Title: (Little) Death in the AfternoonAuthor: Cy FurSummary: "I thought the name was appropriate."Notes: Written for my cocktail challenge, and for my dear, dear friend. Contains prostitution. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters mentioned therein belong to their original creators. No profit will be made. There is a cliche that everyone knows, and that has been riffed on more times than a person can count; "Money can't buy happiness." There are many, many retorts to this, some of them witty, some of them less so. But the truth of the matter is, while money can't buy happiness, it can surely pave the way for it and put out the welcome mat. Roxas had money. It was a bit complicated, how he came about it - most of it had to do with his family, although nobody was entirely sure how that had come about either, to tell the truth. Anyway, it only really mattered to a certain class of person, and that class of person would never be invited to the right kind of parties. Theoretically, at least, Axel was part of that "certain class of person", although it was complicated - he had a lot of money himself, even if he was born into a legacy of debt. That was the trick of it, wasn't it? It wasn't about the money - or at least, not just the money. Money may not buy happiness, but it bought Axel's services, and at three thousand dollars an hour, Axel did bring a lot of happiness. At least, he assumed he did - Roxas was forever having him arrive at all hours of the night and day - Roxas was pretty much his only client, and he took Axel everywhere. Parties, movie premiers, even his family reunion, which earned them plenty of dirty looks, which grew all the dirtier the longer the night went on. But then again, how could any of those trust fund snobs approve of one of their own prancing about with such a low class man. Of course, Axel being Axel, he played it up, leaving his shirt unbuttoned and untucked, letting Roxas pull him into corners to exchange hungry, desperate kisses. And now, it was two in the afternoon, and Roxas was handing him a cocktail. "What is it?" Axel eyed the glass - it was some sort of white, milky liquid, and when Axel brought it up to his nose, he smelled champagne and something almost bitter, that hit the back of his sinuses and stayed there. It was almost like licorice, but stronger, more heady. "What does it look like?" Roxas sat on the couch next to Axel, more or less draping his thin body across the lanky redhead's. He was fiddling with the buttons of Axel's shirt, stroking the smooth skin between his nipples. "It looks like cum," Axel said, more to be crude than for any other reason. Might as well play up his reputation, right? "Did you cum in a glass and expect me to drink it? Because that costs extra." "How much extra?" Roxas sat up, looking curiously at Axel. He reached one hand up, running his thumb over the purple triangle tattooed under Axel's eye. "Five thousand," Axel said, making a number up off the top of his head. "And a medical note showing that you're disease free. Not from the family physician, either." "Don't you trust me not to have any kind of plague?" Roxas made an affronted face, glaring up at Axel. Axel just raised an eyebrow, and Roxas grinned. "It's not cum. It's called "Death in the Afternoon", and I thought it would make a good prelude to my plans." He straddled Axel, his knees on either side of Axel's hips, and held the drink more or less under Axel's nose. "What's in it?" Axel took a sip, letting the flavor sink into his tongue. There was the bright chime of licorice, and the sharp tone of some kind of white wine, bubbles fizzing in his mouth. "Absinthe and champagne," Roxas said airily, and his hands went to Axel's belt, beginning to undo it. "I'm going to issue you a challenge." "Yes? What kind of challenge will that be?" Axel took another sip, mulling over the flavor combination, attempting to sort it out. "I'm going to make you cum, and you are not going to spill a drop of that drink, or finish it before I finish you!" Roxas pressed close to Axel, until they were chest to chest, and kissed him, hard, fingers tangling in the spikes of Axel's red hair. Axel kissed him back, marveling, as always, at the way Roxas always managed to smell like he'd been out in the sunshine, and the way he tasted bright, like daffodils or lemons. He almost upset the champagne flute in his hands, until he pulled back, breathing heavily. "So what happens if I finish the drink before you make me cum? Or if I spill it?" "Then you can tie me up and do whatever you want with me." Roxas' face was serious. "And I'll keep you here for another three days." Axel mulled it over - that was an awful lot of money.... "And if you make me cum first?" Axel ruffled Roxas' hair, more to see the spikes go awry than anything else. "Then you have to stay here for a month. A paid month," Roxas added, seeing Axel about to say something. "But you'd be my... my live in." "Your live in whore?" Axel raised an eyebrow, mulling over what Roxas had said while keeping the look of lazy contentment plastered across his face. That would be a pretty good deal, although he wasn't sure - Roxas was possessive, and Axel did have a life outside of the job, however little he did talk about it. "My kept boy," Roxas said, and he was cupping Axel's cheek again, his hand moving up to tug on one of the spikes of Axel's hair. "... alright." Axel took another sip, feeling the burn of the absinthe down the back of his throat. "Do your worst." "You're not allowed to chug," Roxas warned, climbing off of Axel's knees to crouch between his thighs. "Or what?" Axel put one big hand on Roxas' head, squishing the spikes flat. "Or I'll kick you out," Roxas said easily, "and tell all of my friends to blacklist you." "Fair enough," Axel said, attempting to sound casual. That was the problem with Roxas. It was like he wanted to be Axel's lover, not his employer, until he decided that he wanted to be Axel's employer. It could really set a guy off balance. Roxas had his hands on Axel's hips, and his face was pressed into Axel's thigh, kissing up it through the fabric of Axel's pants. His tongue would dart out occasionally, leaving a wet spot, and Axel felt his cock stiffen, pressing against the zipper of his pants. He squirmed, trying not to press his knees together, and contented himself with taking another sip of his drink. "Why did you choose this particular drink? I've never heard of it before." Axel kept one hand on Roxas' head, looking down at the way he was kissing along Axel's thigh. "Because I thought it was appropriate." Roxas' hand was cupping Axel's cock through his pants now, rubbing along it, mouthing at the head in such a way as to make Axel's toes curl into the thick rug. "W-why? Because it looks like cum?" Axel leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily. He carefully loosened his grip on the champagne flute - it felt like he would crack it, if he wasn't careful. "Well, you know what they call orgasms in French...." Roxas pulled Axel's cock out, wrapping his hand around it, the wet head sliding against his palm. His hands were so big, compared to the rest of him - his hands and his feet. It was almost unnerving. "No. I don't." Axel took another sip, staring down at Roxas, who was pulling a condom out of the bowl he kept by the couch, sliding it carefully onto Axel's cock. It was funny, in its own way - Roxas, so offended at the idea of Axel wanting him to get tested, and yet refusing to do anything unprotected with Axel. Go figure. Then it became hard to hold on, because Roxas was doing... whatever it was that he did with his mouth, that always made Axel's toes curl and his breath hitch. It was all the more proof about all the things they said about private school boys, and how they could barely speak around each others dicks. Or maybe Roxas had just been as easy to get into bed then as he was now. Who knew. Certainly not Axel, especially when a hot, wet mouth seemed to be attempting to pull his every thought out of his brain by way of his cock. He drank more of his drink, mindful of not chugging it, and the burn of the alcohol mixed in with the fizz along his nerves, the pleasure that seemed to be bubbling under his skin. Roxas' mouth and hands were everywhere, it felt like, lips pressing wet kisses along the shaft of Axel's cock, fingers toying with Axel's balls, tongue flickering along the tip of Axel's cock. There was about a swallow's worth of alcohol left in the flute when Axel felt his orgasm galloping towards him. But, on impulse (no doubt aided by the absinthe making his whole body feel fuzzy), he kept the champagne flute on his knee, instead choosing to stare into Roxas' eyes as his back arched and his cock spat cum into the condom, leaving him shaking and gasping. Roxas was smirking in a way that seemed all the more obnoxious for how fucking cute the kid was, and he was climbing off of his knees, sitting in Axel's lap. When he kissed Axel, his lips tasted like cinnamon, and it took Axel a moment to realize that he had been using a flavored condom. "W-what do they call orgasms in French?" Axel put one shaking hand on Roxas' back, sliding his fingers under the hem of Roxas' shirt to gently pet the sweaty skin along his spine. "Le petit mort," Roxas said, plucking the glass out of Axel's hands and swallowing the last of the absinthe and champagne. "The little death."