His feet kick and kick, clanging metallically against the table.
The backs of his thighs stick and unstuck to the pleather covering of the examination table.
His shifting causes the sanitary paper beneath his twelve-year-old ass to crinkle with aggravating aplomb.
And his eyes are a screaming witch-fire green.
But he's a puddle of boyish petulance.
One arm hangs limp and shattered and twisted and broken.
Three bones stare up dolefully from where they've ripped their way to the surface would through his skin.
The other pounds petulantly, fist shaking.
Vexen is impressed he isn't crying, finds that horribly endearing, emphasis on horribly.
"Well, Axel…" he begins in that voice which usually sends the boy into reels of laughter.
Axel laughs this time too. Even though his arm is a complete mess and his mother is sobbing and clawing at the door.
Axel laughs wickedly.
"Hurry up and do your job, Doctor Vexen."
The boy is all too familiar; the life of a family physician can sometimes be wearying.
"Of course, Axel, I live only to serve." He considers ripping the boy's arm off, but instead turns to pull on a pair of gloves. "How did you do this?"
"You don't have to know how I did it to know how to fix it."
Vexen rolls his eyes and sweeps his long hair over his shoulder. "It would help to know how best to treat you."
"You know, Doc Vex, I've always hated this room of yours. It's so creepy, the way you've tried to cover up, something so bloodstained, with chasteness and how you try to dull that intensity with grinning pictures of inanimate objects."
Vexen turns then, smiling just like the ridiculous little Jet Plane and the happily dancing construction equipment, the crazed cartoons he has had to look at every waking moment for the past twenty years.
He takes hold of Axel's arm and prods it, sinking his thumb into weak flesh.
The boy makes a pained sound. Tries to jerk away and fails.
"What's wrong?" and it's a whole new level of disrespect. "Are you going to tell me what happened now?"
Axel stiffens up in response to the atmosphere in the room and looks at him warily. He's the cockiest, smartest, most aggravating twelve-year-old you'll ever meet until you put him on edge, right like this, when you make him be serious about the advantage you have over him…
Vexen bends his arm backwards, just a little more.
Axel whines in his throat and snarls.
"Not very Hippocratic, are you Doc?"
"Where did you learn that word?" Vexen wonders pleasantly, pushing it farther back until Axel's shoulder strains as well.
Tears are welling up in the boy's eyes, but he's still smiling, still laughing.
"I can read books and people."
"And what do you read now, Axel?"
"That you hate your job…you hate not being the one to cause the pain…that you want to hurt me right now because I'm too smart and too cocky for a kid, that you don't have the spark in yourself and you're not sure you ever did."
Vexen grabs his hair, forcing his head back, making the boy yelp in surprise.
"You're right," he says calmly. "You're too smart for a kid."
"You wanna fuck me up, huh, Doc?" Axel requests, the angle of his throat making him choke on his words, his growing adam's apple bobbing. It's so tiny, Vexen bites him there, making the boy squeal softly.
"You would like me to."
Axel doesn't reply, only smiles.
Vexen casually releases his head, putting both hands on his arm and snapping the elbow forward.
Axel groans wildly, the tears finally flowing freely down his face.
His arm is bleeding more profusely now, turning the bones a pretty pink color.
Vexen leaves a wet palm mark on Axel's cheek, the boy turns his head of his own volition and licks his own blood from the Doctor's fingertips.
Suckles them into his mouth, past his lips, into his throat, like a whore, like something a little boy should never be, but Axel is because something has introduced him to the world too soon. Vexen wishes it had been him…but he settles himself for breaking the boy now.
Unbuttoning his pants, gripping Axel's blood-red hair, but the boy doesn't need direction, opens his mouth and takes a cock as easily as he does a finger.
And Vexen forces him, holding his head down, Axel's nose buried into the fabric opening around his cock.
Axel chokes and gasps for air through his nose, Vexen pulls his arm a little harder, caressing the bones, forcing them inelegantly, unprofessionally, back beneath the skin, feeling every one of Axel's whimpering sobs force their way up his cock like lightning.
He grinds against Axel's lips, fucks away all of that wit and condescension and youthful arrogance.
Leaves a puddle of cum and wriggling little sperm down his throat.
Axel is crying like a little girl, Vexen tells him so.
Axel smiles and licks his lips and then finally passes out from the pain.
"Axel is here for his checkup, sir."
Vexen nods absently.
He hears the door open and shut.
There's almost silence for minutes and then the naked boy crawls into his lap, the cast on his arm screaming out graffitied well wishes.
Their mouths touch briefly
"How is your arm."
"My throat is dry."
Axel smiles wickedly from the other side of the glass, like he always does.
Vexen snarls, lunging, but only coming to a yelping halt like a dog at the end of its chain.
"You liked fucking me up, didn't you, Doc Vex?"
"You know I did, you backstabbing little shit."
Axel's smile widens. "I liked fucking you up too, can't wait till you get out, Doc Vex."
"I'll kill you."
"Stop teasing me."
"Haven't I grown up nicely?"