical, and Vexen probably didn't even realize the effect it had, but the insufferable man was licking the remaining cream from his fingers and damn him to hell for doing it so absentmindedly and unpretentiously.
And then Vexen moved and he couldn't even try to assure himself he had any control over his own mind or body anymore.
Straddling him, draped against him the hard, thin creature before him moved, rising and falling, squeezing him, sliding and rubbing against him, that seemingly lifeless but so very soft hair fanning over his bared chest, and he gasped and moaned quite helplessly with every shift and movement.
He wanted to close his eyes but couldn't bring himself to, despite the brilliance of that calculating gaze being all but blinding; he writhed and shivered, tried to remember to breathe.
It didn't last long, the fervent blaze of the man's desire bright and short-lived. Spreading himself wide open Vexen pressed himself down over him relentlessly, his breathing uneven, tousled hair falling forward to hide his face as the first tremor shook him. Then suddenly he arched his back, rigid as a bow just before the arrow's flight, head falling back, bony fingers digging into his shoulders so hard it hurt. When it came, his release was quick, dry and silent, the tense body shuddering violently, a shadow of near-pain crossing his face.
And then heavy eyelids finally closed on the intensity of those eyes and with a soft sigh the man draped himself bonelessly against him
Short uneven puffs of breath against his collarbone forced him to bite his lip hard to keep silent, and it was a complete mystery to him why he, who had barely moved at all, should be struggling so hard to breathe.
Vexen only needed a few short moments to recover, leaned back briefly to give him an unreadable look before climbing off of him, unceremoniously adjusting his clothes and sweeping his disheveled hair out of his face.
Almost as an afterthought he leaned down, pressed a quick and almost chaste kiss against his lips.
" Thank you for the tea."
Voice dispassionate and matter-of-fact again. And he turned and left.
Marluxia didn't move as he was once again left alone in his chambers, only sat silent and slightly dazed, licking the taste of sweet cream and tea from his lips. His hands were still numbly clutching at the armrests of his chair, crumpled clothes folded aside, his entire being throbbing painfully with pent-up, unreleased desire.
And he knew, beaten fair and square at his own game, that he had just been utterly and undeniably used.
How the hell did that happen?? I'm an artist, not a writer! Right! Right?
Odd; my muses of writing have been hibernating soundly for years with few exceptions, and suddenly they're up and about like hyper butterflies, constantly nagging me to write out this or that particular bunny. Me no get it. o.o
The reason I made my little discovery was that I was uploading another piece of writing (surprise). My artist-muse is probably off soaking sun on a beach somewhere sipping umbrella drinks while I'm stuck in a stormy snowdrift in the dark north, the little bitch right, anyway, leaving me with writing as my current 411-outlet.
You take what you get? At least writing is much better than no creativity at all.
Just... strange. X3
Anyway, this particular ficlet annoys me slightly; I'd promised myself that if I was going to do any more writing for the Plotbunny-o-DOOM story, I'd do every installment in order.
And then the visions for this scene harassed me on a particularly interesting bus-ride the other day, and I felt I wanted to write it down. And once written, of course I wanted to post it. Even though it's all out of context, all backstory out the proverbial window. Well, bugger.
Just... picture that it takes place after Frozen Oblivion. Quite some time after. And that Marluxia has happily been an absolute bastard about things pretty much since then.
Title: Two For Tea
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Characters: Vexen, Marluxia
Rating: R? MA? NC-17? Blatant yaoi sex, pretty much consensual, nothing too kinky.
Note: Un-beta'd - if you see any glaring errors, please, please point them out. ^_^;d
" Why hasn't he summoned me? It's been days since he returned. Still not a word. Nothing. Has he grown bored with his games at last? Bored with me? Or is it a test; is he waiting for me to come to him? I had expected... Well. Something.
Why hasn't he called for me? And why, why, why does it bother me that he hasn't?"
" Yes..?"
The Keeper of Oblivion looked up at the muffled knock on the door, wondering at the unexpected interruption. Seeing who opened the door did nothing to lessen his surprise, but at least now his curiosity was piqued; Vexen never came to his chambers unbidden if there was any way at all to avoid it.
" Are you busy?"
The scientist's voice was tight and matter-of-fact; whatever was on his mind was probably earthshatteringly important; to Vexen himself at any rate.
Quite appreciating the excuse to leave accumulated reports and plans aside for a while he put down his pencil and leaned back with the smallest shade of a superior smile; always a certain way to unbalance the man.
" I think I can spare a few minutes for my dear scientist. Do come inside. Coffee or tea?"
" Tea."
Still curt and stiff Vexen closed the door behind him and strode over to sit in his usual armchair by the table. Marluxia sent off a quickly summoned Dusk for hot water with a haughty gesture and rose with an all but feline stretch. Too many reports and too much mindnumbingly boring paperwork; how less than three weeks' absence could generate such a buildup he would never know.
Vexen sat stiff and straight in his chair and fiddled with his sleeves, a faint scowl on the gaunt features. Most of all he looked like he was only just now realizing where he was, and quite regretting coming there in the first place. He couldn't help but smile minutely at the sight.
So very easy to read, so very easy to manipulate; so very easy to break.
The Dusk arrived with water and sweets, and he busied himself with the tea, going through the familiar routine while watching his unexpected guest.
" So what troubles you today? I hope we still have the basement levels intact..?"
A glare. Restless hands resolutely hidden in too-wide sleeves.
" Did you read my latest report yet?"
He shrugged, finishing stirring the tea.
" Not yet. You've all kept yourselves commendably busy while I was away; I've been playing catch-up since I returned."
Just a hint of acerbic displeasure. He was fairly sure at least half of Zexion's and Lexaeus' reports were a lot more extensive than they needed to be, and Vexen's research reports were never anything less than virtual bricks of droning, stilted science-lingo longwinded enough to give anyone a migraine.
" Was it urgent?"
Vexen's turn to shrug slightly, still looking quite uncomfortable in his seat.
" Somewhat. I need… to know in which direction to go with any further experimentation. The subjects are much too divided; if we want any answers worth getting, we need to focus our efforts more. I cannot keep up studying replicas and memories if you want me to keep up monitoring the castle's reality-levels as well."
Gaining momentum as he spoke, the older man finished with an all but accusing frown in his direction.
" Are you saying the tasks assigned to you are too difficult for you to handle?"
Silken voice, just the barest hint of questioning disapproval. Hints were usually all it took. Sure enough Vexen looked away, giving up without a fight.
" Not too difficult. But… impractical. Perhaps if at least the more mundane tasks could be reassigned to Zexion or Lexaeus…"
There at least he would gladly agree. Dumping the boring chores of supervising the castle's anchors to reality on V or VI seemed like just the right sort of petty revenge for their unnecessarily lengthy reports. He nodded graciously as he served the tea.
" Very well. I'll trust your judgment in this case. Of course I will be expecting all the more impressive results from you with all that extra time on your hands."
Vexen gave him an almost exasperated glare.
" But of course you will."
He smirked as he sat down, deciding he had quite missed his Oblivion while he was away. His castle, his power and his single most entertainingly stubborn subordinate.
Said subordinate was currently fidgeting with his teacup in both hands, seemingly quite absorbed with the green depths of its contents. Definitely on edge. Then again, when wasn't he?
" You're not eating," he pointed out mildly, although he had to admit he couldn't blame the man. Rather than the usual refined lavender biscuits the Dusk had brought back quite horrible greasy cream pastries. It must be new. He made a mental note to have it obliterated.
Vexen looked up, then gave the fluffy atrocity on his plate a dubious look. After a minute of quite heavy silence he made a face, decisively putting his teacup back down.
" I didn't come here for tea and biscuits, Marluxia. Pastries. Whatever that thing is supposed to be."
" Oh..?"
He took a dainty sip from his own cup, studying the other with genuine amusement. He always could tell when Vexen wanted something, holding out until the last possible moment before actually asking. The way he'd squirm while hoping for the other to broach the subject was particularly entertaining. He pointedly kept silent, only slowly arched his eyebrows in askance.
The scientist seemed to already regret having put his teacup down, leaving his hands unoccupied again, and let them fall awkwardly into his lap. He relented enough to at least ask the question.
" Then why are you here?"
Tension and hesitation struggled across the other's face for a full minute until he suddenly rose with a sharp impatient gesture of indecision.
Half expecting him to head for the door in frustration, Marluxia all but choked on his tea when the tall man closed the space between them in one long stride, leaned down with his hands resting against the back of the armchair and gave him quite a deep and ravenous kiss.
Cold, tense lips, the clean taste of green tea against his mouth.
Vexen's eyes held his all the while, an open challenge burning in their depths, to push him away or pull him closer, daring him to laugh or lash out, forceful and utterly fragile at once. He should have known that look from the moment the man entered his room, had he only looked close enough to catch it; defiant shame-tinted need, thinly veiled by crumbling pride and helpless aggravation. Most beautiful of eyes.
As Vexen pulled away, green eyes still holding his; hard and unyielding yet almost pleading, he couldn't help but give a breathless chuckle.
" Ah... You really must have missed me, my lovely… What a warm welcome indeed!"
Affronted, defenses rising, Vexen made as to pull away faced with his amusement, but didn't get far; he caught sand-colored hair sternly in his gloved hands and held the other firmly in place to retaliate with a deep kiss of his own.
Odd how the familiar tea could taste so much sweeter from such bitter lips…
Hands sliding from the back of the armchair to his shoulders, it wasn't many kisses later that Vexen was virtually straddling his lap, shivering, eyes aglow with resentful desire, and they both seemed slightly short of breath. The intensity of that gaze all but pinned him to the spot, so utterly and completely focused on what the man wanted. Him. Now.
He laughed softly and raked his teeth along the other's jaw to give a teasing bite at his ear.
" You will have to ask me," he mumbled, breathing the faint smell of snow from the man's long hair. Vexen gave a hiss and used the grip on his shoulders to push away enough to look him the eyes again.
Proud, still, even here, despite everything.
" I will not beg."
A snarl, unyielding. Another kiss, harsher this time, pressing him back into the back of the chair, not letting him breathe. He had to tear away, gasping for air, the ghost of a smile still on his lips.
" Oh, you may not have to beg… Only let me know just what it is you want."
Vexen all but growled, his eyes narrowed to slits, long bony hands sliding down his shoulders over his chest, still pressing him back into the chair.
" You know damn well what I want."
A kiss angry enough to leave his lips swollen, making it hard to laugh or even smile quite so smugly anymore.
" Bastard."
Muffled voice muttering crossly into the hair by his ear, warm breath from cold lips against the sensitive bare skin of his neck sending a tickling shiver down his spine.
He really shouldn't stand for that sort of talk from a subordinate, not at all, but his coat seemed to be zipped open and burning cold fingertips were sliding over his chest, leaving his skin ablaze wherever they had touched him.
He frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but found himself silenced again by those hard and relentless lips against his, tongue invading his mouth, and suddenly winning that particular battle became much more important than voicing whatever trivial words he had intended to speak.
Eyes noxious as poison, green as envy bore into his, their intensity and focus alone stealing his breath, and as those too-cold fingertips slid downwards, impatiently unbuckling his belt and pants he had to close his eyes for a brief moment of respite. And when long bony fingers closed tight around his already hardening length he jerked, pressing himself helplessly against the almost painful touch, writhing and shuddering. A strangled gasp escaped him, but once again there was that cold-and-warm mouth over his to devour any sound, and he couldn't, truly couldn't pinpoint the precise moment he had utterly lost control over the situation.
Impatient jerky tugs pulled his pants down further, leaving him fully exposed, and he groaned with pleasure as that almost-too-rough hand kneaded and caressed him, the touch not quite so painfully cold anymore; quite obviously he was not only one getting strangely warm and flushed.
And then Vexen raised himself onto his knees, a dark shape looming over him, that wonderful hand leaving him for a moment to fumble with the scientist's own clothes, and he was vaguely aware perhaps he should have helped, but his hands seemed to be quite occupied clawing convulsively at the arms of his chair, and not at all very interested in taking orders from his brain when his primal instincts screamed so much louder. Wide, flaring robes were unzipped just barely enough to be folded aside, pants lowered just enough to be, well, enough, then lips were finding his own again. He was honestly grateful for the asphyxiating kiss or he would have whimpered most pathetically, and that just wouldn't do at all.
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, and then he did whimper and jump at the unexpected cool and slick touch between his legs.
Cream. Sweetened accursed fluffy whipped cream, and that damned, damned dimwitted Dusk just might be spared after all.
He croaked something, quite possibly a mangled attempt at the other's name, pressed back into his chair as he was, pinned down, hands clenching numbly at the armrests, and then without further hesitation Vexen lowered himself into his lap again, focused and determined, drawing a silent ragged breath as he let himself be filled, impaled, taking him all the way inside.
Marluxia gave a low, guttural groan as the coolness was replaced by such tight warmth, feeling the firm squeeze all the way from his curling toes into his guts. Slightly stunned he dared another look at his lover, then groaned again and wished he hadn't; at this rate he would be undone in seconds.
It was undeniably practical, and Vexen probably didn't even realize the effect it had, but the insufferable man was licking the remaining cream from his fingers and damn him to hell for doing it so absentmindedly and unpretentiously.
And then Vexen moved and he couldn't even try to assure himself he had any control over his own mind or body anymore.
Straddling him, draped against him the hard, thin creature before him moved, rising and falling, squeezing him, sliding and rubbing against him, that seemingly lifeless but so very soft hair fanning over his bared chest, and he gasped and moaned quite helplessly with every shift and movement.
He wanted to close his eyes but couldn't bring himself to, despite the brilliance of that calculating gaze being all but blinding; he writhed and shivered, tried to remember to breathe.
It didn't last long, the fervent blaze of the man's desire bright and short-lived. Spreading himself wide open Vexen pressed himself down over him relentlessly, his breathing uneven, tousled hair falling forward to hide his face as the first tremor shook him. Then suddenly he arched his back, rigid as a bow just before the arrow's flight, head falling back, bony fingers digging into his shoulders so hard it hurt. When it came, his release was quick, dry and silent, the tense body shuddering violently, a shadow of near-pain crossing his face.
And then heavy eyelids finally closed on the intensity of those eyes and with a soft sigh the man draped himself bonelessly against him
Short uneven puffs of breath against his collarbone forced him to bite his lip hard to keep silent, and it was a complete mystery to him why he, who had barely moved at all, should be struggling so hard to breathe.
Vexen only needed a few short moments to recover, leaned back briefly to give him an unreadable look before climbing off of him, unceremoniously adjusting his clothes and sweeping his disheveled hair out of his face.
Almost as an afterthought he leaned down, pressed a quick and almost chaste kiss against his lips.
" Thank you for the tea."
Voice dispassionate and matter-of-fact again. And he turned and left.
Marluxia didn't move as he was once again left alone in his chambers, only sat silent and slightly dazed, licking the taste of sweet cream and tea from his lips. His hands were still numbly clutching at the armrests of his chair, crumpled clothes folded aside, his entire being throbbing painfully with pent-up, unreleased desire.
And he knew, beaten fair and square at his own game, that he had just been utterly and undeniably used.