Inspi'Song: Beauty in the Breakdown by The Scene Aesthetic

That's right. There's another one.

With Eight Weeks just about finished, my muse said unto me, "MAKE ANOTHER ONE, GOD DAMMIT!"

I'm a slave to my muse. :3

Disclaimer: The fifty different ways are from various sites on the net.

Trust Not in Beauty

Way #47: "I had the weirdest dream last night: I was waking up just as dawn was breaking,

but instead of the sun rising on the horizon, it was your glowing face.

You were smiling and glowing and it felt too good.

Isn't that just strange? I have NO idea what that means. Pass the ketchup."

Maybe it was the egoistic upturn of mouth corners. Maybe it was the rakish combination of acidic emerald eyes and flaming red hair. Maybe it was the temperature of his skin (scalding hot), or the way his jeans always slung low on his hips (sexy as those hips were), or the dexterity of his fingers (like individual dancers on his body), or the flexibility of his tongue (pierced twice, and, shit, did that feel good where it mattered).

Or maybe it was just Roxas, with his over-sensitive senses, all attacked at the same time by this young god; with his little cries that only fed the fire to this man's intentions—intentions that included Roxas screaming his name as he was thrust up against any flat, stable surface. He was an awful, cruel man, ready to lie whenever he needed the blond in his bed, whispering false promises of devotion and—what stung the most—love as he brought Roxas to his knees.

It didn't matter that Roxas hated the redheaded demon with every cell in his being, nor that he'd found everything he'd believed about his tempter to be a wounding deception. It didn't matter, because all the acid-eyed devil had to do was curl two fingers inward, beckoning, a breathed, "Come to me," and all of the boy's defenses fell in a humiliating display of submission.

And when come to me morphed into cum for me, Roxas was helpless but to let his head fall back, mouth wide in a silent cry, eyes open as tears escaped them, and comply.

Yes, maybe Roxas knew better than to trust his self to this monster, but that didn't stop the monster from claiming his body again and again. He would try to run, try to break from this man's hold, but he always ended stumbling back to his keeper.

Where're you going, beautiful?" Roxas slipped into his boxers, pressure building behind his eyes as he tried to wipe himself clean, knowing well that he'd never be clean. He'd let himself be defiled. His body was practically no longer his by now.

"I'm getting out of here," Roxas said firmly, "I can't stand a second longer near you." He heard the bed shift, and then there was that mouth, and that damned tongue, creeping along his neck. Then, in his ear:

"Wasn't it just a minute ago that you said you couldn't stand a second longer without me inside you?" A chill ran up Roxas's spine, and his shiver shook a tear loose. His pants had been half-way up his legs, but now they were pushed back down with his underwear.

"Come on, gorgeous," came that voice again, low and sensuous, "I want to see that face you make—the one where you scream my name." There was a hand wrapped around his growing arousal, and Roxas bit his lip to keep from giving his torturer what he wanted.

"Let's hear it, pretty."

"Fuck, Ax—"

"That's it. It's been a while since I've heard my name from your mouth."

"St-stop!"

"That isn't it, either."

At some point, Roxas had heard some old woman telling him, 'Trust not in beauty.' God damn, he should have listened, because there was one hell of a beauty pounding him into the floor, "Just like the cock-sucking bitch you are," and with those words, fucked him straight over the edge.

"Say it." Stars burst, and he couldn't do a thing to stop himself.

"Axel!" he was crying, "Axel!"

"There we are, like a good little whore." Then he continued using the blond mercilessly.

Yeah, it most likely would have been a good idea to have listened.

Video blog, Twitter, you know the drill. See account for details.

Standard disclaimers apply.