Title: Be Still My Heart (Thou Hast Known Worse Than This)

Rating: M FOR MATURE! I mean it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Roxas, or Axel, or vampires.

Warnings: Male x Male interactions, if you know what I mean. Vampires, blood, not-too-graphic smut, basically. PWP, at the moment.

Notes and such: So I saw a video on the tubes, of Axel/Roxas vampirey-ness, and I really wanted to write about that. I didn't mean for this to come out of it, but it did, so there's nothing I can do about it! The thought of Axel being a vampire just makes my stomach tingle in all the right ways. ; ) Does anyone else have that feeling? Well, I didn't mean to write anything sexual at all (This is the naughtiest thing I've ever written!), and if it's horrible, I apologize! And sorry it's so short; this was all I could come up with, without turning it into a full-fledged story with chapters and whatnot. Haha, enjoy!

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Roxas now understood firsthand why so many books had glorified the art of vampires feeding off of their prey. For the vampire, it was more like an act of hunger, a way to keep their already immortal lifespan healthy and powerful. But for the one being fed on, well, it was the most sensual and erotic feeling one could imagine.

It hurt, but it hurt so good.

Almost better than anything he had experienced, Roxas had absolutely no control over his body as he surrendered to the intense pleasure coursing through his body. It was making his heart pump so fast, he was afraid it would just hop out of his chest of its own accord. Little to say, this pleased the vampire immensely. The blood which so dutifully swam through his veins and twisted its way around his heart increased its now-erratic flow, bringing with it a satisfied sigh of content that blew across his neck and sent him on a path of pure bliss.

This would be his undoing, he was sure of it. If he managed to live past this experience, he was sure that he would die from the sheer lack of this feeling in his life. He needed this. This presence and existence should be his, and no one else's.

In the most masochistic way, he wanted the vampire to bite him again, over and over. To bring about that painfully intense delight was something he was sure only the Gods could do. This was the only person he ever wanted to worship, from now on. To think he had ever considered believing in another party was such a silly idea that he almost felt the need to laugh.

But it was considerably lower on his list of things he needed to do. His top priority at the moment, was filling this ache—this desire—that was cumulating in his lower belly, swimming around like a warm lava that needed to satisfy its hunger for destruction.

He pushed against the thin, pale body wrapped so tightly around his, a feat he was absolutely positive would not have been possible without the other's allowance, and stared up at the vampire.

The glowing green eyes were so bright and clear that Roxas was sure if he tried to dip his fingers into the seemingly liquid substance, they'd return coated in a color that so purely ethereal and beautiful. There was no color in the world that could compare to this vampire's eyes, a fact he was willing to bet his life on.

A dark pink tongue inched its way out and slid across those plump lips, entrancing Roxas as they did little to no good cleaning up the remnants of their feeding session, the thick red blood smearing across those heavenly lips. He wanted to lick them. His body craved more contact, his fingers itching to thread themselves through those vibrant red locks that gave the man such a unique look.

He was so fucking sexy, and Roxas intended to show him just how much.

Doing exactly as he pleased, Roxas wove his short but determined fingers inelegantly into the colored tresses, massaging the vampire's scalp lightly as he just basked in the feel of those silken threads running along his skin. He had barely touched the man freely, before he felt like his body would combust.

His lips planted themselves roughly against the vampires before he really even know what he was doing. They gave him a warm chill, the heat from the blood that had been there only seconds before had already begun cooling. The cool lips were unresponsive, and he pressed harder, hoping for some sort of reaction. When there was none, Roxas released a frustrated sob. Perhaps the man just needed some more enticement.

Twisting his body around, he flattened himself against the taut one in front of him. His lips detached themselves from their former spot against those beautifully red lips of his vampire companion, and trailed down the white flesh of his neck. Fingers seeming to move of their own accord, they began unbuttoning the dark black dress shirt, revealing their wake a strip of smooth, cool skin that looked so inviting when Roxas pulled back to examine his work.

This man was a masterpiece, and Roxas was jealous of whoever got to bring this delectable piece of work to life.

Or not, rather, since vampires are dead.

Pushing as hard as his strength against a vampire would let him, Roxas intended for him to sit on the bed, and the redhead complied, albeit precariously.

He couldn't have chosen a more perfect setting himself. His attacker, so beautiful in front of him, had brought him to this isolated room earlier. Roxas had been unconscious, but when he had awoken he was alone, and confused. Desperate to find out where he was and why, he had hastily rushed out of the bed, only to be held captive upon the time his feet had jumped to the ground, until now.

Not that I really mind anymore, he thought.

Smirking down at the man, he slowly crawled on top of him, his pant-covered legs maneuvering themselves to straddle the vampire. He sat himself on the stiff lap, his arms swinging around the neck that now had little spots of his blood staining it from his adventurous lips only seconds ago.

Those jade hues were staring up at him bewildered, and Roxas took his time to admire the aristocratic features and bone structure of his face. He didn't have long, because he suddenly found himself with a mouthful of the man in front of him. In less than a second, those previously indifferent lips were sealed against his and Roxas couldn't fight it.

The dimmed heat that had settled in his stomach roared into a blazing fire as he felt that delicious tongue delve into his mouth expertly.

It was a coppery taste that intruded his mouth, but it couldn't have been more perfect at the time. It was him and this man mixed together in a taste that was so purely sexual, and he wanted more. His body seemed to take on a mind of its own, and Roxas involuntarily ground his hips forward.

Hands clung to his hips harshly, fingers digging into his skin, and Roxas knew he'd have bruises in the shape of those hands. But he didn't care.

For a moment, he got the sinking feeling that he had done something wrong when those fleshy lips stopped moving against him, and the vampire became still as a rock. Was he going to be pushed away?

He was about to apologize and beg, when the grip on his hips loosened fractionally, and the man thrust his lower body up at the same time he pushed Roxas down against him, causing a wonderful movement that caused a friction he could only have dreamed of.

The noise that wrenched itself out of his mouth was both embarrassing and undignified, but he couldn't have cared less. The man beneath him let out a low growl and continued to force the motion, before Roxas obeyed and began to grind his hips of his own free will. It was something he had never felt before, this incredible sensation that was overpowering him and making his vision hazy.

The vampire's lips were attached to his neck, and how long they'd been there, Roxas had no idea.

His skin tingled and he suddenly became hypersensitive to every little touch and graze of the redhead's fingers. They were cold, but nowhere near the iciness he had heard so much about.

Somehow, during his observation, he had lost his shirt and been flipped down onto the plush bed. It was soft and squishy beneath him, nothing at all like the God above him who was rocking against his body in the most delicious ways.

He knew vampires were fast. It was common knowledge that with their immortality and strength, they also inherited speed. He supposed that the fact he hadn't noticed his clothes quickly disappearing and changes in position was not due to his inattentiveness, but rather because of the vampire's desire to speed things along. The hurried movements of their hips seemed rough and quick, but to the man on top of him, the actions must have seemed agonizingly slow.

When that tongue met with his again, Roxas could once more taste the renewed blood of his neck. He could still feel the trickle of it as it slid down his neck and was probably staining the sheets. What color were they, anyways?

He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember a lot of things; little seemingly insignificant details were now eluding him.

Who was this man?

He didn't say. We've never even spoken before.

What had he even been wearing earlier?

Something white? Brown? Whatever it was, it's gone now.

He turned his head to the side to stare at his strewn clothes on the wooden floor. When had his pants made their way over there, too?

Long, cool fingers slid around an all-too-familiar body part down there, and that improper sound vocalized itself yet again. He was faintly aware of the loud gasping noises he made as those digits slowly slid up and down, applying pressure before easing off.

He had done this to himself before, but it had never felt this amazing. The fact that nobody had ever touched him like this before didn't even register in his mind as a reason.

He screamed out when sharp teeth penetrated his neck again, in the same spot as before, and his body shuddered powerfully, a warm liquid pooling on his stomach. Little white specks fogged up his eyes, fading in and out as his chest heaved with his large gulps of air.

His body felt numb, and cold. Limbs like lead, he laid there unmoving, and barely noticed the quiet sucking noise he heard to his right.

What was going on?

He felt so light, but at the same time too heavy. And yet, strangely peaceful.

Was he dying?

Probably. What a way to go out, though.

He couldn't even manage to form a smile at his morbid thoughts. If this was what he'd feel like for the rest of his existence, then bring it on. He could live—or die, rather—with this content all around him, filling his body and mind.

Should I continue this? I stopped it there because I figured if I didn't want to keep on with it, it would just be a PWP. But if people are interested, I have ideas...

Let me know!