This is all just a bunch of sappy bullshit and mediocrity.

Title On and On
Summary akuroku ; Axel could not even begin to describe the vast number of things he loved about Roxas...
Rating PG-13
Warning(s) Mentions of sex; risks of eye-bleeding and tooth-rotting.
Disclaimer Don't own... don't really want to.
Author's Notes Umm... I don't really have an excuse for this, except I wanted to write a huge run on sentence, and at 696 words, I think this classifies as a decent-sized one.

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Axel could not even begin to describe the vast number of things he loved about Roxas -- the way his blond hair would perpetually stick up in one direction and stay stoic and unmoving, his questionable taste in clothes, the Celtic chain he always wore and would finger when anxious, the finger bands that were smooth and comforting against Axel's hands when he held the blond's, the little sounds Roxas would make whenever Axel would press kisses and licks and nips and sucks to that onecertainspot on his neck, and Axel loved kissing Roxas -- he would kiss him hard and kiss him pretty and kiss him like it was Roxas's first, last, only and ever and Roxas would kiss him back just as hard, just as pretty, just like Axel's first, last, only, ever, end; Axel loved cupping the small dip in Roxas's lower back, trailing his hands up, pulling him close, holding him tight, and he was pretty sure that he could be considered as smothering Roxas but Roxas never protested -- he would only let Axel pull him closer and tighter and cling to him for all he was worth, because he was worth it all; Axel loved taking Roxas's hand and tracing ever line on his palm, because the infinite tangle of crevices gave him an unlimited amount of time to hold his hand pointlessly -- not like he wouldn't hold it pointlessly for unlimited amounts of time anyway -- and plus he could always run the pads of his fingers over Roxas's nails, because Roxas never seemed to cut his nails until they were long and chipping and tearing, and that might have been a bit gross but Axel found it fun to try and smooth down and rough out the jagged edges that would be left time after time after time -- inevitable, and just as inevitable was the pull of Roxas's eyes; now, Axel wasn't exactly a romantic -- pyromantic -- but Roxas's eyes were impossible to find your way out of, because they were just sofuckingintense, and whenever Axel would look into them he would be certain that ohmygod this is the man I am going to spend my life with, and Axel had to make sure he saw Roxas's eyes when they were melding; had to make sure that he was lost and staying lost as he kept getting sofuckingclose and then Roxas would lower his lids, glaze his eyes, let out a breathy word and that would be the end and the end of the beginning was only the beginning -- Roxas was always chatty after sex, never tired, and Axel was sofuckinggrateful for that, because Roxas's voice was aural sex in its own way; thick, lush, secretive in its own aspects, underlying thoughts, underlaced words hidden in it and Roxas's laugh could come close to comparable; dark, rich, ribbons of sound that wound their way through Axel's chest and up his spine and settled somewhere between euphoria and intoxication -- sickly warm, sickly cooling to his feverish mind, set through its motions by RoxasRoxasRoxas; Axel loved how Roxas would say his name, whether it was pleading or stern or tickled or morose, and there were times that Axel would try to return Roxas's name with just the right pitch, just the right note, just the right everything to send Roxas somewhere, anywhere, but it probably never worked, Roxas would call him silly because he always knew when Axel tried to do it; you're silly, Axel would counter, you're sillier, says Roxas, you're silliest, you silly silly, and all right, maybe he was silly, Axel would disgress, but there were plenty of times he was serious, plentyplenty, and Roxas was the center of many of these plentyplentyplenty serious times, so he should know; like when Roxas would curl up against Axel's chest and Axel would wipe away his tears, or when Axel would drag him out just as the sun began to sink to walk and talk and be there and maybe, just maybe, Roxas was twilight in its rawest, and Axel loved him for it.