Tool

By: Junsui Kegasu

A/N: Beginning will probably be crap here… I'm having a bit of trouble with it.

Disclaimer: I own not Kingdom Hearts 2… literally. The copy I play is my friend's; the PS2 I play it on is another friend's!

-

Confusion was not an emotion. Confusion was a state of being, something anybody with a brain, be it a genuine one or not, could feel. And yet, of all the things that he lacked as a Nobody, he wished that he could add the troublesome mindset to the list. He could not think of a time in his short nonexistence that he had not been even slightly confused, and when one gets confused so often, one doubts everything and nothing.

If a being without the heart to support it could still channel the memory of an emotion, was it still an emotion? It was a glimpse of something intangible, something that when felt, only made the hazy normality of confusion strengthen until he felt that he was blind to everything, blind as the opponent that made it all come back to the front of his mind where he'd spent so many nights without mornings shoving it away. And their Cause, how could it possibly be true? They had not the existence to be able to have a heart; to try and get another one was futile. And yet there he was, slaying countless tools of the darkness with the regret that once upon a time, they might've been a great person of the world.

Even the greatest person has an ounce of darkness within their very soul, after all. Or so the theories and laws of Existence stated – Roxas was confused about that, too. Axel joked about it with him, told him that he was just a confused little kid, but little kids didn't have the intelligence to think about the things he thought about so deeply. He knew. He wasn't sure how (he'd never met a little kid before) but he just knew. And the things that he knew often confused him more than the things that he did not.

Nobodies, it was dictated, did not dream. Was there a difference, then, between a dream and the colorful images dancing across his closed lids during the few hours of rest he required? Did dreams require emotion to be truly complete? The ones he had reminded him of television, something he had seen on a mission to another world. The pictures moved fluidly across the screen, portraying a story, but their emotions were surreal, too. As a Nobody, the life he played out was like a television program.

If the conclusion he had come to so simply were really that in essence, however, he wouldn't be walking in this direction. If possible, the long, echoing hallways got darker and longer every time he turned into the direction of the farthest bedroom from his own. He had tried every place that the object of his search could possibly be, but his superior was nowhere and this was a last resort. In general, there were no rules stating that members of the Organization could not fraternize among each other in any way, shape, or form, but to go where he was going was just something of unspoken terror. People didn't do it.

It had gotten a stony smirk to work its way onto his lips when he asked Xaldin in the kitchen where he could find Number One. The larger Nobody froze in the midst of chopping vegetables for dinner, turned to him and stared, wide eyed and pale. "Why?" was the question playing all over his features, but he did not ask it because he knew better; Roxas wouldn't answer. Instead, he pointed in the general direction and murmured a few simple specifications before shaking his head and going back to the vegetable. Fear was one state of mind that Roxas could not allow himself to have.

Or so he said to himself as he stood before the heavy, marble door. The colorless, smooth rock reflected the general mood of the castle's inhabitants: none. This door seemed so much bigger than the other doors… Roxas pushed away the slight feeling of intimidation and dread as he reached up with a seemingly confident hand and pulled the knocker. He knocked twice, staring at the Roman numeral I, for it seemed like the polite number to knock, and then waited, forcing back the urge to fidget. Insecurity was not an option.

The World That Never Was had no conception of time, and as he could not remember ever being human (one of his reasons for this spontaneous visit) he thus could not what passing through time felt like. He decided to talk to Luxord about that concept later, but right now he was sure that the time lapse he had been standing there for was called an eternity. Patience lacking for the time being, he reached up again, ready to knock more instantly (though the sound of marble against marble was as hollow and emotionless as the rest of the building portrayed) when the heavy door swung open and he froze, hand raised and poised to grab.

"Number Thirteen," Xemnas greeted, feigning pleasant surprise in both his voice and his dangerously orange eyes. Roxas let his hand fall back to his side, limp as he felt, before steeling himself and shaking the impending tremor from his voice.

"I wish to discuss an important matter with you."

"Important to our Cause, or important on your own behalf, my Key?"

The blonde would have made a snappish remark about how their Cause was determined greatly by his will to work for it, but the nickname made him feel slightly ill and he decided against it. "My own behalf, Sir." This time, the tremor had crept upon his voice, though he hoped that Xemnas (ever perceptive) missed it.

"Well then, do come in and relax." He was faking emotion again; Roxas hated it. If they could pretend they had it, why could they not just say it existed in the first place and let the confusion end? He put a damper on his cascade of thoughts for the time being and nodded curtly, stepping into the bleached room when his Superior moved.

Unlike his own room, Xemnas had seen to it that the white space was furnished for comfort. A plush, queen-sized bed, an overstuffed chair at a small table, and even a window (rare because as rumor had it, Xigbar had grown tired of his duties to cleaning them and blasted them all out, which also explained the large gaping holes around the castle) decorated the room in the same color, almost invisible to the untrained eye. Xemnas chose to sit in the chair, gesturing lightly to the bed. It was almost pleasant, homey even.

Even so, Roxas felt a tad awkward sitting on the bed of his Superior (for the obvious reason of the superiority and another one that he could not distinguish – he'd interrogate Axel later) and he stood in front of the man, posture demanding business in that submissive way that Roxas had. It showed that he knew his place, knew both its inferiority and its importance to their Cause and he would use the latter to his advantage if the situation called for it. He was confident, he told himself. Confident and curt - there was no need to stay in close proximity with the Superior for longer than necessary. That was another unspoken rule.

Xemnas raised a delicate, silver eyebrow, but said nothing, which Roxas was grateful for. He took a notepad from the table and set it into his lap with a pen. "Do proceed."

It had taken so long to work up the courage to confront the Superior about this, bravery flaring when the confusion did. Now, as he stood there in that awkward way and he had permission to say what he wished, the words seemed stuck in the back of his throat. He cleared it subtly, and tried again, with less than successful results. This, he thought, was what being nervous was like.

"I…" he started, then frowned. That wasn't how he wanted to start. "Who is Sora?" he asked instead, words precise and measured. Xemnas looked like he would be utterly shocked if he had the capacity to feel something so strong, but instead confusion was etched upon his face in translucent lines.

"Wherever did you hear of this name?"

"Who is he?" Roxas asked, only fueled by the man's reaction, but also avoiding the inevitable event of explaining that a silver-haired intruder had spouted off the name so casually, so naturally…

It sounded so familiar, but the pieces were missing and Roxas knew he was so close, just out of touch, but he couldn't grasp it.

"That name is none of your concern," Xemnas said evenly with an edge. "I advise that you wipe it from your memory."

"Why?" the blonde questioned boldly. "Does it have something to do with me?" He knew that he was walking on thin ice and that at his words spider web cracks were probably filtering through that ice. Orange eyes managed a beautiful imitation of a piercing glare and Xemnas stood up, towering and huge over his much tinier subordinate.

"Number Thirteen, I am inclined to believe that you are acting in a lovely imitation of being rude," he murmured, taking a single step and closing the distance between them. "As your superior, my command is for you to forget the name Sora, regardless of who told you. He is not something your mind needs to be concerned with."

There was something in the words that seemed like a hidden message. Xemnas was obviously keeping something from him. Roxas, however, was growing frustrated at a lack of knowledge about anything from anybody and narrowed his own eyes, trying to imitate the cool glare. "You're lying."

Delicate eyebrows skyrocketed and the Superior leaned forward, hands behind his back but his face mere inches from that of his youngest member's. "What would ever possess you to make such an accusation?"

Roxas instinctively moved back a little, trying to put some distance between himself and Xemnas. He said nothing, a high sense of danger poking at his sense. Xemnas, however, was not deterred.

"Do you not trust me, my Key?" He enunciated his words slowly, voice softening to a deadly whisper. Roxas remembered that he had decided that intimidation had not been an option, but right now he was beginning to regret ever coming in this general direction.

Without an answer, the superior leaned closer, Roxas pulling back as if he was on a string. It continued for a moment before suddenly, large, tanned hands were shoving his shoulders against the bed and holding him there, orange shimmering in front of his vision.

"I do believe that you need to be taught a lesson, Number Thirteen," he murmured. "Remember who I am." With those words, he leaned forward, so close that silver hair was tickling against Roxas's cheeks, except now he wasn't worrying about the hair because a hungry mouth moved against his in a statement of authority. Roxas froze, eyes widening and refusing to move his own lips in response. His arms, normally so strong and reflexive, did nothing against his sides uselessly.

The kiss lasted for only a few seconds before Xemnas pulled away, that unfamiliar half-emotion in his eyes stronger. He no longer concerned himself with trying to figure out what it was, because he noticed now that it looked dangerous and hungry. He sat up a little with the room allowed him and scooted back, ready to jump up and flee from the room.

"Stay." The command was curt, and Roxas scowled and almost uttered a very Axel-like comment, but he found that he was frozen in place, half lifting himself up so that his abdominal muscles were tensed uncomfortably. He tugged at his own being uselessly, only his eyes and his lungs (as he was still able to breathe) able to make any form of motion.

"You bastard."

Apparently, his mouth worked too (the blonde had not meant for that to be vocal); he fleetingly though Axel thought sounded much better and bolder with curses coating his lips, especially because he didn't think the redhead would ever spit them at his superior. Thinking of Axel made him calm a bit before he saw Xemnas's face. The silver-haired man looked surprised, making him feel a bit smug until a slow smile spread across darkly defined features.

"I'm glad that Number Eight taught you well," he said amusedly before leaning forward and claiming Roxas's lips again, this time more violently as he used teeth to snag the younger nobody's lower lip and tug his mouth open greedily. Roxas felt like something was being reaped from him and he tried to move with ever fiber of his being with less than successful results. Xemnas pushed him further into the mattress, hands gripping his upper arms with the thumbs running circles over the taught muscle of his biceps.

When he pulled away again, Roxas was glaring, a faint tint of pink staining pale cheeks from embarrassment and a tinge of nauseating shame. Exotically tanned hands plucked at the zipper of his coat while Xemnas stared at him again, eyes half lidded and tongue running idly over his lips, tasting the last of the boy beneath him. "You're beautiful like this," he told him, leaning down and nibbling on his collarbone. Roxas had little warning before he bit down hard and he yelped when Xemnas's teeth, astoundingly sharp, pierced his skin. The suction continued for a moment until, when the silver-haired man finally pulled away, there was a large, rapidly darkening bruise surrounding the puncture that was deep enough to scar as a permanent reminder.

Sometime during his vampire-like feast, Xemnas had unzipped his own coat and was making quick work of Roxas's, deftly yanking black leather from still-immobile arms. When Xemnas began going for the button to his somewhat loose pants, Roxas stiffened with everything that he could move.

"Stop!" he cried, managing to twitch whereas he'd rather be flailing viciously. He wasn't actually positive as to what was going on, but somehow being totally exposed in front of his Superior, especially when he had that look in his eye and those compliments spilling from his smirk-posed lips, fed the tiny spark of fear that he had kept suppressed by holding his breath. Now it was consuming him, almost entirely rendering him panic-stricken.

Number one merely laughed, a sound that sent tremors racing up and down Roxas's spine, unsuppressed because his body couldn't voluntarily do much on his own. Defiantly, like he hadn't even heard his subordinate's words at all, nimble fingers twisted open his pants, sliding them down pale thighs tenderly in a mockery of affection. The way the smooth material slid so easily over his skin made Roxas feel sick again, and so exposed that he could feel his cheeks burn in shame. Xemnas left the clothing tangled around his ankles for now, standing back to stare at his work.

The blonde's hands were pinned to his sides by the invisible bonds he held over his movement, his thighs quivering just slightly. His skin held a soft radiance, especially noticeable in his glowing cheeks. The brightened look of not-exactly-faked emotions in his eyes made the picture all the more beautiful, from the mess of black tangled around his ankles to the powder-blue boxer shorts clinging to narrow, pale hips protectively all the way up to tousled, golden locks. Xemnas soaked all of it in before pulling off his pants and undergarments in one motion and climbing back over the boy, a hand splayed over his chest.

When Roxas shuddered deliciously beneath him, a shaky breath the cause of it, he grinned and bent over to kiss the mark he left tenderly, trailing his lips in butterfly kisses up his neck, over his jaw line, and finally softly over the blonde's already swollen lips. Meanwhile his hand slid lower, inch-by-inch, tracing over contours of a body trapped between boyhood and manhood, obvious in the distinct softness of the skin that had the slight tension of muscle beneath. When his fingers arrived at the waste band of the last article covering the boy, he glanced at the child's face, grinning.

In between the panicked lines of his mind, part of Roxas had began to tell him to submit, but the voice telling him such was foreign and not his own. Hazily he kept telling himself to keep fighting, but it seemed that now he could not move from pure terror and not necessarily whatever Xemnas had done to him. He could do nothing to stop the large hand that made his muscle clench painfully as it ran over them. He wasn't precisely sure what was to happen, but he had a general idea, and the chances of escaping that were growing slimmer with every centimeter that the hand moved.

When it finally found its way under the waste band of his sole protector, Roxas expected a rough yank to make the garment slide to his trapped ankles. Instead, Xemnas's fingertips grazed over the sensitive skin of his hips, the other hand coming to join it. They made their ways to each of his hips and massaged, though it made him do no more than tremble more. As slowly as his superior's hand had made it this far, the boxers were slipped off, as if to emphasize how helpless and exposed he was. He gasped involuntarily when, on the journey down his legs, he was groped roughly, and he felt something twitch against his thigh, though he didn't dare to look.

When finally he rendered to the state he was in before introduction to the Organization – terrified, motionless, and nude - Xemnas spent little time spreading limp thighs apart and pulling bony knees up to pin against Roxas's chest. This time his hands moved much quicker, running over chest and hips and areas they shouldn't have ever been in the first place. He tried, mildly without much of a goal, to arouse the boy beneath him, but his light attempt was mostly futile and he gave up on it as he reached the boy's ass again. He paused momentarily before bringing his hand back and slapping the smooth flesh hard, tinting it pink and bringing a yelp from Roxas's lips.

"Are you going to be a good boy?" he murmured over the sound of tiny, suppressed whimpers.

In hopes that maybe if he did like the lapdog he was assumed to be, he would be released and no harm would come to him, Roxas nodded fearfully.

"No more talk of this Sora?" Another nod. "And especially, no more insubordination?" A nod so enthusiastic he could have laughed.

"Good; then I suppose that I shall be nice and prepare you." And with a sense of finality in his tone, he shoved a thick finger into the blonde's virgin entrance sadistically, keeping careful, analytical eyes on the child's face. Roxas didn't quite scream, but he didn't do much to stifle the pained noise he made, either. It was so beautifully arousing, though the boy didn't repeat it as he pumped it into him quickly. He did make another noise, louder, when another finger joined the first, moving too quickly before he could even have the barest chance of time to adjust to something so foreign and unwanted moving inside of him.

He debated adding a third one, because either if he stopped now and took him it would be painful from lack of both willingness and proper preparation, but the way the muscles of Roxas's body were clenching around his fingers, trying to force them out in the only way it knew how, made him become all-too-aware of the pre-ejaculation fluids leaking from his ignored phallus, so he pulled out roughly and straddled the blonde, grinning sadistically. Beneath him, the boy was panting slightly, fearfully, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. He had pale, delicate hands fisted tightly into the blankets beneath him, those frail wrists shuddering beautifully.

Casually he took a hand, unwound it from its tight grip in his sheets, and kissed it lovingly. "You're so beautiful when you're frightened," he murmured against the pale skin as he positioned himself. Roxas made a tiny whimper of a response, jolting at the feeling of the head of Xemnas's cock brushing against his primitively prepared and throbbing-already entrance. He turned his head to the aside, a blush staining its way across his cheeks slowly, and the silver-haired man almost wanted to sit back and figure out if he was acting in this manner because of humiliation or the want to deny what was happening. He memorized the expression, deciding to look back upon it the next time he had a spare moment before he turned his attention back to the task at hand and shoved himself into Roxas forcefully.

Almost instantly, those muscles clenched around him, quivering and pushing against him going in defiantly. It took three thrusts before his hips were pushing against Roxas's skins. He groaned, taking in the moment before pulling out and slamming back in. He barely registered the quick scream that was stifled by blunt teeth gnashing at a swollen and bruised lower lip, nor the unwilling sobs that blossomed forth. As he kept thrusting, his hips increasing their force, the muscles around him, though still astoundingly, unrealistically tight loosened slightly, allowing him to move quicker. Bright red, alive-looking blood served as a brutal lubrication.

Xemnas pulled Roxas's calves to rest over his shoulders, giving him more access and room to move. He leaned down and bit harshly at his chest, drawing blood more than once. His hands moved often, gripping narrow hips to the point of deep bruising, shaking forearms, leaving more finger-shaped, purple bruises, or those fragile wrists again; at this point, one of them was swollen, but he cared not and gripped it as tight as if he could still see the fragile bones beneath skin. He had not the mental energy to devote to listening to the noises Roxas was making, but from what he heard over the sound of skin slapping forcefully against skin and his own animalistic groaning only turned him on more, made him fuck the body into the mattress harder.

When he felt the beginnings of an orgasm well up in his loins, Xemnas forced his body to slow and then stop, buried deep within the ripped confines of the shuddering blonde beneath him, and before Roxas could get any ideas, flipped him over. "You're a good slut," he told him. "So get on your knees."

There was a twitch of a hand in response, but otherwise silence and lack of motion. Xemnas growled, slapping the boy's already-reddened ass. "I said get on your knees, whore." Roxas jumped and whimpered and made a feeble attempt to move with the stiff object still inside of him. He managed to pull himself to support himself on one shaking knee and an even shakier arm before he sobbed and collapsed. Both motions had made Xemnas twist inside of him to different angles, impaling him in different, painful ways and he could scarcely breathe, much less move.

The superior spanked him again, harder this time with his grip returning to the blonde's black and blue hips and pulling them up, taking him with them. "I said on your knees," he hissed. "You think this is bad, you slut? I have it in my full intention to make it thrice as worse if you refuse to listen." At the words he enunciated, he dug his nails into the sensitive skin over where Roxas's thighs met his hips.

There were a couple more heart-wrenching sobs that wracked the blonde's small body before he brought his knees back down to support himself and pulled himself up on his arms. His broken wrist protested, the pain shooting up his arm enough to almost make it buckle, but he thought hazily through his pain-infiltrated senses that he didn't want this to be worse than it already was, so he stayed upright, swaying weakly and shivering violently. The sobs that he could no longer suppress shook his chest and his shoulders to the point where it was hard to breathe, and his stomach muscles were clenched so hard that they burned, but he still managed it.

He had almost forgotten something was inside of him when Xemnas started moving again, and try as hard as he might, between screaming and sobbing, he could not hold himself in the commanded position any longer. He fell, his face pushed into the mattress and nearly smothering him. He could feel his screams as they vibrated beneath him, trapped forever in the secrecy of that mattress, that room. His tormentor didn't seem to care, merely pushing him down harder and rocking the bed with the force of his thrusts. Against already-too-sensitive skin, it now felt like someone had shoved a serrated knife into him and twisted constantly, hollowing him out and leaving him shivering, vulnerable, and broken in its wake.

He felt hollower than he ever had in his entire existence, and the thought could've brought more tears to his eyes if he had actually stopped crying in the first place.

Again, Xemnas found himself close to climax. At that point, the thought of stopping and rearranging his marriage to the teen below him was like treason to his mind, and he let it build up, most obvious in how his thrusts were suddenly more erratic. He had not felt the bed frame shake under his punishment before, but now it was obvious, the rhythm falling into synchrony in his mind as suddenly, he felt himself go over the edge. He threw a good portion of his weight over Roxas's body, biting harder than he had dared to previously at the back of the child's neck and once more drawing blood as he came hard, filling the younger nobody. He stayed like that for a while, releasing the grip his razor-sharp teeth held over the taught skin beneath Roxas's hair line and licked his lips, straightening and pulling out.

He flipped Roxas over again, a lethargic look of satisfied sadism gleaming in his face as a hollow afterglow. When he leaned down again, he could've chuckled at the obvious flinch of the blonde's shoulders and chest. Instead of biting again and claiming the small teen as his own in yet another place, he leaned close to a delicate eat, his voice sliding like venom into it.

"You, my Key, he enunciated the word again, lips brushing against sensitive cartilage. "Are a tool – my tool. Remember that." And with that, he stood up, redressed himself, and was gone, leaving his littlest member lying broken, limp, and bleeding all over the satin sheets.

The next day, he was gone.

-

So this was so supposed to be posted months ago. Whatever.