'Above The Writhing Dark', Oneshot
Above the Writhing Dark
Oneshot
By: Saschen
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing(s): Zemyx, mentioned/hinted AkuRoku.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, slash relationships, character deaths.
Summary: Demyx meets Zexion at the end of the world…
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters. They are the property of Square Enix and Disney.
***
Up, up, up - one flight of stairs after the other, frantic footsteps echoing off the walls and around the high ceilings as he ran…
Okay. Demyx would admit it - he was frightened. But there was no shame in fear when the world was crumbling; darkness pooling somewhere down in the bowels of the Castle That Never Was, rising to devour them whole. Being afraid of death was perfectly natural; self-preservation and all that. Demyx had always said - lied - that he was scared of nothing, but now there was no one around to taunt him, (Larxene and Marluxia had probably been consumed by now, reduced to the nothingness they were), and perhaps the tight feeling in his throat and chest was actually what kept him going, even when his limbs were seizing up and his muscles screaming at him to stop.
It was all over. There was no getting out of this.
He was going to die.
Perhaps it was idiocy, getting to higher ground; all it would do was prolong his suffering. The awful knowledge that the end was just around the corner ate away at him, but at the same time, he wanted to live. Even if he never got his heart back… he was fine. Just the way he was. He wasn’t ready for it to all be over. He wanted things to be just like they were supposed to be; the odd reconnaissance maybe, but nothing major, then long days to be frittered away with his sitar and joking with Axel and playing cards with Luxord and the others, and the evenings spent with Zexion…
Zexion. Demyx wondered where he was right now. The thought that he could be… gone gave Demyx an odd feeling; almost like an ache somewhere inside. And it wasn’t pleasant.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he and Zexion were, but then, Zexion had never seen fit to clarify with words, and Demyx had stammered and stumbled fruitlessly over the subject so many times that he had just about given up. Their relationship wasn’t about labels; it was more subtle than that. It was a look across a room, and it was being sat next to each other and not wanting to move. It was Zexion listening to Demyx, and Demyx listening to Zexion. It was Demyx letting Zexion touch the sitar. It was Zexion not telling Demyx to go away when he was being annoying.
And then there were the not-so-subtle things too, and it would be an outright lie for Demyx to say that he hadn’t enjoyed them. The members of the Organisation often sought certain no-strings-attached ‘comforts’ from others in the ranks, but the pair hadn’t been intimate with anyone but each other ever since Zexion had let Demyx into his room.
Maybe if they had their hearts… Zexion would be his boyfriend? Maybe the bond between them could even be considered something close to love; but now they would never know. There was no chance of becoming human again, not when death was climbing the stairs. Demyx swallowed down on the lump in his throat, and tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. I’ll really miss him, he thought, before he could stop himself, and then uneasiness trickled over him and he wondered, Can you really miss someone if you’re gone too…?
He was nearing the top; his breath ragged and loud to his own ears, as if his brain had managed to leak out of his skull in the midst of his panic, and the sound was now rattling around in the empty space. He was tired; so incredibly tired from all the running. He couldn’t even open up one of the Corridors of Darkness; they were all seeping the same lethal ooze that was sluggishly, albeit steadily, following his climb.
The castle was a sinking ship, and everyone inside was going down with it, whether they liked it or not.
Demyx had finally made it to the right floor - if nothing else, he could stand outside and take one last look at his reality before it all became meaningless. At the end of the long corridor (it seemed to stretch on for a lot longer than he previously remembered, as if he were in the midst of a nightmare and running towards a door that kept moving further away) there was an ornately-carved archway, leading out onto a large balcony of sorts that looked down onto the city below. Or, at least, it used to. Demyx allowed himself to slow a little as he made it to the arch, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin.
The sky was angry - that was his first thought. A storm was clearly brewing; obscuring the moon completely as dark clouds stained the heavens.
His second, was for Zexion.
“Zex…?” The pale light from the corridor threw the smaller figure into definition; Zexion stood with his back to Demyx, looking down onto the writhing, ominous mass below; just watching it as it reached upwards for them. He turned when Demyx called his name - apparently, he hadn’t heard him arrive. Hadn’t even caught his scent, which was also unusual; Zexion was known for his sensitive nose. He had obviously been overly preoccupied with his thoughts, whatever they were.
…Maybe Zexion didn’t want to die either.
“Demyx.” He actually looked shocked; an expression Demyx rarely saw on him. His uncovered eye was wide as he stared at him. “You’re…” he began, but then stopped, closing his mouth with an abrupt snap of teeth. To say ‘you’re okay’ would be stating the obvious.
Something Demyx wasn’t above. “I’m okay,” he said, still a little breathless. “And so are you,” he added, as if to cement the fact, and Zexion dropped his gaze.
There was a pause. “…Are we?” Zexion murmured, and Demyx only just managed to hear him over the moan of the wind. There was a strange look in his eye - one that said all sorts of things Zexion had never been able to articulate before. Things that Demyx probably wouldn’t even understand. It was a kind of sadness, maybe. And still weirdly calm - but then, it seemed that Zexion was always collected and in control. “I don’t think we’re okay, Demyx.”
There was an actual tremor to his voice, and it left Demyx more than just a little unnerved.
“Sure we are,” Demyx lied, words catching on his nervous laugh, and he suddenly felt like crying. There they were; stood on the top of a dying world, and he couldn’t find the right words to say. Trust him to muck everything up when it was important not to. “Right now we are.”
“We have about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes at the best.”
Demyx looked at the floor, shuffling his feet nervously. He chose not to comment on the statement; after all, nothing he could say would change matters. “Is there anyone else up here?” he asked instead, and Zexion gave a brief nod of affirmation.
“Only those who weren’t quick enough to escape the lower levels have been killed - it’s only logical that there must be more of us, but I’ve only seen Axel as of yet. He was looking for Roxas.” Zexion’s gaze travelled upwards, to the gathering maelstrom above their heads. “In time, I suppose it won’t matter,” he added, somewhat distantly. “Not long left, really.”
Demyx licked his lips anxiously. “Zexion?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared.”
There was a long pause. It was a dangerous thing to admit to another Nobody, but as far as Demyx was concerned, Zexion was different to most of the others. He could show him every weakness in the universe and still trust him with them. The Schemer met Demyx’s gaze, and proved it. “I know - it’s okay. Me too.” They might not have long left, but honesty meant a lot; particularly in a castle otherwise full of lies and deception. There might have been a time when Zexion would have been scornful-
“Scared, Demyx? No - you only think you’re scared. Hearts can know fear; we are Nobodies. It’s just the memory of what you once were, tricking you into believing that you can feel…”
-but it was long gone, and that knowledge alone was enough for Demyx to close the distance between them (barely more than a metre, but still far too much); folding himself against Zexion, his head dropping down onto the smaller Nobody’s shoulder and his hands fisting in the black material of his coat. A gloved hand came up to rub the back of Demyx’s neck, and the other settled on the small of his back, holding him close.
It started to rain. The sky seemed to split open as the sudden downpour started; droplets bouncing off the cold stone slabs beneath their feet. Within a matter of seconds they were both drenched, but Zexion didn’t let Demyx go when he tried to unwind himself from him.
“We should probably get inside,” Demyx said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the storm. Zexion shook his head, blue hair sticking to his cheek where it was wet from the rain. “What? Why?”
“Waste of time. Everyone’ll be inside.”
“But… but Zex, it’s-”
“Shhhh…” Zexion tilted Demyx’s chin downwards, just enough to align their mouths in a fierce kiss. Demyx’s mind went blank, his train of thought coming to a juddering halt, and he was breathless when Zexion pulled away a little.
“Zexion… what…?”
There was an odd, but very much familiar expression on his face, and Demyx’s nerves leapt in sudden recognition.
“Let me have you,” Zexion whispered against his lips, moving closer again, “one last time. Please, Demyx.” Demyx inhaled sharply as Zexion’s fingers dug into his forearms, and then closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Zexion’s. It seemed that, when everything else was deteriorating, Zexion was the only thing that made sense anymore. The only thing he truly had left…
“Yeah…” he mumbled, brushing his mouth over Zexion’s again, softly at first, then a little more forcefully, his hands coming up to tangle in the Schemer’s hair. “Yeah, okay…”
Then Zexion’s tongue slipped into his mouth, one hand sliding down to dip underneath the long Organisation coat, and Demyx forgot how to think…
***
There was another body pressed flush against his own, a gloveless hand palming his skin beneath the heavy material of the coat, and his blood was racing through his veins in a way it only ever did when he was with him.
Zexion - his slight weight pinning Demyx to the cold slabs, spreading him out for his hungry eyes and hands, fingertips sliding up his chest and making him gasp openly… Demyx squirmed as the zip of the coat was slowly, torturously slowly pulled down, the metal clicking as each of the individual teeth snapped free. There was that familiar ache between his legs again, and he couldn’t stop the thin whimper that escaped his throat as Zexion bore down with his hips, pressing-
“Uh… a-aah…”
His head fell back against the floor as his shirt was hitched up too, and a hot mouth slid over his sensitive skin, teasingly circling a nipple. It seemed that this was one of those times; Zexion’s touch was urgent, the trembling in his frame a testament to his want. Demyx writhed desperately beneath him as his teeth closed over the nub, tugging gently, and the skin pulled into a tight peak under his ministrations.
And God - Demyx wanted him. All of him. He did his best to forget that it was The Last Time, to forget that they were soaking wet and moving frantically on the floor as if they were a pair of animals. There was nothing but Zexion - just him, something to focus on; even as Demyx felt lost in the sea of sensation that rushed to claim him, overloading his system and scraping deliciously over his already sensitive nerves. He hastily pulled off his gloves and let his hands move to Zexion’s own zip, drawing it down a lot faster than Zexion had opened Demyx’s coat, and inside to attack the buttons of his shirt.
His fingers slackened and lost their purchase as he felt the push again down there, and Zexion’s hand was taking in the length of him through the sodden layers of his trousers and shorts; rubbing him insistently, pressing a thumb deliberately against the sensitive flesh of the head just to hear Demyx gasp.
“Zexion…” Demyx writhed again, needing more contact; anything for more friction where he needed it most. “Zex - please…”
“Shhhh…I’ve got you…” Zexion sounded strained. They were both panting heavily, and their breathing hitched in unison as Zexion unfastened Demyx’s trousers, forcing his hand beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts in one swift movement. In between one second and the next, Zexion’s hand had closed over Demyx’s moist hardness, and the younger Nobody cried out at the sudden contact. “This is what you want…?” he asked, voice low.
“Y-y- aah!” Zexion’s thumb was pressing against his slit, rubbing right there and spreading his fluids over the shaft, working him roughly. It didn’t seem fair, surely he should have had his hands all over Zexion by now? The aching in his balls and the thought that really, Zexion wouldn’t be needing his shirt anymore spurred him on, and there was a ripping noise as the buttons gave way beneath Demyx’s fists, and he literally tore the garment from the smaller frame.
Zexion froze, seemingly shocked as the buttons scattered around them, bouncing like the rain on the stone flooring. He remained motionless for a brief moment, one hand still wrapped tightly around Demyx’s cock (still throbbing, pulsating against his palm), and the other supporting himself as he leaned over the teenager. The look on his face was blank, as if he were considering this latest turn of events and the appropriate consequences to be delivered, and Demyx was afraid for a moment that Zexion would pull away…
There was a clap of thunder above their heads.
Zexion moved.
A yell cut over the howl of the wind, muffled by Zexion’s mouth coming down to claim Demyx’s in a possessive kiss, as Zexion ground his hips down onto his lover’s, rocking in an urgent rhythm. Demyx tore away from Zexion’s lips, breathless, giving Zexion room to attack his throat; kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive underside of his jaw, moving up to his ear to murmur there-
“My shirt, Demyx…”
Demyx sucked in a breath. “I… I’m s-sorry…”
There was a brief flash of teeth as Zexion pulled back. “Not yet,” he whispered, and there was something deliberately ominous in his tone. He lunged again, roughly mouthing this time over Demyx’s collarbone.
Demyx couldn’t breathe. His skin prickled everywhere they connected; Zexion’s hands and lips teasing him until he thought he couldn’t take any more, pulling back at maddening intervals that had him keening softly for more. He wanted it so badly… he wanted…
His hands trembled as he slid his own trousers down over his hips, further exposing himself to the cool air. The tip of his leaking sex, purple and glistening wetly, was curving upwards to touch his belly, he was so far gone. “Z-Zexion…” he moaned, eyes pleading, pupils blown wide with desire. He didn’t bother kicking off his trousers completely, the material now wrapped around his knees, allowing his fingers to crawl back upwards instead; running over his inner thighs, then down behind his own sac to nudge purposefully at his hidden place.
A sharp intake of breath. “Demyx…”
“Come on…” Demyx twisted a little, spine arching off the floor. He applied a little pressure with two fingers, pressing against his sphincter and making certain that Zexion knew exactly what he was doing. The action sent a ripple of something across his pelvis and along the length of his spine. “P-please Zex.”
Zexion frowned. Behind his eyes, the cogs were turning; no protection and no lube. Whilst the former didn’t really matter anymore, given the circumstances… “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told Demyx, gripping him at the elbow and forcing the hand to resurface.
“You won’t,” Demyx protested, but his voice died in his throat as Zexion pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand.
“No. I won’t,” Zexion agreed, coaxing him to lie flat again. Demyx hands crept up his hips before he could stop them, nimble sitarist’s fingers quickly, expertly unbuttoning his fly. He didn’t have time to even react before those fingers were sliding over the rigid flesh, heated and slick from the precome dribbling from the swollen head, and he couldn’t help the groan that bubbled up inside him.
“Come on-”
“Demyx…” A warning.
“It’ll only burn f-for a few seconds, I really don’t ca-aaah!” In a fluid motion, Zexion had the younger Nobody’s arms pinned above his head, held tightly at the wrists to prevent him wriggling free, and he pushed down with his hips until his aching cock was sliding against Demyx’s own; establishing a quick rhythm almost immediately. Back and forward and perfect, and Demyx just barely heard Zexion’s muffled curse over the sound of the rain and the racing of his pulse in his ears.
He whined, caught helplessly beneath Zexion - deceptively strong despite his smaller figure. The Schemer rocked again and again, and Demyx’s hips were being pushed back over the stone flooring, his back arching to fit them together more completely. Zexion gripped both legs just below the knee, hooking them about his waist, and upped his pace; pushing harder, faster against Demyx…
It was good. More than good - if Zexion kept that up, Demyx was going to lose it completely; he could already feel his oncoming orgasm licking hot and promising up his spine, and the building pressure in his sac. Demyx let his head roll backwards, eyes fixed skywards and a weird mix of what had to be emotion welling up inside; it was their last time. Their last time, and they were having sex in a thunderstorm.
Part of him, the one that wasn’t rapidly turning to mush, wanted to ask Zexion whether or not it was dangerous, but he wasn’t sure Zexion would even hear him.
There was a red flush to Zexion’s cheeks, blossoming under the otherwise pallid skin in a way that made Demyx think that, yeah, he really is beautiful, despite the fact that they were both sweating and breathing heavily from the (wonderful, torturous) exertion. Whether or not Zexion would be able to answer him was debatable; his self-control was better than Demyx’s, but he couldn’t have been far behind and the Nocturne was already down to broken syllables, spilling uncontrollably past his reddened lips. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time; drowning in Zexion. His scent. His slight weight across his hips…
If Demyx was losing his mind, he found he didn’t care.
It was nearing, he could feel it - so close to the edge. Every push sent him closer; the tension across his abdomen spiking at intervals as his vision began to swim, his gasping mouth wide open, and the top of his head touching the floor as his body snapped taut and rigid like one of his sitar strings. Zexion was panting a mantra that sounded undeniably close to his name; there was hot breath on his cheek and hands twisted in his hair and Zexion’s hardness working against his own, and in the knowledge that all of it was for him, Demyx felt himself topple over the precipice.
Pleasure exploded in his groin; white-hot tendrils arcing up his chest and over his shuddering thighs as they locked tight around Zexion’s waist. He cried out sharply and came copiously between them; the evidence smeared on both of their abdomens as ropes of his seed painted their skin. It felt like it lasted a lifetime, and he surrendered to it completely; swept away by the intensity, limbs suddenly heavy and too lax to move.
He heard the answering shout and felt the reflexive tremor in Zexion’s body. Wide, dark eyes were staring into his own, sliding shut as Zexion came undone himself; soaking them both again and moving on the slickness between their bodies as he jerked a few last trembling thrusts. Demyx stared up at him, absently studying his face as Zexion’s orgasm took hold and shook him hard; the picture of his partner (superior, best friend, lover) seared into his memory. Even when Zexion slumped forwards, boneless and limp over Demyx’s chest, he was still there in Demyx’s head; trapped forever in that perfect moment.
Their breathing slowed and their bodies cooled, and when Zexion pressed a kiss to Demyx’s mouth, Demyx exhaled a happy sigh, and let himself melt into it.
***
They lay together in the aftermath; tangled in a mess of limbs and sodden clothing that was half hanging off, bearing skin to the cool air. Zexion tugged Demyx’s coat (unzipped and thrown over them) higher in an effort to keep them warm. The rain seemed to have finally eased off a little, and Demyx felt a strange sense of peace.
He curled closer to Zexion, slinging an arm over his chest (bared due to the damage Demyx had inflicted on his shirt buttons), and wondered if Axel ever found Roxas in the end.
“…Zexion?” he asked. The older Nobody was so still, so calm, Demyx actually thought he might have fallen asleep.
Zexion drew in a long breath. “Hmmm?” He sounded tired.
“Are you okay?” Zexion’s mouth twitched upwards in one corner, and he turned to press a lazy kiss to Demyx’s forehead. Demyx smiled. “Hey - that’s not an answer.” They relaxed into amiable silence; sated, just listening to the rhythmic patter of the rain and the dying wind as it played about the rooftops and turrets above them.
After a few minutes, Demyx opened his mouth again. “How long do you think we have now?” he whispered into Zexion’s skin, his mouth against his throat. He felt Zexion give a slight shake of his head.
“Not long,” he said quietly, and the arm around Demyx’s shoulders tightened a little. Demyx pulled away just enough to look into Zexion’s face, propping himself up on his elbows. A pause. “What are you looking at me like that for?” Zexion asked, giving him a gentle, almost affectionate cuff around the head.
Demyx caught his hand and pressed it to his cheek. “You ready?”
“What’s with all the questions all of a sudden?”
“These’ll be the last words we say. Ever.” Demyx’s chest felt suddenly tight. Saying it made it all feel a lot more real. “I want to hear you talk to me.”
Zexion’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “Okay,” he said, “I’m not ready.” He pulled Demyx closer again, not caring that the teenager was nearly crushing him. “But it’s alright. Why worry over what can’t be changed?” He bit his lower lip, wiping some of the moisture from his face. It was a futile effort; the rain still hadn’t completely stopped yet. “I suppose you want to go inside again?”
Demyx shook his head, and Zexion looked at him questioningly. “It’s going to happen anyway; I’d rather…” Demyx faltered, and the decoration on Zexion’s coat suddenly became very interesting as he averted his gaze. “I’d rather it just be me and you,” he admitted, fingers toying with the thread. “There’s no one else out here.”
“This isn’t going to be pleasant, Demyx,” Zexion told him carefully. It was probably difficult for him; not being able to just fix everything like he normally did. Usually, if Demyx ever had a problem, he would be the one to right things, but now he really wasn’t in control anymore. The situation was completely out of his hands - out of anyone’s hands, really.
“I know.” Demyx looked up at him with a nervous grin. “But as you said - it’s alright.” He shifted to one side so he wasn’t lying on Zexion anymore, curling around him instead, still holding tightly. “Everything’ll be okay. You and me, Zex - there’s no one I’d rather go with than you.” Zexion said nothing, but the kiss he pressed to Demyx’s cheek spoke everything Demyx needed to hear.
Time passed, during which Demyx’s world narrowed down to nothing but him and Zexion, quietly awaiting death on that little balcony. He closed his eyes, feeling weirdly comfortable and relaxed; the strange sense of peace had returned, and he found that the darkness creeping up over the side of the low wall really didn’t matter to him anymore. He didn’t even look, in fact; wrapped snugly around Zexion. Zexion might not be able to save them from death, but Demyx knew that he was safe, in the sense that he didn’t have to be frightened anymore. It was enough.
It moved in an arc around them, creeping over the cold flagstones, and then Demyx could feel it; a strange pressure at his back as the ooze reached out for them, beginning to creep up over his side, burning as it touched bare flesh, and he didn’t give a damn about all this hearts rubbish; he’d never been one to keep his thoughts to himself and he was going to say it anyway-
“I love you.”
“…”
A long moment passed. Zexion didn’t move, and Demyx froze. The sudden, cold rush of hurt and humiliation tore at him in ways worse than the liquid darkness could ever even hope to achieve. The empty space where his heart would be, were he human, was probably bleeding miserably away by now, and to add insult to injury, a little voice inside his head was laughing at him, chuckling to itself. He’s not going to say it… He’s not going to. Demyx, you absolute idiot…
There was another pause, and then the arms around him tightened, soothing fingers moving over the back of his neck. Zexion’s lips curved into a slow smile as he murmured his reply; bringing his mouth to Demyx’s in their last kiss, and maybe Demyx didn’t need a heart after all, because he was certain he had never felt like this even before he lost it.
Everything was okay. Demyx smiled into the kiss, and let himself go; as if they were merely falling asleep together, back in Zexion’s room, wrapped up in cool, familiar-smelling sheets.
Eyes slid shut, and in that private moment, the two of them disappeared into the darkness together.
***
Oneshot
By: Saschen
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing(s): Zemyx, mentioned/hinted AkuRoku.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, slash relationships, character deaths.
Summary: Demyx meets Zexion at the end of the world…
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters. They are the property of Square Enix and Disney.
***
Up, up, up - one flight of stairs after the other, frantic footsteps echoing off the walls and around the high ceilings as he ran…
Okay. Demyx would admit it - he was frightened. But there was no shame in fear when the world was crumbling; darkness pooling somewhere down in the bowels of the Castle That Never Was, rising to devour them whole. Being afraid of death was perfectly natural; self-preservation and all that. Demyx had always said - lied - that he was scared of nothing, but now there was no one around to taunt him, (Larxene and Marluxia had probably been consumed by now, reduced to the nothingness they were), and perhaps the tight feeling in his throat and chest was actually what kept him going, even when his limbs were seizing up and his muscles screaming at him to stop.
It was all over. There was no getting out of this.
He was going to die.
Perhaps it was idiocy, getting to higher ground; all it would do was prolong his suffering. The awful knowledge that the end was just around the corner ate away at him, but at the same time, he wanted to live. Even if he never got his heart back… he was fine. Just the way he was. He wasn’t ready for it to all be over. He wanted things to be just like they were supposed to be; the odd reconnaissance maybe, but nothing major, then long days to be frittered away with his sitar and joking with Axel and playing cards with Luxord and the others, and the evenings spent with Zexion…
Zexion. Demyx wondered where he was right now. The thought that he could be… gone gave Demyx an odd feeling; almost like an ache somewhere inside. And it wasn’t pleasant.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he and Zexion were, but then, Zexion had never seen fit to clarify with words, and Demyx had stammered and stumbled fruitlessly over the subject so many times that he had just about given up. Their relationship wasn’t about labels; it was more subtle than that. It was a look across a room, and it was being sat next to each other and not wanting to move. It was Zexion listening to Demyx, and Demyx listening to Zexion. It was Demyx letting Zexion touch the sitar. It was Zexion not telling Demyx to go away when he was being annoying.
And then there were the not-so-subtle things too, and it would be an outright lie for Demyx to say that he hadn’t enjoyed them. The members of the Organisation often sought certain no-strings-attached ‘comforts’ from others in the ranks, but the pair hadn’t been intimate with anyone but each other ever since Zexion had let Demyx into his room.
Maybe if they had their hearts… Zexion would be his boyfriend? Maybe the bond between them could even be considered something close to love; but now they would never know. There was no chance of becoming human again, not when death was climbing the stairs. Demyx swallowed down on the lump in his throat, and tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. I’ll really miss him, he thought, before he could stop himself, and then uneasiness trickled over him and he wondered, Can you really miss someone if you’re gone too…?
He was nearing the top; his breath ragged and loud to his own ears, as if his brain had managed to leak out of his skull in the midst of his panic, and the sound was now rattling around in the empty space. He was tired; so incredibly tired from all the running. He couldn’t even open up one of the Corridors of Darkness; they were all seeping the same lethal ooze that was sluggishly, albeit steadily, following his climb.
The castle was a sinking ship, and everyone inside was going down with it, whether they liked it or not.
Demyx had finally made it to the right floor - if nothing else, he could stand outside and take one last look at his reality before it all became meaningless. At the end of the long corridor (it seemed to stretch on for a lot longer than he previously remembered, as if he were in the midst of a nightmare and running towards a door that kept moving further away) there was an ornately-carved archway, leading out onto a large balcony of sorts that looked down onto the city below. Or, at least, it used to. Demyx allowed himself to slow a little as he made it to the arch, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin.
The sky was angry - that was his first thought. A storm was clearly brewing; obscuring the moon completely as dark clouds stained the heavens.
His second, was for Zexion.
“Zex…?” The pale light from the corridor threw the smaller figure into definition; Zexion stood with his back to Demyx, looking down onto the writhing, ominous mass below; just watching it as it reached upwards for them. He turned when Demyx called his name - apparently, he hadn’t heard him arrive. Hadn’t even caught his scent, which was also unusual; Zexion was known for his sensitive nose. He had obviously been overly preoccupied with his thoughts, whatever they were.
…Maybe Zexion didn’t want to die either.
“Demyx.” He actually looked shocked; an expression Demyx rarely saw on him. His uncovered eye was wide as he stared at him. “You’re…” he began, but then stopped, closing his mouth with an abrupt snap of teeth. To say ‘you’re okay’ would be stating the obvious.
Something Demyx wasn’t above. “I’m okay,” he said, still a little breathless. “And so are you,” he added, as if to cement the fact, and Zexion dropped his gaze.
There was a pause. “…Are we?” Zexion murmured, and Demyx only just managed to hear him over the moan of the wind. There was a strange look in his eye - one that said all sorts of things Zexion had never been able to articulate before. Things that Demyx probably wouldn’t even understand. It was a kind of sadness, maybe. And still weirdly calm - but then, it seemed that Zexion was always collected and in control. “I don’t think we’re okay, Demyx.”
There was an actual tremor to his voice, and it left Demyx more than just a little unnerved.
“Sure we are,” Demyx lied, words catching on his nervous laugh, and he suddenly felt like crying. There they were; stood on the top of a dying world, and he couldn’t find the right words to say. Trust him to muck everything up when it was important not to. “Right now we are.”
“We have about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes at the best.”
Demyx looked at the floor, shuffling his feet nervously. He chose not to comment on the statement; after all, nothing he could say would change matters. “Is there anyone else up here?” he asked instead, and Zexion gave a brief nod of affirmation.
“Only those who weren’t quick enough to escape the lower levels have been killed - it’s only logical that there must be more of us, but I’ve only seen Axel as of yet. He was looking for Roxas.” Zexion’s gaze travelled upwards, to the gathering maelstrom above their heads. “In time, I suppose it won’t matter,” he added, somewhat distantly. “Not long left, really.”
Demyx licked his lips anxiously. “Zexion?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared.”
There was a long pause. It was a dangerous thing to admit to another Nobody, but as far as Demyx was concerned, Zexion was different to most of the others. He could show him every weakness in the universe and still trust him with them. The Schemer met Demyx’s gaze, and proved it. “I know - it’s okay. Me too.” They might not have long left, but honesty meant a lot; particularly in a castle otherwise full of lies and deception. There might have been a time when Zexion would have been scornful-
“Scared, Demyx? No - you only think you’re scared. Hearts can know fear; we are Nobodies. It’s just the memory of what you once were, tricking you into believing that you can feel…”
-but it was long gone, and that knowledge alone was enough for Demyx to close the distance between them (barely more than a metre, but still far too much); folding himself against Zexion, his head dropping down onto the smaller Nobody’s shoulder and his hands fisting in the black material of his coat. A gloved hand came up to rub the back of Demyx’s neck, and the other settled on the small of his back, holding him close.
It started to rain. The sky seemed to split open as the sudden downpour started; droplets bouncing off the cold stone slabs beneath their feet. Within a matter of seconds they were both drenched, but Zexion didn’t let Demyx go when he tried to unwind himself from him.
“We should probably get inside,” Demyx said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the storm. Zexion shook his head, blue hair sticking to his cheek where it was wet from the rain. “What? Why?”
“Waste of time. Everyone’ll be inside.”
“But… but Zex, it’s-”
“Shhhh…” Zexion tilted Demyx’s chin downwards, just enough to align their mouths in a fierce kiss. Demyx’s mind went blank, his train of thought coming to a juddering halt, and he was breathless when Zexion pulled away a little.
“Zexion… what…?”
There was an odd, but very much familiar expression on his face, and Demyx’s nerves leapt in sudden recognition.
“Let me have you,” Zexion whispered against his lips, moving closer again, “one last time. Please, Demyx.” Demyx inhaled sharply as Zexion’s fingers dug into his forearms, and then closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Zexion’s. It seemed that, when everything else was deteriorating, Zexion was the only thing that made sense anymore. The only thing he truly had left…
“Yeah…” he mumbled, brushing his mouth over Zexion’s again, softly at first, then a little more forcefully, his hands coming up to tangle in the Schemer’s hair. “Yeah, okay…”
Then Zexion’s tongue slipped into his mouth, one hand sliding down to dip underneath the long Organisation coat, and Demyx forgot how to think…
***
There was another body pressed flush against his own, a gloveless hand palming his skin beneath the heavy material of the coat, and his blood was racing through his veins in a way it only ever did when he was with him.
Zexion - his slight weight pinning Demyx to the cold slabs, spreading him out for his hungry eyes and hands, fingertips sliding up his chest and making him gasp openly… Demyx squirmed as the zip of the coat was slowly, torturously slowly pulled down, the metal clicking as each of the individual teeth snapped free. There was that familiar ache between his legs again, and he couldn’t stop the thin whimper that escaped his throat as Zexion bore down with his hips, pressing-
“Uh… a-aah…”
His head fell back against the floor as his shirt was hitched up too, and a hot mouth slid over his sensitive skin, teasingly circling a nipple. It seemed that this was one of those times; Zexion’s touch was urgent, the trembling in his frame a testament to his want. Demyx writhed desperately beneath him as his teeth closed over the nub, tugging gently, and the skin pulled into a tight peak under his ministrations.
And God - Demyx wanted him. All of him. He did his best to forget that it was The Last Time, to forget that they were soaking wet and moving frantically on the floor as if they were a pair of animals. There was nothing but Zexion - just him, something to focus on; even as Demyx felt lost in the sea of sensation that rushed to claim him, overloading his system and scraping deliciously over his already sensitive nerves. He hastily pulled off his gloves and let his hands move to Zexion’s own zip, drawing it down a lot faster than Zexion had opened Demyx’s coat, and inside to attack the buttons of his shirt.
His fingers slackened and lost their purchase as he felt the push again down there, and Zexion’s hand was taking in the length of him through the sodden layers of his trousers and shorts; rubbing him insistently, pressing a thumb deliberately against the sensitive flesh of the head just to hear Demyx gasp.
“Zexion…” Demyx writhed again, needing more contact; anything for more friction where he needed it most. “Zex - please…”
“Shhhh…I’ve got you…” Zexion sounded strained. They were both panting heavily, and their breathing hitched in unison as Zexion unfastened Demyx’s trousers, forcing his hand beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts in one swift movement. In between one second and the next, Zexion’s hand had closed over Demyx’s moist hardness, and the younger Nobody cried out at the sudden contact. “This is what you want…?” he asked, voice low.
“Y-y- aah!” Zexion’s thumb was pressing against his slit, rubbing right there and spreading his fluids over the shaft, working him roughly. It didn’t seem fair, surely he should have had his hands all over Zexion by now? The aching in his balls and the thought that really, Zexion wouldn’t be needing his shirt anymore spurred him on, and there was a ripping noise as the buttons gave way beneath Demyx’s fists, and he literally tore the garment from the smaller frame.
Zexion froze, seemingly shocked as the buttons scattered around them, bouncing like the rain on the stone flooring. He remained motionless for a brief moment, one hand still wrapped tightly around Demyx’s cock (still throbbing, pulsating against his palm), and the other supporting himself as he leaned over the teenager. The look on his face was blank, as if he were considering this latest turn of events and the appropriate consequences to be delivered, and Demyx was afraid for a moment that Zexion would pull away…
There was a clap of thunder above their heads.
Zexion moved.
A yell cut over the howl of the wind, muffled by Zexion’s mouth coming down to claim Demyx’s in a possessive kiss, as Zexion ground his hips down onto his lover’s, rocking in an urgent rhythm. Demyx tore away from Zexion’s lips, breathless, giving Zexion room to attack his throat; kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive underside of his jaw, moving up to his ear to murmur there-
“My shirt, Demyx…”
Demyx sucked in a breath. “I… I’m s-sorry…”
There was a brief flash of teeth as Zexion pulled back. “Not yet,” he whispered, and there was something deliberately ominous in his tone. He lunged again, roughly mouthing this time over Demyx’s collarbone.
Demyx couldn’t breathe. His skin prickled everywhere they connected; Zexion’s hands and lips teasing him until he thought he couldn’t take any more, pulling back at maddening intervals that had him keening softly for more. He wanted it so badly… he wanted…
His hands trembled as he slid his own trousers down over his hips, further exposing himself to the cool air. The tip of his leaking sex, purple and glistening wetly, was curving upwards to touch his belly, he was so far gone. “Z-Zexion…” he moaned, eyes pleading, pupils blown wide with desire. He didn’t bother kicking off his trousers completely, the material now wrapped around his knees, allowing his fingers to crawl back upwards instead; running over his inner thighs, then down behind his own sac to nudge purposefully at his hidden place.
A sharp intake of breath. “Demyx…”
“Come on…” Demyx twisted a little, spine arching off the floor. He applied a little pressure with two fingers, pressing against his sphincter and making certain that Zexion knew exactly what he was doing. The action sent a ripple of something across his pelvis and along the length of his spine. “P-please Zex.”
Zexion frowned. Behind his eyes, the cogs were turning; no protection and no lube. Whilst the former didn’t really matter anymore, given the circumstances… “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told Demyx, gripping him at the elbow and forcing the hand to resurface.
“You won’t,” Demyx protested, but his voice died in his throat as Zexion pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand.
“No. I won’t,” Zexion agreed, coaxing him to lie flat again. Demyx hands crept up his hips before he could stop them, nimble sitarist’s fingers quickly, expertly unbuttoning his fly. He didn’t have time to even react before those fingers were sliding over the rigid flesh, heated and slick from the precome dribbling from the swollen head, and he couldn’t help the groan that bubbled up inside him.
“Come on-”
“Demyx…” A warning.
“It’ll only burn f-for a few seconds, I really don’t ca-aaah!” In a fluid motion, Zexion had the younger Nobody’s arms pinned above his head, held tightly at the wrists to prevent him wriggling free, and he pushed down with his hips until his aching cock was sliding against Demyx’s own; establishing a quick rhythm almost immediately. Back and forward and perfect, and Demyx just barely heard Zexion’s muffled curse over the sound of the rain and the racing of his pulse in his ears.
He whined, caught helplessly beneath Zexion - deceptively strong despite his smaller figure. The Schemer rocked again and again, and Demyx’s hips were being pushed back over the stone flooring, his back arching to fit them together more completely. Zexion gripped both legs just below the knee, hooking them about his waist, and upped his pace; pushing harder, faster against Demyx…
It was good. More than good - if Zexion kept that up, Demyx was going to lose it completely; he could already feel his oncoming orgasm licking hot and promising up his spine, and the building pressure in his sac. Demyx let his head roll backwards, eyes fixed skywards and a weird mix of what had to be emotion welling up inside; it was their last time. Their last time, and they were having sex in a thunderstorm.
Part of him, the one that wasn’t rapidly turning to mush, wanted to ask Zexion whether or not it was dangerous, but he wasn’t sure Zexion would even hear him.
There was a red flush to Zexion’s cheeks, blossoming under the otherwise pallid skin in a way that made Demyx think that, yeah, he really is beautiful, despite the fact that they were both sweating and breathing heavily from the (wonderful, torturous) exertion. Whether or not Zexion would be able to answer him was debatable; his self-control was better than Demyx’s, but he couldn’t have been far behind and the Nocturne was already down to broken syllables, spilling uncontrollably past his reddened lips. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time; drowning in Zexion. His scent. His slight weight across his hips…
If Demyx was losing his mind, he found he didn’t care.
It was nearing, he could feel it - so close to the edge. Every push sent him closer; the tension across his abdomen spiking at intervals as his vision began to swim, his gasping mouth wide open, and the top of his head touching the floor as his body snapped taut and rigid like one of his sitar strings. Zexion was panting a mantra that sounded undeniably close to his name; there was hot breath on his cheek and hands twisted in his hair and Zexion’s hardness working against his own, and in the knowledge that all of it was for him, Demyx felt himself topple over the precipice.
Pleasure exploded in his groin; white-hot tendrils arcing up his chest and over his shuddering thighs as they locked tight around Zexion’s waist. He cried out sharply and came copiously between them; the evidence smeared on both of their abdomens as ropes of his seed painted their skin. It felt like it lasted a lifetime, and he surrendered to it completely; swept away by the intensity, limbs suddenly heavy and too lax to move.
He heard the answering shout and felt the reflexive tremor in Zexion’s body. Wide, dark eyes were staring into his own, sliding shut as Zexion came undone himself; soaking them both again and moving on the slickness between their bodies as he jerked a few last trembling thrusts. Demyx stared up at him, absently studying his face as Zexion’s orgasm took hold and shook him hard; the picture of his partner (superior, best friend, lover) seared into his memory. Even when Zexion slumped forwards, boneless and limp over Demyx’s chest, he was still there in Demyx’s head; trapped forever in that perfect moment.
Their breathing slowed and their bodies cooled, and when Zexion pressed a kiss to Demyx’s mouth, Demyx exhaled a happy sigh, and let himself melt into it.
***
They lay together in the aftermath; tangled in a mess of limbs and sodden clothing that was half hanging off, bearing skin to the cool air. Zexion tugged Demyx’s coat (unzipped and thrown over them) higher in an effort to keep them warm. The rain seemed to have finally eased off a little, and Demyx felt a strange sense of peace.
He curled closer to Zexion, slinging an arm over his chest (bared due to the damage Demyx had inflicted on his shirt buttons), and wondered if Axel ever found Roxas in the end.
“…Zexion?” he asked. The older Nobody was so still, so calm, Demyx actually thought he might have fallen asleep.
Zexion drew in a long breath. “Hmmm?” He sounded tired.
“Are you okay?” Zexion’s mouth twitched upwards in one corner, and he turned to press a lazy kiss to Demyx’s forehead. Demyx smiled. “Hey - that’s not an answer.” They relaxed into amiable silence; sated, just listening to the rhythmic patter of the rain and the dying wind as it played about the rooftops and turrets above them.
After a few minutes, Demyx opened his mouth again. “How long do you think we have now?” he whispered into Zexion’s skin, his mouth against his throat. He felt Zexion give a slight shake of his head.
“Not long,” he said quietly, and the arm around Demyx’s shoulders tightened a little. Demyx pulled away just enough to look into Zexion’s face, propping himself up on his elbows. A pause. “What are you looking at me like that for?” Zexion asked, giving him a gentle, almost affectionate cuff around the head.
Demyx caught his hand and pressed it to his cheek. “You ready?”
“What’s with all the questions all of a sudden?”
“These’ll be the last words we say. Ever.” Demyx’s chest felt suddenly tight. Saying it made it all feel a lot more real. “I want to hear you talk to me.”
Zexion’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “Okay,” he said, “I’m not ready.” He pulled Demyx closer again, not caring that the teenager was nearly crushing him. “But it’s alright. Why worry over what can’t be changed?” He bit his lower lip, wiping some of the moisture from his face. It was a futile effort; the rain still hadn’t completely stopped yet. “I suppose you want to go inside again?”
Demyx shook his head, and Zexion looked at him questioningly. “It’s going to happen anyway; I’d rather…” Demyx faltered, and the decoration on Zexion’s coat suddenly became very interesting as he averted his gaze. “I’d rather it just be me and you,” he admitted, fingers toying with the thread. “There’s no one else out here.”
“This isn’t going to be pleasant, Demyx,” Zexion told him carefully. It was probably difficult for him; not being able to just fix everything like he normally did. Usually, if Demyx ever had a problem, he would be the one to right things, but now he really wasn’t in control anymore. The situation was completely out of his hands - out of anyone’s hands, really.
“I know.” Demyx looked up at him with a nervous grin. “But as you said - it’s alright.” He shifted to one side so he wasn’t lying on Zexion anymore, curling around him instead, still holding tightly. “Everything’ll be okay. You and me, Zex - there’s no one I’d rather go with than you.” Zexion said nothing, but the kiss he pressed to Demyx’s cheek spoke everything Demyx needed to hear.
Time passed, during which Demyx’s world narrowed down to nothing but him and Zexion, quietly awaiting death on that little balcony. He closed his eyes, feeling weirdly comfortable and relaxed; the strange sense of peace had returned, and he found that the darkness creeping up over the side of the low wall really didn’t matter to him anymore. He didn’t even look, in fact; wrapped snugly around Zexion. Zexion might not be able to save them from death, but Demyx knew that he was safe, in the sense that he didn’t have to be frightened anymore. It was enough.
It moved in an arc around them, creeping over the cold flagstones, and then Demyx could feel it; a strange pressure at his back as the ooze reached out for them, beginning to creep up over his side, burning as it touched bare flesh, and he didn’t give a damn about all this hearts rubbish; he’d never been one to keep his thoughts to himself and he was going to say it anyway-
“I love you.”
“…”
A long moment passed. Zexion didn’t move, and Demyx froze. The sudden, cold rush of hurt and humiliation tore at him in ways worse than the liquid darkness could ever even hope to achieve. The empty space where his heart would be, were he human, was probably bleeding miserably away by now, and to add insult to injury, a little voice inside his head was laughing at him, chuckling to itself. He’s not going to say it… He’s not going to. Demyx, you absolute idiot…
There was another pause, and then the arms around him tightened, soothing fingers moving over the back of his neck. Zexion’s lips curved into a slow smile as he murmured his reply; bringing his mouth to Demyx’s in their last kiss, and maybe Demyx didn’t need a heart after all, because he was certain he had never felt like this even before he lost it.
Everything was okay. Demyx smiled into the kiss, and let himself go; as if they were merely falling asleep together, back in Zexion’s room, wrapped up in cool, familiar-smelling sheets.
Eyes slid shut, and in that private moment, the two of them disappeared into the darkness together.
***