A/N: WARNING: This fiction is rated M for mild Language and sexual activities between two males (of the Zexion x Demyx persuasion).

Since this is un-beta'd, I ask you to please excuse any minor mistakes. If you find any that I've overlooked, feel free to send me a POLITE PRIVATE MESSAGE telling me what and where they are. It would be greatly appreciated, and I'll correct the errors as soon as possible.

Disclaimer : All characters belong to Square Enix. I make no profit from this published work.

"You have class tomorrow?"

"No."

Wanna spend the night?"

"...Sure."

Big mistake. Demyx was the only college student I knew who still asked his friends if they wanted to spend the night. And I was the only idiot who still said yes.

I should've told him no, should've told him I needed to study for my upcoming exams—and it was true. Mostly. I couldn't very well tell him that I didn't want to spend the night alone with him in his small apartment because lately, just the sight of him makes my throat dry. I couldn't tell him that he makes me nervous simply by being near me, that I have the most inappropriate urges when we're inches apart.

I can still say no—tell him I forgot I had to do something tonight. But my mouth just would. Not. Move.

"Eight...Are you listening to me, Zexy?"

"Huh?" Oh, that's nice, Zexion. Your verbal skills will make him melt at your feet. He smiled at me gently, a slow stretch of his face.

"I said, do you want to come over around eight? I can make us dinner or something."

Here's your chance, Zexion. Say no. Just say—"Okay." I didn't think I'd ever wanted to smack my head against the nearest solid surface more.

His face lit up, eyes excited. I didn't even know what he was so ecstatic about but it radiated like a lighthouse beam.

"Cool! I'll see you then, Zexion!" His smile was infectious as he put headphones in his ears and made the corners of my own disobedient mouth tug upwards. I watched him walk away, hips swaying provocatively to whatever song he was listening to. Sighing at the unwelcome stirring in my body, I turned to trudge back to my dorm.

I fucking hate myself.

I hated myself even as I was knocking on apartment E9 promptly at eight o'clock.

"Zexy? Is that you?" he asked even as he was opening the door. I gave him a thin smile as greeting to match his much more enthusiastic one. Sniffing as I set down my pack by the door, I looked through to the open kitchen. Steam was rising and warming his apartment with delicious smells. Something hissed in warning on the stove.

"Demyx?" I pointed. "Your pot."

"Oh shit!" he gasped and bounded across the room to save our meal. His blond hair seemed to bounce along with him despite the obnoxious amounts of gel he slathered in each day.

I still couldn't figure out what to call his current favorite hairstyle; it was a peculiar crossbreed between a Mohawk and a Mullet. Oddly, it suited him and his angular face, his playful blue eyes, his animated personality.

Slipping off my shoes respectively by the door next to his own, I walked into the kitchen as he waved steam away, stirred, tasted, added salt, tasted again. I was careful not to stand too close just in case his scent overpowered the aroma of what he was cooking, and ordered myself to behave, just in case.

Noticing me off to the side of him Demyx smiled at me and said, "It's okay. And it's almost ready. Would you get some plates and glasses please?"

Reaching up in the cabinet to comply, I asked him what we were having.

He grinned at me as he checked, tasted another dish. "Beef stew on rice."

Neatly setting the small table, I paused to frown at him. "You mean like from a can?" It was a dish I often made when I didn't have enough time to cook a proper meal, or enough money to go out for one. And it surprised me that he would make something so simple when he was such a talented cook.

With a short laugh he said, "No silly! It's homemade—my mother's recipe."

Lifting my head in acknowledgement, I reached into his small fridge to grab water for myself, a coke for Demyx. Homemade sounded much more like him.

"Kay," he said cheerfully, bringing the metal container to the table and plopping it down on a potholder I'd set out, repeated the action with the pot of rice. "It's ready!" He pulled out a chair for himself, dropped into it, gestured for me to do the same.

"Dig in!"

That first bite was indescribable. The beef seemed to melt in my mouth, the carrots, onions, and potatoes were cooked to perfection, the gravy was thick and flavorful, and the rice complemented everything in a simple way that had my mouth singing.

Demyx looked at me expectantly.

"This is great!" I said after swallowing and wiping my mouth. He chewed on his bottom lip anxiously.

"You don't think it needs anything?" His hand came up to tug on one of the short strands tickling the back of his neck.

"What?" I laughed a little at his expression and the absurdity of his question. "No, Demyx. This is absolutely perfect."

His cheeks flushed a lovely shade of light pink at the complement and I had to force down the familiar flash of desire. He ate daintily; almost girlish in the gentle way he held his spoon, his soda. It became increasingly harder for me to drown the fire spreading through my veins. His laughs during conversation sent waves of unwanted lust below my belt, and the way his eyes were glued to my face, bright blue and only for me made me want to groan. If one slipped out I could always blame it on his delicious food...

For a while I was stiff; it always took me several minutes to loosen up around others, even Demyx who I'd been friends with for years. But as I began to relax, laugh and smile easier, talk without his gentle prompts, I could feel the desire dissipate to a warm, tingling buzz across my skin. I thought for a moment that I wouldn't have any more trouble with my stupid male hormonal urges, but then we finished eating and after Demyx rinsed the pots and plates, he bent to put them in the dishwasher. Oh God, that subtle curve was so inviting for my mouth I had to bite my lip, so inviting for my hands I had to link them behind me to keep from reaching out. I wanted to run my fingertips down the shoulder blades that jutted out slightly, across his back and over the smooth slope of his ass.

Need was bright and hot and deep in my stomach. You're killing me, Demyx...

"Wanna watch a movie?" he sighed out with a long stretch of honeyed limbs after slamming the washer shut. I leaped at the chance for a distraction from the growing discomfort in my jeans.

Should've stayed home, should've stayed home, should've stayed home...

I didn't even notice what DVD he'd popped into the TV. He sat beside me on his awful mustard yellow couch. Where on earth did he buy this thing? I wondered as I plucked at a loose string nervously. And what inclined him to buy it? I barely realized when the previews were over and the film began.

By the time it was half over, I'd given up on paying attention. Demyx had curled his long, jean-clad legs underneath him and was wiggling in excitement as the movie reached its climax. He'd probably seen it a hundred times; I didn't know why he found the same delight in it as the first time he'd watched it.

I wanted to be able to grin at his innocent, child-like reactions, but I was too busy gritting my teeth and fisting my hands.

I could smell him.

He had no right to smell that enticing—I had no right to be sniffing him; but I couldn't help it.

Underneath the unscented hair-gel I caught a light whiff of something citrusy. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was (shampoo?), but it mixed with the faded smell of his cologne, dark and spicy. It urged me to run my tongue up the line of his neck and back down to nibble at his pulse point. I could feel myself growing hard at the thought of having my mouth, my hands on his body. To distract myself, I deliberately put all my attention on the TV screen.

Credits were scrolling slowly up. Purposefully I folded my hands in my lap, hiding my arousal, cursing it, and the timing of the movie's end.

With another stretch and a happy groan, he unfolded his legs and laced his fingers, thrusting them up to bend over his head. He gave me a satisfied grin at the sound of his cracking knuckles and laughed lightly at my wince. His arms flopped back down to his sides.

"That was a great movie, huh?"

I smiled and nodded stiffly at his easy expression. Why couldn't I be as relaxed with him as he was with me?

I glanced at his wall clock. It read that it was only about 11:30 pm and I groaned inwardly. This was early for Demyx; He hardly ever went to bed before midnight. All I wanted was to go to sleep in peace. My problem would be gone by morning, and my personal rules of politeness had me obligated to stay at least until breakfast was over. Then I could go back to the secluded safety of my dorm.

To my utter surprise, Demyx yawned, jaw popping in the process.

"Are you tired?" I asked him, unable to keep the shock out of my voice.

Smiling sheepishly in understanding of my tone, he said, "Sort of. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh."

"Are you?"

"A bit." No I wasn't—not in the least, but it was simpler this way.

"Okay, well then I guess we'll go to bed." He stood slowly, flexing his toes in the carpet. His feet fascinated me with their long, bony toes, the high arch, the graceful transition from foot, to ankle, to muscular calve.

God, Zexion, can you get any weirder?

I stood as well, glancing momentarily at my shoes and deciding to leave them where they were as I retrieved my pack from beside the door. "I'll just sleep here," I pointed to the ugly couch.

His snort of laughter startled me and my gaze lifted to his.

"Don't be ridiculous, Zexion! You can sleep with me." He walked to his bedroom door and opened it, waiting for me to stand and follow.

Panic rose in my throat. No, I can't—shouldn't...but oh, God I want to... "You don't have to do that Demyx, really. I'm fine out here."

"Zexy," his voice held the slightest edge of impatience, "there is a bed that's too big for me; half isn't being used, and I promise it's more comfortable than that lumpy piece of crap. Stop being so nervous," he added with a laugh. "We used to have sleepovers all the time!"

Yeah, but that was before I wanted to get in your pants, I thought miserably, feeling defeated by his logic. I picked up my pack, slung it over my shoulder and followed him into his room.

"I'll be out in a minute," he threw over his shoulder as he stepped into the bathroom. I nodded, looking around his room as I heard the shower turn on.

It always surprised me, his simple elegance. Demyx had always had a love for the water—a love he had incorporated in his room.

His walls were a light shade of blue, like looking at a cloudless sky mid-day. Decorating the walls were pictures of ships: a small, single-mast skiff, a pirate ship, a yacht. A giant wooden clock in the shape of a ship's wheel hung over his bed. Even the carpet seemed to agree with Demyx's theme; His apartment had come with it, the soft beige, almost the color of sand. For a moment, caught in the scenery of his room, I wanted to dig my toes in—see if the sand was hot or cold.

Shaking my head at the ludicrous thought, I set my pack down on his bed. The spread was a rich, dark blue. I felt like I was peering though the depths of the sea. I turned down the bed and the sheets were the same angry color of gray as the pillows. The color of clouds filled with heavy rain, it was almost as if Demyx wanted to leap in the middle of a raging storm every night.

Unzipping my pack, I reached in for things I'd brought with me. Noticing that the shower was still running and hearing Demyx's soft, off-key voice, I quickly stripped off my jeans and shirt. I rolled off my socks and place them all in my pack neatly folded, before dragging on the loose, flannel sleep-pants and a tattered, old tank top.

Grabbing my comb, deodorant and toothbrush, I headed for the small guest bath in the living room just as the water stopped flowing. (I was slightly thankful, I would have hated to be rude, and steal his hot water.) I used its facilities, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and glanced longingly at the lumpy yellow couch before grudgingly returning to his room. I placed the items back in my pack before setting it beside the bed. Crawling into the soft sheets, I closed my eyes, praying I would fall asleep before Demyx was finished.

With a stifled sigh, I heard the door open. Cracking an eye, I saw him yawn hugely in his dark green boxers and giant 'David Bowie' t-shirt. He flipped off the light to the bathroom and, after strumming his long fingers once over the strings of his sitar, shuffled towards the bed. I felt the sheets lift, the bed shift as weight was added.

It was blissfully quiet for a moment. Then Demyx spoke softly. "Zexion?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm really glad you came over... I've missed you." I could almost see the smile on his face.

"Mmm," I murmured. I wished desperately to tell him that being here with him made me happy too. But I couldn't when part of me wanted more than I could have, and guilt overrode every pleasurable moment of his company.

"Zexion?"

I hmmm'd again.

"Is there something wrong?" I held my breath, wondering, waiting.

"You just seem...stiffer than usual." Oh Demyx, if only you knew.

Expelling my breath on a long sigh I told him, "I'm just stressed. Exams." I heard movement, felt him turn over. A hand came up to gently touch my bare arm.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" My body tensed under his light fingers. At the bunching of my muscles he drew that warm hand away. Was he hurt? Because I was. I was painfully hard at the simplest touch, that innocent gesture. I wanted to turn over and ravish him; I didn't even think I was capable of doing something like that!

I sighed again as I heard the sheets rustle. He had turned over to face the wall once more. Bracing myself against my invading curiosity, I asked him the one question I didn't know the answer to.

Demyx?"

"Yes?"

"...Are you...gay?" I couldn't suck the words back in; they had left my mouth before I'd even finished thinking the hopeful question, and I immediately felt ashamed of myself. I had no business asking something so invasive…

He was quiet for a moment; there was another shift, a sound of fabric moving, but his whisper wasn't facing my back. "If I said yes, would it make you uncomfortable?"

More uncomfortable than I already was? But I knew that wasn't what he meant. I squirmed a bit, trying to find a suitable position for...all of me. "No."

I could hear the relief in his breath. "Yeah, Zexy. I'm gay."

Now why did I feel so damn happy?

"Are you going to tell me the real reason you've been acting odd around me now, or were you going to stick with 'exams'?"

I winced and sighed. My tank top was bunched around my stomach from all my fidgeting. I tried to fix it, but it seemed to only get worse. "Didn't believe me, huh?"

He snorted. "Please. My Zexy is never stressed about exams." Point for Demyx. I hadn't thought it through that well. And the fact that he said 'my Zexy' had not escaped my attention.

Resigned, I turned to face his back. At some point he'd discarded the David Bowie shirt and the sheets were pooled around his waist. He began to turn to face me.

"No, don't," I pleaded and, after a brief hesitation, he settled.

His skin looked so smooth; I longed to just touch him. "May I?" I asked quietly. Without even knowing what I meant, he lifted a bare shoulder for an answer.

Swallowing what was left in my dry mouth I reached out slowly, fingertips brushing hair away at the nape of his neck. His hair was soft and damp from the shower, all traces of gel gone. His skin seemed to jump at my light touch. I ran my fingers over the bumps of his spine and back up. I let them explore the sharp shoulder blades I'd admired after dinner. When they trailed down the curve of his rib-cage to his waist, he shivered.

"Sometimes you remind me of a girl," I murmured. It was probably the wrong thing to say, but it was the only thought in my head. My fingers continued to dance along that quivering, golden skin. "Certain things you do, ways you react. You're so gentle and soft. It's unsettling," I frowned.

"Then there's all this skin, smooth and curvy. Pretty," I whispered, my hand stopping, fingers splayed wide over his bony hip. "You aren't handsome, but you're beautiful in a way..."

Demyx shifted, and I didn't call out to stop him this time, making a point not to look in his eyes as he turned to face me. My hand slid off his side.

"Is that what you want Zexion? A pretty girl with all her soft skin and curves?" He surprised me with his question and the reach for my hand, placing it back on his hip. My eyes traveled lazily over his chest to find his. They were curious as his warm hand came up to frame my cheek; his smile was gentle and patient.

I leaned into the warm caress and closed my eyes momentarily. When I opened them again, I prayed he could see all my feelings: this unbearable attraction, all my uncertainty and fear. I just didn't know how to say them.

"No." Was that my voice? That sad, half-whine was me?

"Oh, Zexy." His voice was full of understanding as he scooted towards me gently.

My pitiful grip slipped down as he slid forward to rest at the small of his back. I drowned in those compassionate blue eyes. His lips were soft on mine; our kiss wasn't demanding—it was reassuring. When he pulled away, he sighed and leaned his forehead on mine.

"Demyx...I don't...I just..." Why can't I get out what I want to say? I couldn't tell him I was completely ignorant... I was embarrassed enough by the desperation I couldn't keep out of my tone.

With a little laugh he said, "It's okay, Zexy. I understand." He threaded his fingers, calloused from endless sitar playing, through my slate hair, brushing it out of my face and behind one ear. They seemed to be massaging my scalp and it felt wonderful, making me want to purr.

He hummed, thinking. "I have an idea. We can kiss for a while. Just kiss. If you want more all you have to do is say so. If that's it, well, there are other nights." He grinned at me cheekily. "And if you don't want to do any of it tell me now, and maybe you'll let me just hold you tonight?" He smile turned sheepish as I tried to think clearly. God, he's cute.

"Kissing...sounds good for now," I said softly with a small smile of my own.

He grinned at me and leaned in close. I secured my eyes closed tightly and waited. When I didn't feel his lips on me I peered through my lashes and he was trying to hold back a giggle.

"Relax," he told me. His hand came back to cup my cheek again, thumb brushing over my temple. "I won't push you Zexy."

Under his hand and his voice, I seemed to melt into the sheets. His arm slid underneath my side and pulled me to him, warm hand still firmly holding my cheek. My eyes slid closed under his as our lips touched. It was still soft, but it lasted longer this time. I could feel him breathing out of his nose as he pulled away a hair and came back, coaxing my mouth to dance with his.

Unsure of what I was doing, I moved my head, angling it with his and pressing against him. He sighed softly and opened his mouth the slightest bit for the tip of his tongue to dart out and trace the outline of my lower lip. Its' wet warmth startled me and I almost pulled away, but it was such a gentle touch, my mouth fell open in surprised pleasure on its own.

Demyx cradled the back of my head, as if it would fall off if he let go. I swore it would have, and I was so grateful for those massaging fingers. They relaxed me, and I was so nervous.

He made a sound like a cat purring and it tickled pleasantly against my lips as his tongue slid in, softly exploring my mouth. It ran along the top row of my teeth and slicked along my own tongue, before flicking up to the roof of my mouth and back down to play with my tongue again.

I couldn't help the little moan of my own. I'd never felt like this before. My skin was humming, buzzing with electricity. My mouth was tingling against his and I wondered if he could feel it. I was scorching hot and shivering cold at the same time. I pressed myself closer against him and he tightened his grip around me.

"Zexion," he sighed against me as he changed the angle, the pressure to harder, more urgent.

His tongue flicked over mine quicker, his teeth nipped my bottom lip and I tried to follow his rhythm, tried to mirror his actions. Experimenting, my tongue slid into his mouth and did what he had done, over his teeth, his tongue. He tasted like toothpaste, minty and fresh.

I felt him smile into our kiss, happy that I was finally participating. Lips more gentle now, he pulled away with two short kisses before whispering, "Don't freak out, okay? I'm going to try something."

A bit breathless, I nodded. He moved along my jaw, placing a kiss here and there, nipping a bit at my skin. Each little touch had me tightening my grip on him till I was sure it would bruise, but he didn't say 'ow', didn't ask me to stop. My head fell back as he sucked the lobe of my ear into his mouth.

"God," I moaned as he nibbled along the edge, breathing heavily. His tongue traced the shell of my ear and drove me crazy.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, the breath making me tremble.

Apparently all I could do to answer 'God yes, please don't stop' was to growl low in my throat. I'd never made that noise before in my life and to feel that harsh vibration, to feel Demyx moan softly at the sound and at my grip was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to me.

I don't know how I missed the movement but somehow he was suddenly straddling my hips, crushing his body, his lips against mine as if we had only minutes left to live and he wanted to spend them kissing me. I couldn't tell whether he'd swung himself over or if I'd pulled him, but I liked the result. Our groins were pressed together and with every one of his little wriggles to get comfortable, he created friction. I could feel him; he was as hard as me.

I dragged my nails up his bare back, another thing I'd never done. I'd read about it of course, but I didn't want to do anything wrong or anything he didn't like. I dearly hoped I was doing this 'making out' thing correctly. Obviously I did okay because he groaned into my open mouth and rubbed our hips together purposefully.

"Zexion." It was a whimper. I couldn't think, was afraid I couldn't answer. I searched for his lips again, found them and chewed on his bottom lip. I couldn't focus on what I was doing; I was going by instinct and need.

"Zexion," he said again, as he gently pulled away from my mouth with a smile.

Gasping for breath, I became, once again, the most articulate man in the world. "Yeah, God, what?"

He repeated himself from earlier. It comforted me to know that I wasn't the only one trying to catch their breath when he spoke in a soft little pant. "All you have to do…is tell me…if you want more."

Did I? Did I want more? Did I want to go further with him, past kissing? I was afraid that if I said no—I knew he would understand but—I would never get up the nerve to kiss him again, or let him kiss me. I was so inexperienced and his mind-numbing talent in just kissing told me he'd gone farther before. I didn't want to disappoint. But I thought I'd rather be a lousy lay than never touch, or be touched by, him again.

I pulled him towards me once more and with a small, timid kiss I said, "Demyx, I… I want you."

My eyes had long ago adjusted to the almost complete darkness. Navy blue, the sky gave us the smallest amount of light, just enough for me to see his cheeky smile and his eyes glaze over.

"I just…don't really know what to do." I was grateful for the darkness; he wouldn't be able to see my mortified blush, but I'm sure he knew it was there anyway.

"It's okay, Zexion." He leaned down to give me two quick kisses on the lips, lingering a bit more than necessary on the second before moving to my ear to nibble briefly and whisper, "We'll do this the easy way."

There's an easy way? I was about to ask him what it was when he ground his hips against mine again, moaned into my ear and made my brain go fuzzy. I could feel one of his hands sneak under my shirt and push it up slightly to hold my sides.

"Shirt," he groaned. It took me a moment to figure out what he meant. "Off, ah!" He gasped as I tried the biting-along-the-jaw thing he'd done to me earlier. "Get it out of the way, Zexy." He sat up, chest heaving. Even with the fan on in his room there was a light sheen of sweat covering his torso. I leaned up to do as he wanted, glad to be rid of the irritating cloth.

The sound of it hitting the floor didn't even register with me because Demyx had wiggled down my body, sitting on my legs and suddenly attacking my chest.

He used his lips, his tongue, his hands and nails, his teeth. I couldn't help arching into his touch. Surprising myself with the way I bowed up off the bed, I gripped his tanned shoulders. When he caught one of my nipples in his teeth I had no idea it would feel that good, to be handled like that. With all that desperation and heat, he was driving me towards insanity.

"Dem, God," I groaned as he scraped his nails across one nipple, nibbling on the other with his teeth, not being gentle but he wasn't hurting me. "Demyx."

I didn't even realize he'd scooted farther down and it was just his hands on my chest until that long, hot and wet tongue of his slipped under the waistband of flannel to tease. It surprised me so much that I shot up in his bed with a gasp.

He stopped and looked at me questioningly. "Sorry, too fast?"

Shaking my head vigorously I told him, "No, no. You just startled me, that's all."

With a little grin he whispered seductively, "Well this will feel good. Relax, Zexy. Trust me, you'll enjoy this."

Breathing hard in understanding, I flopped not-so-gracefully back down on his bed. With a hesitant lift of my hips, he was slowly sliding down my loose pants and boxers. Faintly, I was glad he'd done them at the same time; I didn't think I would've been able to quell the embarrassment of doing it twice.

His breath was tickling my thighs and his hands felt like ice on my heated skin. I'd shut my eyes tight, more unsure than I'd been the whole night. I was completely exposed. He was just looking at me; he had yet to say anything. The fact that he knew exactly the effect he had on me, and how strong it was… It was mortifying and ridiculously arousing at the same time. I wanted to reach for him, but my hands were shaking so I kept them at my sides.

He didn't hesitate. It was too much and not enough when he wrapped his lips around me. I could feel my heartbeat throbbing in his mouth and I wondered if he felt it too as he ran his—God, his tongue—along the rigid sides of me.

His teeth scraped and I shook. His hands explored and I quivered. I was helpless and lost. I felt weightless and heavy at the same time, as if I could float off the bed or sink through the floor like lead at any moment. My name slid from his busy lips and it slithered over my body, hot and wet like an extra tongue. I felt stroked in places he hadn't even touched yet, just by him speaking my name.

I knew it was probably pathetic of me, to get so worked up over something like my first intimacy, but I couldn't bring myself to care when he pulled away from my aching body to attach his perfect, swollen lips to mine.

I felt him move against me and I praised his name and pleaded for things I didn't have any knowledge of. "Dem, Demyx, oh please, Dem. I can't, I can't stand it. Please, Demyx."

Briefly I wondered if I sounded as virginal as I felt. But his own urgency waved away my worries and every insecurity. Was I scared? Was I afraid to give something as precious as my body away? In general, yes, the idea made me nervous. But with Demyx I knew everything would be just fine. I felt protected and comfortable with him and the way he kissed me—not just on my lips but on the corners of my mouth, on my nose and my eyes, on my jaw and temples and every inch in between—just felt so right and natural. There was no need for uneasiness when I was in his arms, warm and safe.

He made this strange corkscrew motion with his hands below his mouth and I cried out, eyes scrunching closed. But then a hand disappeared and so did his lips. I whimpered at the loss and mindlessly jerked my hips up towards his face but he only laughed and—after a wet sucking sound—kissed, licked, and gently nipped his way down my length. His mouth continued lower and I sharply drew in my breath as he came to the tender sac.

My hand flew to his damp hair and held tight as my thighs tensed around him, eyes staying shut in my unease. "Relax," he whispered against my sensitive skin and my hand loosened its grip on his hair. I shivered at the feel of his breath, hot and moist.

When he very gently drew a testicle into his soft mouth my back arched off of the bed and my hand gripped at his hair again. Carefully he ran his tongue over the rough skin and I shook under his mouth, barely restraining myself from bucking my hips.

There was another wet sound and Demyx moaned around me; the vibration tingled along my skin and I groaned his name as he released me with a light 'pop'. I looked down at him and his eyes were so cloudy, so glazed over. He looked absolutely gorgeous.

Needing him, I tugged gently at his hair and he followed the pull up to my mouth. His lips were dark and swollen and soft on mine. His tongue was wet and smooth and played with mine leisurely. There was a bitterness to his taste that wasn't there before. I assumed it was me, but I surprised myself but not finding it disgusting in the least. It just made this all more real…

One hand came up to rest half against my neck, half against my jaw and his thumb stroked softly as we kissed. He was incredible and I didn't realize until he pulled back and smiled, panting softly that I had said it aloud.

Suddenly he dropped his head to my chest and groaned, bucking against me and I gasped; he was so hard and he slid wetly against my thigh with his short thrusts.

"Zexion," he gasped my name and I wasn't quite sure what to do next. I wanted to continue kissing him because his lips were perfection and I knew I could spend forever on just his mouth, but I was so achingly hard and it was so hot in his room—the fan gave little relief—with his warm and flushed skin against mine.

I scratched lightly at the base of his skull and he moaned, closing his mouth around a nipple.

We ground against each other and he alternated between nibbling and flicking his tongue over me, and I alternated between scratching at his scalp and tugging on his hair. It didn't take me long to realize that the harder I yanked, the more he moaned and thrust against me.

There was a tightness in my groin as we moved with each other and I arched into his lovely touch, moaning his name.

My voice sounded so odd… I'd never heard it so raspy or thick. Demyx shifted against me and there was another wet noise, and he cried out into my skin, calling my name. Vaguely I wondered what the sound was but he was kissing me again and I quickly lost my train of thought unless it involved his name and yes.

He propped himself up on an elbow and the way he looked at me stripped me bare. His gaze was intense on mine and I'd never seen something so erotic as when he scooted up to my ear, nibbled on the shell and breathed heavily that he wanted me, had to have me, now, oh, God please, now.

Vision blurred by desire I nodded shakily and he moved to straddle my waist, both hands in view and he reached—stretching his beautiful torso above me in the process and I couldn't help but to run my fingertips over his slender sides—for the bedside table. He yanked open a drawer and rummaged around until he made a quiet, triumphant noise.

It shouldn't have been as arousing as it was for him to rip open the condom packet and slide it onto me so fast I barely had time to shiver at his hand moving on my aching groin.

Everything felt like a dream, like it was to wonderful to be reality, but the condom that suddenly covered me made it all very real, very concrete. I shook off the nerves as best as I could.

When Demyx kissed me one more time and ran a slippery hand up and down my arousal I jolted as he leaned back and reached to position me.

What? Wait. But we haven't… doesn't he need…? I didn't want to hurt him and my hand snapped out to grab his wrist.

"Demyx, don't we have to…" But I was rendered speechless by the way he leaned forward and teasingly licked the outline of my lips.

"I already did."

Oh, God. The hand that disappeared… the wet sounds; the pleasure in his voice and on his face when I hadn't touched him… Everything was terribly clear and the yearning I felt for him constricted around my heart like a tight fist. My fingers loosened from his wrist and fell limp to the dark sheets.

"Demyx," I said helplessly as he took me in his hand and guided himself down.

Heat and need wrapped around me and covered me in a heavy, suffocating cloth. I struggled for breath as he stilled; I could feel that he was seated as far as he could go and I covered my mouth with my hands. Gasping with every short breath and legs straining with the craving to move and thrust, by some miracle I held myself still. I bit my palm to keep from screaming at the intense bliss, the exquisite perfection that was Demyx closed tightly around me, biting his lip, face an alluring mixture of pain and pleasure.

And then he began to move.

I must have made an unmanly sound when he lifted his hips oh so slowly, and sank back down with outrageous patience, because he made a sound of his own and it was the breathiest, sexiest laugh he'd made all night, paired with a smirk that fell open to convey bliss as he moved up, down, again.

My hands gripped at the sheets as they had done earlier, but I couldn't shut my eyes against the pleasure. I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he gained a rhythm and moved faster, stealing my breath, my heart.

"I've wanted this for so long." Demyx's words were shaky. "Wanted you…" He leaned down to kiss me and his tongue brushed against mine in a soft caress.

He was all I could see in my hazy vision as he rode me, lifting his hips and slamming them down, one hand fisting in his hair and pulling his head back with a loud, open-mouthed moan, the other gripping my hip to steady himself. I tried my hardest to keep up, meet my hips with his, going up when he went down, but it was so difficult to concentrate.

Demyx wanted me? I thought in wonder as I slid my hands into his damn hair, tugged lightly. He wanted me?

He was gloriously beautiful in every sound he made: gasps and pants, and moans and cries, mostly unintelligible words and broken sentences. But some were of my name, just my name and he looked right at me when he said it, his blue eyes so bright and fuzzy and trying to focus on my face as he leaned down to sloppily kiss me. His lips were soft, warm, wet and swollen and barely touching me as his hips continued to move and his eyes would slowly close as he slowed his pace and Oh, God, I loved him. I loved Demyx so much and I was so close—I wanted him to be too.

I released the sheets from my grip and, shaking, put them on Demyx's slender hips. His skin was slick and shining from sweat. I knew he wouldn't mind so I dug my nails in to hold on and he slammed down on me hard with a cry.

A choked groan escaped my throat and it may have been his name, but I wasn't paying attention to what I was saying because there were times when Demyx's eyes would widen and his mouth would fall open in shock to the ceiling as he lifted, fell, lifted, fell faster, harder. He had me completely enraptured.

I thrust up quickly as he came down and he stumbled forward, nearly sobbing my name as his hands clawed at my chest for support, or just to touch.

I dug my nails in deeper and clenched my teeth in the effort to keep him still. I wanted to do this for him; I wanted to show him that I could give him pleasure without him doing most of the work.

I snapped my hips up, and up, and up again as he shuddered in my hands, body shaking on my chest as he ran his lips across my collarbone. He nibbled at the tender skin of my neck and I groaned harshly.

"Zexion." His voice was shaky and hot against my skin and he moved his mouth to my ear, drawing a lobe in. "Close…"

"Yeah," I agreed with him, trying so very hard to keep my rhythm but his hands were sliding to my shoulders, flexing over the skin and hanging on as Demyx pushed himself back onto me when I thrust into him, and it made it so difficult.

I cried out, hips erratic, breath short, mindlessly slamming into him and he stilled, quivering in my hands and let me take, and take, and take. He buried his face in my neck, hands scrabbling and finally coiling his arms behind my straining shoulders, holding on as he sobbed my name.

I saw stars when he came. Little bright flashes of light burst in front of my eyes, dancing around his face, his hair. He was still vibrating over me, fingers grabbing and scratching at my skin.

Demyx lifted his head and looked at me; his eyes were strangely wet and his breath washed over me in a hot puff of air. Pulling his arms out from under my slick back he placed them on my cheeks, holding my gaze, making me focus on his face, lovely and flushed, his eyes, blurry and stunning. His hands trembled and when he brought his lips close to mine, touching but not kissing, and whispered, "come," I trembled with him.

He closed around me, tight and hot like his mouth had been and with a shout, I obeyed. I dug my feet into the mattress and lifted my hips off the bed, shutting my eyes and he slammed down to meet me. I shook powerfully and grunts and gasps of surprise and pleasure tore through me as Demyx stroked my face, my straining neck, my tense shoulders. My eyes popped open and he looked at me with such naked adoration.

My hips sank to the bed, my hands fell from his waist, boneless. I closed my eyes. My heart raced, my skin tingled all the way from my toes to my ears. My breath was cut and broken, and his name fell from my lips. "Demyx, Demyx, Demyx." I love you, I love you, I love you.

Tremors ran through me once, twice, and I was helpless once more. Murmuring nonsense, Demyx continued stroking me in calming circles and lines as he lay on my chest. His hair was tickling my nose and it still smelled of citrus from his shower; it mixed with the oddly sweet scent of sweat, the heavy smell of sex. Another tremor raced through me, because in a second, I was seeing what we had shared all over again.

My name, his name; my skin, his skin; my pleasure, his pleasure. Laughs, gasps, pants, words, sobs, scrabbling hands and frantic mouths. Every cry, every thought, every unspoken admission, every thrill.

I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry because it was everything I'd dreamed I couldn't have. But I was really with Demyx, he was beautifully naked on top of me and I could feel him smiling into my shoulder.

I heard my name through the ringing in my ears and I opened my eyes to look at him. He turned his head and looked at me from where he rested on my chest.

"You okay?" His voice was soft and breathy.

"Better than," I replied with a foolish grin.

"Good." He closed his eyes and we were silent for a few minutes, getting our breath back.

"Demyx?" He hmmm'd sleepily in response. "I love you."

He slowly lifted his head and looked at me. Smiling gently, the same way he had before he'd kissed me, he said, "I love you, too." Gently he placed his lips on mine. After a long moment of leisurely kissing and quiet sounds of enjoyment from both of us he pulled away and laid his head back on my shoulder.

"Can we do this again, sometime?" It was probably a silly question but I could feel Demyx smile as he scraped his teeth over my shoulder and I knew it didn't matter.

"Sure, Zexy."

Thank God. "When?" I asked.

He pressed his lips against my skin and murmured, "Whenever you want."

Threading my fingers through his hair I whispered, nervous all over again, "How about tomorrow morning?" He didn't say anything, like he was waiting for me to finish and I tentatively added on, "After breakfast?"

He lifted his head and smiled at me, slow and wide with comprehension. "Sounds perfect."

I was able to think that I was never more grateful of being proven wrong before he kissed me with fervor and, giddy with love for him, still able to feel the tingles in my fingers, I pulled him closer and lost myself again.

Because I was with Demyx and he was beautifully naked on top of me, body soft and smooth, his skin salty under my tongue. And he loved me.

Aww. Sappy ending is sappy. I'm really happy with this story and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I haven't been into this pairing for that long but they're so sweet together, I simply couldn't resist writing something (hopefully) sexy and romantic.

Please excuse the horribly long break I've had from posting anything-I'm still very new at this whole posting-my-work-online thing and am trying to find a routine so you don't get something once every four or five months... Bear with me while I get a schedule worked out! (I'm aiming for one story a month, and then faster by the time I get more used to the routine.

Please REVIEW guys. I enjoy hearing from you; it makes my morning, evening, and night. :)

Much love.