Coricomile (coricomile) wrote in twilighttown,

  • Music:
Title: Plastic Cup Politics
Pairing: Roxas/Seifer
Rating: R
Summary: "You're mine for three hours." Seifer kicked the auto-timer again. Roxas clenched his teeth at the numbers. They had been pre-set. Seifer had known without a doubt that he would win. "Starting now."

The back of Roxas' head cracked into the brick wall behind him. His vision danced and blurred from the impact, and his hands instantly balled up into fists against an opponent he couldn't see. Big hands fisted his shirt and lifted him up until the tips of his shoes were all that touched the ground.

"Get off!" Roxas shook his head a few times to clear it, angering as he saw Seifer below him. He kicked at the other boy's stomach, clumsy with dizziness. Seifer shook him once.

"Shut up, loser." Seifer dropped him down heavily onto his feet. The soles of Roxas' shoes didn't absorb the shock, leaving his legs stinging and sore. One of the big hands was still pressed into his chest to keep him against the wall. Roxas felt the sneer that was building up on his lips before he could check it. Seifer shook him again.

"Is the Disciplinary Committee into beating up kids for the hell of it now?" Roxas checked over the other boy's shoulder. Alone.

"Don't act innocent, lamer. You're always guilty of something." Seifer held his head higher, looking down over the arch of his nose and into the coldness of Roxas' glare. After a moment, he spoke again. "I'm not here to beat on you-"

"Are you sick?"

"-Unless you give me a reason." Seifer smacked the side of Roxas' head with his free hand- open- as a warning. Roxas swore quietly when his teeth sank into the vulnerable flesh inside his lower lip. He lifted a hand to his mouth, slipping a finger in to check for blood. Seifer was quiet. Roxas toyed with the new wound for a moment, awkward.

"...Am I your hostage or do you have a point?" He dropped his hand back down to his side and bit back the urge to sigh. "Or did you just feel the need to make me bleed?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Seifer looked down the alley, toward the Usual Spot. Roxas followed his example. No Hayner. No Pence. No Ollette. Alone. "I've got a challenge for you, and 'no' can't be your answer."

"Thanks for the opt-out." Roxas shoved the hand off of him, coldness sinking into his skin from where the warm skin had been. "What is it?"

"Struggle. You. Me. One game." Seifer crossed his arms, head bowed down.

"For?" Roxas was waiting for the catch.

"I'll tell you when you lose."

"Then why would I want in?" Roxas felt uneasy under the boy's heavy stare. He shifted from one foot to the other, his hands jammed into his pockets for lack of anything better to do with his hands.

"Because if you win I won't smear Hayner into the ground for smashing up the foyer of the old mansion in the woods." There was a self-satisfied smirk on Seifer's lips that made the blood in Roxas' veins run cold. His heart skipped a beat, stomach clenched.

"...That's not fair." He balled his fists up again, blunt nails scraping his palms. Seifer laughed.

"I don't have to be fair." He shoved Roxas' shoulder, not even bothering to look smug when Roxas braced himself too hard against the expected pressure. "Tomorrow. Sandlot. After dark. Do we have a deal?"

"...Fine." Roxas felt his stomach sink as Seifer turned and walked away. He wasn't ready for this, no matter how hard Hayner had been training him.


Dusk had set on Twilight Town a second time, and Roxas stood in the empty Sandlot clutching his Struggle bat. His heart was pounding a rough, frightened and uneven tattoo in his chest. Slowly, he made his way onto the ring, his bag of marbles setting uneasily in his pocket. Only a few breaths later, Seifer appeared. He, too, was alone. His bat dangled from one hand menacingly.

"Ready to get stomped?" Seifer hopped up into the ring, swinging his bat over his shoulder, as if he had already won. Roxas crouched down, sick inside and more than ready to just be finished.

"Not if I can help it." He bristled at the sharp, loud laugh that assaulted him. Seifer was laughing. "Come on!" The laughter paused. Seifer took his position, too.

"One minute Struggle. Winner with the most marbles." He kicked the auto-switch to start the timer. "Go!"

Roxas lunged forward, aiming to connect with Seifer's stomach. He was blocked and sent reeling backward. He caught his balance in just enough time to dodge a swing aimed at his neck. He shouldered Seifer's side, catching two marbles on his way past. Only another ninety-eight to go.

A streak of white coat to his side let him know that he was about to be sent to the ground, and he jumped the blow that would have caught his knees. In the air, he pushed off the front of Seifer's shoulders, leaving two half footprints of dust on the white coat and knocking the larger boy to the ground. Four red marbles had spilled onto the ground. Roxas looked from the marbles to where Seifer was getting back to his feet and dove forward.

His bat connected with hip and thigh, aiming for pockets that would house the marbles. He felt the tip of his bat smack the pouch and tried to memorize where it had been. Pain crashed his thought process, ricocheting from the middle of his back to his legs and arms. Marbles flew, and he cursed.

Twenty seconds. Roxas rolled off his knees, scooping up as many of the marbles that had been scattered as he could. Seifer's bat connected with his arms and, when he didn't let go, his chin, spiraling him back once more. Ten seconds. Seifer had most of his marbles in his pocket. Desperately, he charged forward bat held like a ramming rod. The tip connected solidly with Seifer's exposed stomach, just as the buzzer sounded. He had lost.

Roxas threw his bat away from himself, frustrated and angry. Seifer laughed at him again, bent to one knee to catch his breath. Roxas clenched his fists until they hurt. It took everything in him not to rush forward and smash his knee into the smug face that was watching him.

"Owned you, lamer." Seifer crossed his arms over his chest as he stood, head held back. "Time to pay up." Roxas braced himself as a hand reached out toward him. It fisted in his shirt and yanked him forward. He stumbled over his own feet, landing against Seifer's solid weight. Cold, rough lips were pressed against his before he could push himself away.

Roxas felt his eyes widen, but saw no more than he had before. His vision was blurred from his close proximity to the other boy, a sea of black cloth and blonde hair and green eyes. He was stunned still, the pressure of Seifer's hands, now on his arms, grounding him. Seifer pulled back, his fingers tightening and pinching the cold flesh of Roxas' forearms.

"What the hell was that?" Roxas shook free from the hands and staggered backward. His lips still had a soft tickle from the touch. His head whipped around to check the Sandlot. They were still alone. No one had saw Seifer kiss him.

"I won." Seifer's self-satisfied smirk was infuriating. "I told you you'd know the stakes when you lost. And here we are." Roxas was silent. "You're mine for three hours." Seifer kicked the auto-timer again. Roxas clenched his teeth at the numbers. They had been pre-set. Seifer had known without a doubt that he would win. "Starting now."

"What if I refuse?" Roxas tried to judge the distance between himself and the exit closest to his home. Seifer knowingly stood dead center.

"Hayner gets stomped. And you'll be the one who could have spared him." Seifer turned, his coat cracking behind him. "Your choice. Either way, I'm not hanging around here for you to make up your mind, loser." Roxas stared after him, warring with himself. Pride or Hayner? His feet pounded the ground as he ran to catch up.

Roxas stared at the ground as they walked. Silence hung heavily over their heads, both too proud to break it. Roxas looked up when Seifer took an unexpected turn. They were headed toward the train station. Slightly alarmed, Roxas hesitated as they climbed the hill.

"Where are we-"

"Just shut up and follow me." Seifer turned again before they reached the top of the hill, into a dead-ended alley. "If I find any of your little friends here, I'll make you wish you never came to Twilight Town." Roxas chose not to mention that he had never lived anywhere else, watching Seifer shove a large crate out of the way instead. A small hole, large enough to crawl through, was smashed into the wall. Seifer bent to his knees and went through. Knowing he could run, but choosing not to, Roxas follow suit.

On the other side, ten minutes away, there was a ruins of a town Roxas had never known about. Buildings that looked similar to the ones in Twilight Town had been demolished into rubble, a few support walls still in place to hold up the memories of houses and shops. Cobblestones had been torn from the ground, no longer in a distinguishable path. A few had been tossed through windows, laying among shattered glass and deadwood windowpanes.

"What is this?" Roxas walked forward cautiously, examining a burnt picture frame that lay next to a close wall. The photo inside had been bubbled up and distorted from heat, blotting out the face of a blonde haired little boy. He glanced around when silence met him. Seifer was near the center of the destroyed town.

"This is where I was born." The flat of Seifer's palm rested against the brick of a mostly intact cathedral. Roxas felt something tug at him, somewhere deep inside. "I was too young to know what was happening when this place was attacked. You had probably just been born." Seifer looked over his shoulder at him. "Twilight Town took the refugees in, but there were only twenty survivors, if that." He shook his head. "No one remembers who did this. No one knows who attacked or who countered to save what few were saved."

"But how-" Roxas paused. "Why would no one remember?"

"Because they did it at night. No one saw anything." Seifer pushed away from the wall. "Just shadows."

Roxas couldn't help his stare as Seifer picked his way easily through the dark ruins. He knew this place as well as he knew Twilight Town. And he was sharing it.

Seifer was black spot against the inky sky. Roxas tripped and stumbled his way after him, no longer sure how to get back home. They ended up inside an old basement. A bare, lonely light bulb held all the light in the world, illuminating a dusty couch, a beaten bed. Two stained blankets had been tossed onto the floor in a heap, their faded colors telling their age. Upon closer inspection, Roxas could see black lines of burnt cloth on every piece of furniture. Seifer had scavenged through the old houses to fill this place.

Seifer sat on the bed, subdued. His arms rested on his knees, the muscles tense. Had it been anyone else, Roxas would have said he was nervous. As it was, Roxas stood awkwardly in the middle of the basement, uncomfortable and only a little scared now that they were completely alone and hidden away.

"I'm not gonna hit you again." Seifer was untying the laces of his boots casually, looking up at Roxas in a way that Roxas couldn't name. Had it been Hayner, he would have said reassurance. "Just... come here."

Roxas clenched his fists again. So, this was it. He took heavy, slow steps until he stood in front of the older boy, his body suddenly very, very cold. Seifer's hands, hands that had been on him violently millions of times before, were gentle on his hips to guide him forward. He flinched. Something to foreign passed over Seifer's face too quickly to be read.

Seifer's fingers were warm as they slid underneath his shirt, sliding over the skin of his stomach right over the waistband of his pants. Two hooked his belt loops and tugged until he knelt beside the mattress. Seifer kissed him again. Roxas closed his eyes. The raw patch on the inside of his mouth from where he had bit it two days ago ached fiercely as a warm, slick tongue ghosted across his lower lip, patient, waiting for consent that was forced.

Roxas, unable to do much else, kissed him back. There was an ill feeling in his chest, his mind stuck on overdrive. There was no way to back out and keep Hayner safe. No way to talk Seifer out of anything. And if he played along like a good boy, maybe there would be no repercussions. No way for Hayner to know what Roxas had done for his safety.

Seifer tilted Roxas' head back with two fingers. Throat bared, Roxas tried not to shake as teeth and lips and tongue touched his skin in ways that he had never experienced before. His shirt was pushed open and back, stuck around his wrists, pinning his arms behind him. His heart stuttered.

Seifer's warm mouth on his chest felt better than Roxas wanted to admit. His head hung shamefully. His knees were beginning to ache, and, from where he was sitting, he could see the telltale outline of Seifer's erection.

"Come up here." Seifer pushed his coat off and unbuttoned his vest. He was tan, the soft lines of his muscles visible through his warm skin. He wrapped his arms around Roxas' waist and guided him forward with minimal pressure. Roxas bit his lip against the feeling of skin on skin, eyes still closed.

For time longer than Roxas could keep track of, Seifer just touched him, silent. His fingertips slid from hairline to cheek to jaw to shoulder to hand. His eyes traced the curves and angles of Roxas' chest and hips. Roxas had almost relaxed against the solidness of Seifer's body, hoping that there would be no more than this.

"Just lay here. I'm not asking you to do anything else." Seifer rolled them over slowly, as if handing a feral animal, his fingers back on Roxas' stomach.

"Wha-" Roxas muffled his protest as the button of his pants was undone, a vision of Hayner quieting him. His pants and boxers were tugged down to the middle of his thighs, exposing him. He felt a blush spread across his body as he glanced at Seifer staring at him openly.

The mouth was on his stomach again, tongue trailing a cool wet line to his hip. Teeth sank into the soft skin there, the gentle tongue suddenly rough across the captured flesh. He was leaving a mark, a reminder. Roxas looked away, teeth clenched to fight against his shame.

The mouth slid lower, and Roxas choked out a gasp. He gripped the soft leather of Seifer's coat beneath him, trying to remember not to enjoy it. Seifer was petting his thighs, green eyes looking up at him in, had it been anyone else, affection as he worked his mouth with awkward enthusiasm.

Roxas' stomach clenched, a telltale sign of what was going to happen in only a few moments. He could feel tears welling up, just behind his eyes, but he refused to let them out. He had agreed to this, he had lost, and this was his punishment. And if he was liking it far more than he should? Another weakness of his heart.

Roxas' orgasm hit him hard, and his hands went to Seifer's head of their own violation, knocking the black hat off. His fingers tangled in blonde hair, pulling, trying to rid himself of his disgust, of his anger. Of his weakness. As soon as he could, Roxas rolled away from the other boy, yanking his pants back up.

"Roxas-" Seifer reached out a hand to touch Roxas' cheek, but the younger boy turned his head away.

Long moments later, Seifer had pulled his coat back on, his vest still abandoned on the bed. The outline of his erection had not faded, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he handed Roxas his shirt and put his boots back on.

Confused, but not upset about the sudden change, Roxas yanked the dirty shirt over his arms and buttoned it up. He followed Seifer back through the ruins of the town and, then, back into Twilight Town.

"Go home, Roxas." Seifer, his blonde hair falling into his face, turned toward the train station. "It wasn't worth it."

Roxas turned and ran, afraid that, if he didn't leave as soon as he could, Seifer would change his mind. When he reached the back alley, he fell to his knees and threw up.


Seifer walked through the ruins of his birth place, head bowed. His chest ached terribly and no amount of violence was going to take the ache away. The glint of a picture frame caught his eye. He brought his boot down on it, the glass that hadn't already been destroyed shattering. The photo broke apart, too fragile to take the abuse.

"Alone again, Seifer." He sank to the ground, head in his hands. Roxas had shoved him away for the last time. He wouldn't harm Hayner tomorrow, not in the coming week. He would hold to his promise. But, soon, Hayner would pay for taking Roxas away from him when they had been children. He would hurt, and Roxas would know why, and he would know what he would have to do in repentance. For some reason, the ache in his chest didn't go away.


A/N: In my world, Struggle is played with marbles. Why? Easier to explain than orbs.

A/N 2: So, I'm very anti Riku/Sora, very pro Seifer/Roxas. Fandom does not treat me well.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic