Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/444914.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kingdom_Hearts
  Relationship:
      Axel/Roxas
  Character:
      Axel_(Kingdom_Hearts), Roxas
  Additional Tags:
      Sunburn, Comfort_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-27 Words: 1798
****** Scorched ******
by absolutelyCancerous_(cal1brations)
Summary
     “I’m going to die,” Roxas sighs, pathetically. He’s sitting on the
     middle of his bed, because his front and his back are too burned for
     him to lay comfortably on. You, as pale as you are, feel very, very
     bad for the kid.
“I’m never going there again.”
“Too bad it’s your job.”
“No, no. I am never setting foot there again. Ever.”
“C’mon, Rox; it’s really not even that bad.”
You are lying, of course. You know it’s actually very horrible and you’re
surprised Roxas isn’t crying or something because holy shit, he’s burned. Like,
he’s nearly magenta. Well, at least on the places his cloak didn’t cover.
Which was a very good portion of him, seeing as he took the damn thing off
during his mission, apparently.
“It was really hot; so sue me! Not even the people in… sandy-deserted-
wasteland-land,” he means Agrabah, “wear much! You expect me to keep on a
heavy-duty leather coat in one hundred-ten degree weather? No way.”
Roxas is literally burning red from the roots of his hairline to his waist;
thankfully the kid was wise enough to half-undo his coat to tie at his waist.
The rest of him simply sweltered instead of singed.
“I’m going to die,” Roxas sighs, pathetically. He’s sitting on the middle of
his bed, because his front and his back are too burned for him to lay
comfortably on. You, as pale as you are, feel very, very bad for the kid.
“You are not going to die,” you assure, waggling what is known as “a pale
person’s gel-like hero only spoken of as the bliss of aloe vera” in his face
with a sympathetic smile.
You actually didn’t know Roxas could look so excited.
But, you know that making facial expressions hurts like a mother when your face
is nearly the same shade of red as your hair. You bite back a laugh as you hand
him the bottle so you can peel off your gloves and, hell, while you’re at it,
your cloak, too.
“You are my saviour. My knight in shining leather. My mercy angel.”
You laugh outright, snatch the bottle up and carefully start squirting the
green gel into your palm. “Who taught you all that? Here, look at me.”
Roxas tries to keep his face as still as possible as your gel-covered fingers
rub cool relief on his nose and cheekbones; he ends up sighing out a high-
pitched noise that makes you grin.
“I heard Xigbar saying it the other night when he was playing cards with the
others.”
Of course. You roll your eyes, spread more aloe into your hands and rub it
carefully on Roxas’s face. It makes you feel good (and, alright, maybe it’s
kind of arousing, too) each time the little blonde sighs in relief, nearly
mewls about how amazing it feels.
When your gel-covered fingerstips brush over Roxas’s burned lips, the kid looks
at your with wide cerulean orbs before he gets this lascivious kind of
look—wow, it’s actually pretty hot, if you do say so yourself— and parts his
lips, almost in a lazy kiss to your hand, the sneaky little thing. You smirk,
don’t comment because, hell, it’s not like you’re going to discouragehim from
kissing at you. It’s something you very much enjoy, in fact.
“Which hurts more, your back or your stomach?” You ask, withdrawing your hands
(remorsefully) to get another glob of aloe to rub on him.
“Back, definitely.”
Good, you think, great. You don’t really know how slathering your hands down
his chest is going to go; you hope he doesn’t throw a fit or something.
Forgetting worrying over future events, you sink down to sit behind Roxas.
You’d like to note how nicely his backside fits against the apex of your legs,
although you are most utterly not thinking dirty thoughts, no, you are not some
kind of pervert who’s getting a kick out of Roxas’s discomfort.
You just think it’s worthy to note. That’s all.
Back to the task at hand—you carefully set your slicked hands on Roxas’s
scorched shoulders and begin rubbing him down. He sighs blissfully, squirms
under your hands (and, to your silent delight, your crotch) and shivers when
you trail your cool, sticky fingertips down the reddened bumps of his spine.
“Hooow can I,” sigh, shift on the bed, “ever thank you?”
You grin, hands freshly coated with more soothing gel and rub at the base of
his neck in wide, slow circles.
“All that sighing you’re doing is thanking me just fine,” you murmur into his
hair cautiously. These are dangerous waters, after all, and with Roxas’s
current state, you’d rather not have him mangled anymore than needed.
He shivers at your words, though, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he
tries to look over his shoulder at you.
“Nothing else? I mean,” Roxas pauses, wiggles himself so he’s somewhat facing
you with a sneaky smile, “it’s okay if I offer, right?”
You laugh, you really can’t help it, and plant a kiss on Roxas’s still-damp
cheek. “Maybe that can be arranged. Turn around so I can do your front.”
He does and you do and really, you didn’t mean for this to be so sexual but
he’s got his tongue in your mouth and you’re warming gel in your hands before
you can even question your morals and, whoa, when did Roxas get his pants off?
You can’t remember, but you do know that his dirty-blonde happy trail makes you
snicker—he only keeps it because he’s as hairless as a girl on his face and
chest and thinks it’ll make up for that fact.
Roxas is working on your fly as you gather him into your lap. He whips your
slacks down and you do the rest, shucking them off and kicking them to the
floor before you grin at the cutie in your lap, who smiles right back.
“Sorry,” you apologize prior to you pressing a finger up inside him and he
hisses about it being too cold. You smirk, capture his lips in a silencing kiss
as Roxas re-settles himself in your lap, slowly gyrating against your fingers.
By the time you’ve got the second digit in, he’s mewling those same noises as
before against your lips, pressing his slightly-damp forehead to yours as he
whispers out shy encouragements. You decide you really can’t hold out for
three—besides, that’s pushing it—and withdraw your hand in favor of grabbing
your new favorite item to slick up your cock with. Which also makes Roxas
squirm in excitement.
“Hurry,” he whines outright, it makes you smirk, “my face is drying.”
“Alright, alright, relax,” you assure, making sure to lick your lips generously
before planting them against Roxas’s. He’s distracted, you can tell by the way
his lips move dumbly against yours, as he struggles to angle himself up enough
to guide you inside. Rolling your eyes at the fact Roxas is bull-headed and
literally is too stubborn to simply grab your dick and make this whole deal
easier, you do it for him, reaching a hand between the two of you to press just
the tip inside of him.
Roxas’s reaction is instant.
“Oh, wow,” he splutters intelligently, hooking his arms around your neck and
pressing his forehead to yours so he can look down between the both of you;
like he might actually see something besides himself sitting in your lap.
Slowly, so fucking slowly, he inches down on you until he’s got your entire
length surrounded in his delightful warmth.
“You okay?” You ask, struggling very hard not to just moan about how amazingly
tight he is. Roxas doesn’t answer—that’s him being a little brat about “I’m a
big boy and I don’t need help”—so you try to sit as still as you possibly can,
and rub small circles at his hips to soothe him.
“I lied,” Roxas mumbles, sitting up a little bit. He’s about to tell you what
he apparently lied about, but then his eyes are getting wider than wide and
he’s gaping in a silent moan and you can’t help but grin like a smug moron at
how blissful he looks; close to sweet death (1) if you had to place a name on
it.
“You like that?” You purr, pressing your lips right up against Roxas’s ear. You
feel him tremble, from the bottom of his spine to the tips of his hair, before
he nods and literally whines your name.
“Axel,” he pants against your flesh, drawing up millions of goosebumps, “move,
please.”
For half a second, you actually consider telling Roxas that banging isn’t a
one-way street, that he’s got to put some effort into it, too, but then he’s
rolling his hips in this funky I’m-not-sure-what-I’m-doing-but-this-works-for-
me sort of way that makes you spit out a joyous groan. You cup his ass as much
as possible, in this position, and help Roxas find the rhythm you begin to set;
slow, deep, and cautious.
It’s pretty lame you can’t wrap your arms around him, lest you irritate his
sunburns and make him uncomfortable and downright miserable. So, you keep your
hands low, and settle for stroking him with gentle, nearly-teasing fingers.
Roxas pants, gnawing on his lip and smooshing his burning hot cheek up to yours
with a whisper of a moan as he grinds down oh-so-deliciously against you.
You actually think it’s precious more than anything when he comes, singing a
mantra of your name as he arches his back impossibly, clamping down around you
with his essense splattering against your chest and you just can’t—
You end up howling your orgasm a good few (milli)seconds after his.
The two of you sit like that for a good while after, trying to catch your
breath. It’s Roxas who sits up first, though, solely because, “where did you
put the lotion? Can you put more on, please? My face hurts.”
Since he asked so cutely, anyway. You help him up off your dick, which earns a
gasp out of both of you, and pull back a ways so you can see his face better
and snatch up the forgotten aloe, applying a fresh coat of relief to his
redness. Roxas yawns then, slowly finding a way to lie down without it hurting
too horribly, and pats the empty space next to him welcoming you.
“You have to put more on if it hurts too bad tonight,” he warns. You snort,
make sure to leave Roxas enough room to be comfortable with his sweltering
skin, and kiss his hand gently.
“Promise.”
“Thanks.”
You kiss his hand again, smiling. “It’s just what friends do. So go to sleep.”
.-._.-._.-.
Roxas wakes you up twice during the night; you’re happy to rub him down (in
more ways than one).
.-._.-._.-.
(1)- “sweet death” is when someone literally dies during sex, usually because
of an underlying health condition, i.e: a heart attack or stroke, etc.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!