And, first chaptered fic, here we go! I've got a few in the workings, but this one seems to be coming out the most smoothly right now, so I'll start putting it up.
Warning: Rated M for what's to come (and a little of what's already here)…and if you read my other stuff, you should know that I don't use the M rating for anything shy of Very M Stuff. OK? OK.
Special thanks to all those who have been so kind to review my one-shots so far. Love y'all!
And, without further ado!
"Hey Mister, you alone?"
Axel weakly lifted his head from his arms and tried to focus on the yellow blob addressing him.
"Hey, wanna have some fun?"
Fumbling to raise himself from the bar and focus on the source of the voice, Axel managed to discover a few wavering spots of blue in the yellow blob. He blinked hard, then tried it again. After a few more blinks, his eyes finally uncrossed themselves. He found himself staring into a white fur collar. Apparently his neck had gotten lazy while he was concentrating on his eyes.
With a push of sudden effort, Axel managed to raise his head and focus briefly. He was met with a confused jumble of white fur, yellow blob, and blue spots – all floating in what resembled a group of hovering faces. He realized that Yellow Blob was asking him something, and he attempted to form a coherent answer.
Axel thought the voice was smirking another question at him, but he wasn't sure what it asked, because he suddenly noticed that something felt nice…somewhere. As clarity (if it could be called that) began to drift toward him, he was able to determine that the Something was a hand, and it was running slowly up his inner thigh.
"What…?" Axel managed to mutter, confused, as he slowly put the situation together and watched Yellow Blob condense into one (still very fuzzy) face.
"I said, you wanna have a little fun?" As if to cut off Axel's attempt to ask what the giggling Yellow Blob meant, the hand suddenly reached its destination and began brushing seductively against something much much more interesting than Axel's inner thigh. The sensation provided Axel with enough focus to stutter a positive reply.
"Uh…oh…OK." Axel wasn't sure, but he guessed that this would keep the nice feeling from going away. He completely missed a triumphant smirk in the middle of Yellow Blob.
"Let's go someplace quieter then, kay?" The face that was Yellow Blob curled moist, pink lips in a smile and slid suggestively closer. Axel was in the process of producing another affirmative answer when an arm slipped around him and pulled him away from the barstool. Somehow, Axel managed to not hit the floor immediately, although that probably had more to do with the surprising strength of the shorter person supporting him.
As he was half-led, half-dragged toward a door at the far end of the bar, he heard the voice of Yellow Blob calling to someone else. Focused on keeping his feet beneath him, he didn't catch what the voice said.
Roxas was in a cheerful mood – his night was off to a good start. Nothing easier than a customer who was already too plastered to stay awake for his "service," and who would certainly not remember, when he woke up the next day, how his wallet had ended up empty. Grabbing a key from his boss, Roxas dragged his poor, unsuspecting client through the door and into the elevator that led upstairs to the rooms.
After a bit of a struggle getting the half-conscious taller man into the room and onto the waiting bed, Roxas set to work. First of all, act like he was actually going to do his job. If the client managed to remember anything, he'd need something that would help him make sense of his empty wallet tomorrow. Roxas dropped his fur-lined jacket on a chair and immediately stripped off his revealing belly shirt as well. Naked from the waist up, he slid onto the bed and crawled up to his dazed victim, ending in Start Position Three – straddling Victim's knees, chest brushing crotch, face directly over Victim's stomach.
Roxas checked his client's face. Half-closed green eyes and a slightly open mouth – a look of dazed curiosity. Hm, he's less cross-eyed. Time for some lines.
"How ya like it, Hot Stuff?" Roxas busied his hands with the client's jacket and dress shirt while he let his sultry voice drip the cheesy lines to the stunned drunk. "Tell me what I can do for you." Roxas pushed himself forward, rubbing soft skin against the now-exposed chest and reaching the man's neck with his tongue in a long lick up the side of his throat and eliciting a slightly confused but pleasured whine. He then re-traced the same path with hot, open-mouthed kisses, sucking hard twice, drawing groans from the man beneath him, before reaching his jaw line, which he nibbled along toward the ear.
"You like that?" He whispered against the warm skin of the man's neck, just below his ear as he slowly ran his hands up and down the toned chest of the stranger.
Hazy eyes stared at him as Roxas raised his upper body, arching his back to display his beautifully soft chest, while simultaneously rubbing his hips down hard against his captive's and purring. The man shivered, and green eyes dropped to the thin chest in front of them and remained glued there for at least 20 seconds of uncomprehending silence, while Roxas' fingers lightly began tracing over the muscles of the man's chest. Finally, Axel managed to form a stuttering sentence.
"What…where your boobs at?"
Blue eyes boggled as Roxas fiercely pinched his own arm to keep from exploding with laughter in the stranger's face.
Fortunately for the amused boy, Axel only lasted five seconds longer before his neck gave up the battle and his head dropped backwards as he lost consciousness. Roxas giggled as he rolled off the bed, then grabbed a pillow to stifle his laughter. He thought he'd seen everything, but tonight…
"Idiot didn't even know what kind of place this is. Missing: straight guy, lost in a gay whorehouse!" Roxas chuckled as he set to work on the rest of his job.
First, pants. The man was out cold, and Roxas had his pants off in seconds. He was a pro after all. He fished the wallet out of the back pocket and opened it. Grinning, he pocketed the contents – a little over 200 – and set to work undressing the client down to his boxers. He was feeling generous after his laugh, so he went with Tactic: One-Night Stand.
The man was left in his underwear, blanket thrown over him and clothes scattered about the room (tie over by the door). Roxas whipped out a lipstick, applied it to his own lips quickly, and left lipstick prints on mouth, face, neck, and chest. He made sure one shoe would be found on the other side of the room. (They were the shoes that had let Roxas know his prey wasn't some broke deadbeat – a rumpled suit came on many kinds of men, but clean shoes came on men who had jobs and probably money.) Finally, he left a note in curly, feminine handwriting on a cocktail napkin. (Hey, for Straight Guy, why not?)
Last night was truly wonderful for me. Sadly, it would never work out for us. I hope you understand. Thank you for being there anyway.
Roxas pulled his shirt and jacket back on, cleaned off the excess lipstick, and checked his hair in the mirror. As he left the room to return to work, he blew the unconscious idiot a kiss.
"Thanks for the tip, 'Darling'. Come see me again anytime."
Roxas had had a feeling tonight would be a good one. When he'd caught sight of the disheveled red-haired man at the bar (and noted the clean shoes – very important indicator on money) he'd been delighted at a chance to grab some cash without working. Not that Roxas would have hesitated even if he had to actually earn his pay…but this was just good business. Every customer he serviced meant a slightly more worn-out body. And a worn-out body didn't earn as much. If he could make some money in 20 minutes of concealed robbery without making use of his ass, instead of in an hour or more of doing who-knows-what, well, he had long ago learned not to complain. He had a whole routine of tactics to make sure his victims would never suspect they had been robbed by a slut. Tactic: One-Night Stand left robbery open as an option, but the blame was on the unknown partner – in this case, a woman. Who could just as easily have cleaned the victim out buying drinks at the bar instead of by literally emptying his wallet. It was up to the customer to figure it out. They had never remembered enough in the morning to make them come looking for a little blond slut.
"Hey Mama, I'm back." Roxas cheerfully addressed the whorehouse boss, who had provided the room key earlier.
"Get much?" His boss replied, turning to the young employee and distractedly running curved red fingernails through long, pink hair.
Smirking, Roxas handed the bills over.
"Good work, as usual." Marluxia snickered. "Now get outta here kiddo, and get the next one."
Grinning and winking, Roxas headed off to work his way around the bar again, looking for his next client.
Axel was having a very bad day.
Screw that, it was a very bad week. At least. Maybe it was the whole damn month. He had always hated March.
First his lousy stinking job transfers him from reporting for the local section of the paper to the broader district, covering a great deal more distance and royally fucking his already hectic working hours with added travel time. Then he catches Larxene with some brunette chick…and discovers why his girlfriend has been so cold lately. Finally, when all he wanted was to drown his sorrows with a buddy, Demyx's mom is rushed to the hospital (for some medical condition Axel completely failed to understand when Demyx tried to explain it in a rush over the phone) and Axel is left to drink himself into a stupor all alone. If that wasn't enough, he woke up in a very...pink hotel room to a note that meant jack shit to his foggy brain. Oh, and did he forget to count the practically lethal hangover and the fact that all his fucking money was gone?
Very bad day.
Not the best day to come home to a rather cheap, dumpy apartment and find nothing but light beer in the fridge. Apparently Larxene had stopped by for her things, and had eaten the rest of the pizza Axel had saved. Brilliant. "I'll miss you too, honey," he growled, heading for the shower.
He might have taken a little comfort from the knowledge that the little blond reason for his suddenly lightened wallet was not having the best morning either. He had not had exactly bad luck after Axel – he made a decent profit off of each customer and managed to fit in quite a few, even for a Friday night – but his luck had not extended far enough to make the night easy…or even tolerably pleasant. Roxas had been forced to put up with one filthy pervert after another for the rest of the night, almost right up until morning. His customers had been old, smelly, or just downright creepy – the last one of the night was clearly a sadist bent on hearing Roxas scream.
Roxas didn't work S&M, so his clients were not allowed to indulge such fantasies (there were two others in the house that handled that line of work), yet this one still seemed intent on finding ways to hurt Roxas without crossing the line.
By the time Roxas had finally gotten rid of his last client, donned a less flashy jacket to hide his revealing outfit, collected his earnings from Marluxia, and begun the chilly morning walk home, he was moody, exhausted, and in quite a bit of pain.
Unlocking his apartment door and entering, Roxas threw his coat on a hook and kicked his shoes at the wall. The apartment was small and nearly bare. The living room contained a small, dingy sofa and a tiny old TV which sat on the floor. A coffee table with one short leg also served as the only eating surface, since there was no other furniture in the living room or in the kitchenette in the corner. Roxas practically made a beeline for the bathroom. The only other room was the bedroom, which contained a bed and some shelves stacked with whatever miscellaneous junk Roxas owned.
The bathroom was tiny, barely managing to contain the toilet, sink, and square shower stall. What he wouldn't give for a bathtub on a morning like this, Roxas thought bitterly. Instead, he had to content himself with the hottest shower he could tolerate as he washed himself clean of all the nights' customers. His legs felt almost too weak to support him long enough for the shower. He was longing for bed…but there were routines that could not be compromised, not even today. Roxas had a few injuries to treat this morning. He also had to run through a rather embarrassingly feminine beauty ritual – skin and hair this soft and lovely (and expensive) didn't just happen, after all.
Running dangerously low on energy, Roxas shuffled to the kitchenette in a pair of sweatpants to grab breakfast from the fridge, while completing his final task – call Mom. Every Saturday morning. Or else.
Roxas placed the plate he had prepared the night before in the microwave as he waited for his mom to pick up. Roxas usually fixed a decent meal for himself before leaving for work in the evening, so that he would have something healthy to eat when he got home, no matter how tired he was. Good nutrition was a part of the job too – a figure like his could be a bitch to maintain without even a trace of love handles. And standards in Marluxia's house were high. Roxas didn't want to end up looking for work on the streets.
A scratching voice came over the line. "What? Who's this?"
"It's me, Mom." Roxas sighed.
He dully began listening to her endless string of nagging questions, complaints, and abuse. He ate in silence, allowing her to rant for the duration of his meal, before finally interrupting.
"Mom, I'm sending you more money on Monday, OK? I gotta go now, got lots to do today." After a few more complaints and several admonitions to not waste his weekend, she finally hung up. These calls were intended as proof that Roxas was up early, not wasting his weekend, and was being productive in addition to his regular work week – all of which were lies designed to keep his mother from knowing his real job. Roxas dumped his plate in the sink and turned immediately towards his bedroom. Collapsing on the mattress, he pulled the blankets up to his chin and fell asleep almost immediately.