Revolver

Disclaimer: Insert pity party here.

Warnings: Dark, twisted, and full of disturbing content to include: violence, blood, guns, and knives. You've been warned, kids.

Author's Notes: Dexter and Niijuin's picture on Deviant Art inspired me. Along with the lyrics from Hot Revolver by Lil' Wayne. Counseling may be in order after this one, guys.

Boy you've got a problem -
And you ain't foolin' no one but yourself…

Bang, baby.

The long barrel of an M500 Revolver is rammed roughly into his mouth - stainless steel scraping against teeth and gums as he chokes back a gagged cry. Fingers grip tightly at the blood-red locks of his hair, a hot tongue sliding up the length of his neck and cheek. He shivers and chokes on the metallic taste in his mouth.

Tied and bound - Axel is helpless.

Roxas loves his little games. He loves watching the dry tears fall from Axel's beautiful burning eyes - staining that flawless skin he'd come to memorize over time. He whispers in the redhead's ear gently, "Are you scared yet, Axel?" His voice drips with mockery and faux-sincerity and he rams the gun in further - index finger resting heavily on the trigger.

He hasn't disengaged the safety…

…Because right now, Roxas is enjoying his little mind fuck session too much to whip out the physical portion just yet. He tugs Axel backwards by that blazing red hair, breathing in his ear, "Mm, you want to know a fantasy of mine, baby?" Roxas withdraws the gun from Axel's mouth and the redhead chokes with a cough - a thin trail of saliva trailing down his jaw.

He sits there silently - hands bound tight behind him - pathetically on his knees before a short sadistic blond that towers above his shaking form with gleaming eyes and a wicked smile.

The cold metal of the barrel collides with Axel's cheek and jaw. It sends his head jerking and his bottom lip splitting. Liquid ruby trickles down his chin and his mouth tastes of rusty metal - or perhaps copper, like old pennies.

"I asked you a question." The blond explains his actions with a curt smile, ocean eyes alive with fire as he watches the redhead wipe his bloodied jaw on his shoulder - crimson staining the pure white shirt he'd worn to the office today.

"Y-Yes." Axel's voice betrays him - it's shaking and desperate - pathetic. He's never been this weak…or this terrified. Roxas cups the redhead's chin gently with a hand - wiping tenderly at the trickling blood with a warm thumb. He trails the revolver down the expanse of Axel's clothed chest, stopping at the juncture of his thighs.

"I have this little fantasy where I fuck you…" Roxas is grinning - voice honey-laced and dripping with venom - as he shoves Axel forward roughly by the shoulders, tear-stained face colliding with the cold cement. Axel winces in pain when the rough surface cuts into the tender flesh cheek and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. The blond is behind him, gun barrel now trailing down his back and up between his thighs. "…with the barrel of this gun."

Axel shakes his head wildly, tears and grit stinging at his eyes, "Rox…n-no…"

"It's loaded you know..." Roxas grins as he disengages the safety, spinning the chamber once for effect. "I wonder what your insides would look like spilling from your mouth." He watches the way Axel writhes in fear on the cement before him -

- and he swears the redhead has never looked more beautiful.

Roxas leans around his lover of the last six months, lips twisting into a smile against the heat of Axel's ear. "Bang!" He mouths through a grin, fingers tripping over the trigger as he points the revolver at the ceiling.

Axel flinches, throat going dry as the room resonates with the sound of the gunshot.

"Don't be such a pussy, Ax." Roxas laughs, tone velvety and smooth. His hands wrap under Axel's folded frame to unfasten the metal clasp of his leather belt.

"Roxas…please…"

"Please what, Axel?" Roxas somehow manages to remain beautiful - even in all his terrifying glory. His eyes are deep like the ocean - vast with a vortex of raging emotion. His hair is soft - like liquid silk - honey blond in color and done in a wild mess of spikes that perfectly accent his flawless face. "Don't beg, baby. It's beneath you."

And that smile…

"Why---?"

Axel's voice is borderline hysterical.

"---why am I doing this?" Roxas shrugs, watching as the moonlight that pours between the split black curtains reflects against the stainless steel of his revolver. "I suppose I get my kicks off of it, you're not the first so don't take it too personally. Get up." Roxas yanks the redhead up by the arm, leading him to the adjacent room.

Axel eyes grow impossibly wide, breathing suddenly a foreign concept - his stomach is up in his throat and his guts threaten to spill out from between trembling lips as he glances around a room shrouded entirely in plastic.

Roxas has seen this look many times - the look of sudden realization, mixed with terror, hopelessness, and anxiety.

It's his personal favorite…just like Axel had been.

He shines the barrel of his gun with a cloth, breathing on it once before he takes to rubbing at it again. A wicked smile accents his smooth features and he cocks his head to the side. "What? Don't look so betrayed and frightened, sweetheart." His voice mimics a soothing tone as he walks the distance between them - plastic twisting and sliding beneath his feet.

The sound reminds Axel of a corners bag and the contents of his stomach rise into the hollow of his throat - he chokes them back down with a strangled cough. "But we…you…"

"You're so eloquent tonight." Roxas laughs a beautiful sound and Axel can't shake the feeling that it's one of the last he will ever hear. "Try to understand, we did have our fun. But, you just found out way too much. And now look what it's come to..."

"I never would have said anything." Axel's eyes are pitiful and pained; so broken - so beautiful.

"You know the funny thing is…I believe you." Roxas shakes his head almost wistfully, glancing around the room to ensure he's covered it properly, even though the process is practically routine to him by now.

Beneath the plastic, the room is laid out neatly - organized to an obsessive degree and accented decoratively with a glass coffee table, leather couch, loveseat, plasma television, radio - even a vase of flowers and a few small picture frames adorn a small finished oak table beside the sofa.

It's such a nice room, Roxas' favorite…that's why he chose it for tonight.

A sigh escapes the blond's lips and his hands grip at the flesh and fabric of Axel's waist, tugging down sleek black pants. He had loved the way those pants had looked on the redhead's tall frame when he would stay the night then slip into them before work in the mornings - and he had loved the way they had looked pooled around his ankles even more.

Axel's throat is dry. So dry he can't he can't protest, he can't talk - he can't fucking breathe. His body shakes uncontrollably as Roxas' hands ghost across his skin, undressing him with the meticulous movements of those strong sun-kissed fingers - the same fingers that used to dance along tender skin and make him writhe in pleasure.

He watches numbly as his pants are tossed lazily across the room into a barrel of kerosene and newspaper, shoes and socks tailing them along with his watch, wallet and chain - he can't help but wonder if his body will later follow suit. Roxas hums a soft melody as he works at the buttons of Axel's blood-stained shirt, pulling it open to reveal the smooth expanse of his lover's alabaster chest.

"Roxas…" Axel's plea is dead on both of their ears as Roxas pulls out a small carving knife, twirling it between talented fingers before trailing it gently - blade down - along the sensitive curve of Axel's neck.

"Hush." Roxas orders sweetly, he then runs the blade along the sleeves of Axel's shirt - slicing the garment until he can easily strip the redhead of his shirt without undoing the ropes binding Axel's arms together. Singing quietly, Roxas strides over to the barrel and strikes a match that he pulls from the back pocket of his jeans. He tosses it in along with Axel's blood-stained shirt and the barrel bursts to life with flames.

Axel watches the fire rage silently behind Roxas as he walks back to him - and even with his back to the flame…the reflection of fire rages violently in those beautiful ocean eyes.

"On your knees."

Axel does as told, falling to his knees before the only person he's ever truly loved.

"Your eyes are so sad." Roxas states quietly, kneeling before him. The knife dances in the blond's left hand and Axel can't help but eye the gleaming tool with anxious, gut wrenching fear. Roxas leans forward, kissing at the warm flesh right above Axel's left pectoral muscle - hot tongue tracing something Axel can't quite make out.

Without warning, the blade starts carving into his skin and he hisses in pain - emerald eyes narrowing with tears as he stares at the blond's pretty little twisted face.

VIII

Seven painful lines it takes to script out the number eight in roman numerals. Blood trickles down his chest in thick trails, the fresh wound grotesque and burning agonizingly.

"You handled that rather well." Roxas compliments with a smile. He leans in, letting his tongue swirl around Axel's nipple until the tender bud rises hard in his mouth. When he pulls away the tip of his tongue is stained red with blood.

"Eight?" He inquires out loud, staring down at his carved, bloody chest.

"You'll be number eight when we're finished here tonight." Roxas answers casually, as if chatting about baseball over a couple of beers and pizza. They'd done that a few times, months before - how did it come to this? Why hadn't he seen the signs sooner? Why had he followed Roxas that night?

Roxas stares at Axel's nude form with an unreadable expression. He'd grown fond of that body, that hair, that smile, those eyes - that man. It was almost a shame Axel's curiosity had gotten the better of him the night he'd done off Saïx…perhaps they'd be making love in the upstairs bedroom right now instead of this.

With a sigh Roxas pushes Axel's face to the ground, grabbing the shiny revolver from behind him. "If it's any consolation…I liked you best out of all of them." He watches those blazing emerald eyes spill crystal tears onto the plastic sticking to his tattooed cheek, and he almost feels guilty -

- almost.

"You were my favorite." The blond opens a jar of Vasoline, coating the barrel lightly in the slick gel. Axel debates begging for his life, body trembling as sobs escape him.

"Well, I suppose we should get on with it then." Roxas positions his gun and Axel can't help the pathetic plea that rips from his lips. "Spread em' wide, baby."

...Bang.

…You're like a hot revolver -
But you ain't killin' no one but yourself

Well there you have it. If it seems familiar, it's because I had it under a previous Phobia series (speaking of that series: I'll try to pick that back up again sometime when I don't have fifty billion other projects lined up.)

Input? Thoughts? Concerns about my mental health?

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AceAnomaly