Fic: Side-Line Symphony
Mar. 28th, 2011 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zenellyTitle: Side-Line Symphony
Pairing: Zemyx
Disclaimer: KH = NOT MINE.
Dedications: to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
prettypixiechan. Because she is my lovely beta. All other mistakes are my own.
Rating: PG-13 for boys dancing(?) and a little kissing, I don't even know.
Summary: “Told you I could teach you how to dance, Zexy!” Demyx shouted over the music, his voice a low buzz next to Zexion’s ear. Small sidestory to Pants 'R' Us
* * * * * *
Side-Line Symphony
* * * * * *
Music surrounded him, flaring and blaring, and he raised his hands to it like a sacrifice. Darkness coated his skin while flickering lights skimmed over him and the crowd around him, an endless and otiose chase. Held delicately between the first joints of his fingers, glow-sticks traced bright patterns in the air, a visual counterpoint to the beats sinking into his bloodstream. This. This was surprisingly comfortable. There was no embarrassment here in the dark, where faces and bodies blurred, where everyone was too caught up in the sinuous motions of the lights that encircled their wrists and played tag along their surface contours.
He closed his eyes, the bass in his sternum a second heartbeat.
His hands traced lazy and flowing patterns in the air as his hips swayed with the music, bowing with the ever-present beats. He followed the urging of the music and gave himself to it, letting his own name disappear to be replaced by the insistent and comforting thud-thud-thud-thud that infiltrated the very air he was breathing.
Arms slid along his hips, up his legs and torso, fingertips catching in the space where his shirt had ridden up over his low-slung jeans, digging a place for themselves under the hem of the jeans, sparking his nerves pleasurably. Another body fitted itself to his, slightly too tall but familiar, so familiar. Thought was lost in this place, and Zexion turned his head to nose along the side of Demyx’s neck, their lips grazing together languidly when they were close enough.
“Told you I could teach you how to dance, Zexy!” Demyx shouted over the music, his voice a low buzz next to Zexion’s ear.
Zexion turned around, grabbing Demyx by his hips and sliding his other hand into the sweat-slick hair at the base of Demyx’s neck and pulling him even closer, the movement of their bodies a side-line symphony to the larger chorus surrounding them. “No,” he yelled back, sardonic as always. “You taught me how to have sex in public. I don’t believe this is dancing. This is definitely sex with clothes on while bright lights are flashing and loud music is playing.”
Demyx’s grin was wide and lit in multitudinous colors, and his tongue flicked out to trace his ear as he murmured (or the equivalent to that, which was probably close to shouting in a place this loud), “But I believe that you can ‘drop it, drop it low’ now.”
At that, Zexion couldn’t help but turn and catch his lips in a hungry, scolding sort of kiss, biting the soft line of Demyx’s lower lip in a playful reprimand. He lost himself for a few moments in the movement of his body against Demyx’s, in the subtle chase and play of their tongues, in the taste of sweat and joy and something just Demyx that he found lingering on his lips when he finally pulled away. Demyx butted his nose against Zexion’s with a familiarity that made Zexion’s heart clench.
God, he had almost ruined this.
But Demyx, oblivious to Zexion’s thoughts, just laughed, low and wild, with the music and leaned into Zexion’s space, breathed into his ear, and Zexion... Zexion just wanted him to stay there, forever too close and exuberant, and so he closed his eyes again, bracing his forehead in the curve that connected Demyx’s shoulder and neck, an impotent and frustrated low whine unintentionally escaping his throat to be lost in the music around them.
“You’re thinking too much.”
Zexion opened his eyes, slowly pulling back to meet Demyx’s amused gaze. “So?”
The blond laughed, raising his hands from their position at Zexion’s hips (and he wanted them back there now, the hunger sharp and drying in its intensity. Any distance was too far) to gesture pointlessly, the glow-sticks around his wrists cutting bright swaths through the dark. “Just let go! Thinking isn’t the point of this music!” He turned Zexion around, back to front again, fitting himself like a second skin to Zexion’s back. And he restarted the slowing movements of their hips, guided Zexion’s hands in his own until there was nothing but the bass-beat heartbeat and the curl of their bodies. (Zexion was lost, his hands tracing intricate patterns he didn’t know.)
After songs and songs, after the swaying motion between them was more natural than breathing, Demyx leaned over his shoulder, lips whispering against his ear. “Do you recognize this song?”
(Zexion could name artists from Mozart to Demyx’s own band, but he couldn’t even recognize his own name at that moment.) “No?”
And Demyx only laughed, sang the words into Zexion’s ear, and, recognizing the song finally, Zexion laughed with him, threading their fingers together briefly around the glow-sticks already there.
“Oh, well I’m in. That means something, doesn’t it? Oh, won’t you dance with me a little bit?”
Softly, unheard beneath Demyx’s strong voice and the beat of the music, Zexion whispered along, “Oh, you don’t notice ‘cause the music’s too loud.” And he watched Demyx’s exhilaration, felt it in the whiplash-strong motion of his body, and he tucked a quiet secret, so lovely, so frightening it was painful, into his chest, holding it safe with his ribcage and lungs and heart until it spread through his entire body.
It was food for thought. Later. Now, though...
Now, the music swelled inside him, and he let himself be washed away by Demyx again, fingertips dancing familiar catch and chase games over skin and fabric, sweaty and wonderful and just them.
* * * * * *
Another thing written at 6 in the morning. Apparently, my vocabulary increases when I'm half asleep? Seriously. Props to me for using the words "swaths", "multitudinous", and "otiose" at 6 in the morning.
Pairing: Zemyx
Disclaimer: KH = NOT MINE.
Dedications: to
prettypixiechan. Because she is my lovely beta. All other mistakes are my own. Rating: PG-13 for boys dancing(?) and a little kissing, I don't even know.
Summary: “Told you I could teach you how to dance, Zexy!” Demyx shouted over the music, his voice a low buzz next to Zexion’s ear. Small sidestory to Pants 'R' Us
* * * * * *
Side-Line Symphony
* * * * * *
Music surrounded him, flaring and blaring, and he raised his hands to it like a sacrifice. Darkness coated his skin while flickering lights skimmed over him and the crowd around him, an endless and otiose chase. Held delicately between the first joints of his fingers, glow-sticks traced bright patterns in the air, a visual counterpoint to the beats sinking into his bloodstream. This. This was surprisingly comfortable. There was no embarrassment here in the dark, where faces and bodies blurred, where everyone was too caught up in the sinuous motions of the lights that encircled their wrists and played tag along their surface contours.
He closed his eyes, the bass in his sternum a second heartbeat.
His hands traced lazy and flowing patterns in the air as his hips swayed with the music, bowing with the ever-present beats. He followed the urging of the music and gave himself to it, letting his own name disappear to be replaced by the insistent and comforting thud-thud-thud-thud that infiltrated the very air he was breathing.
Arms slid along his hips, up his legs and torso, fingertips catching in the space where his shirt had ridden up over his low-slung jeans, digging a place for themselves under the hem of the jeans, sparking his nerves pleasurably. Another body fitted itself to his, slightly too tall but familiar, so familiar. Thought was lost in this place, and Zexion turned his head to nose along the side of Demyx’s neck, their lips grazing together languidly when they were close enough.
“Told you I could teach you how to dance, Zexy!” Demyx shouted over the music, his voice a low buzz next to Zexion’s ear.
Zexion turned around, grabbing Demyx by his hips and sliding his other hand into the sweat-slick hair at the base of Demyx’s neck and pulling him even closer, the movement of their bodies a side-line symphony to the larger chorus surrounding them. “No,” he yelled back, sardonic as always. “You taught me how to have sex in public. I don’t believe this is dancing. This is definitely sex with clothes on while bright lights are flashing and loud music is playing.”
Demyx’s grin was wide and lit in multitudinous colors, and his tongue flicked out to trace his ear as he murmured (or the equivalent to that, which was probably close to shouting in a place this loud), “But I believe that you can ‘drop it, drop it low’ now.”
At that, Zexion couldn’t help but turn and catch his lips in a hungry, scolding sort of kiss, biting the soft line of Demyx’s lower lip in a playful reprimand. He lost himself for a few moments in the movement of his body against Demyx’s, in the subtle chase and play of their tongues, in the taste of sweat and joy and something just Demyx that he found lingering on his lips when he finally pulled away. Demyx butted his nose against Zexion’s with a familiarity that made Zexion’s heart clench.
God, he had almost ruined this.
But Demyx, oblivious to Zexion’s thoughts, just laughed, low and wild, with the music and leaned into Zexion’s space, breathed into his ear, and Zexion... Zexion just wanted him to stay there, forever too close and exuberant, and so he closed his eyes again, bracing his forehead in the curve that connected Demyx’s shoulder and neck, an impotent and frustrated low whine unintentionally escaping his throat to be lost in the music around them.
“You’re thinking too much.”
Zexion opened his eyes, slowly pulling back to meet Demyx’s amused gaze. “So?”
The blond laughed, raising his hands from their position at Zexion’s hips (and he wanted them back there now, the hunger sharp and drying in its intensity. Any distance was too far) to gesture pointlessly, the glow-sticks around his wrists cutting bright swaths through the dark. “Just let go! Thinking isn’t the point of this music!” He turned Zexion around, back to front again, fitting himself like a second skin to Zexion’s back. And he restarted the slowing movements of their hips, guided Zexion’s hands in his own until there was nothing but the bass-beat heartbeat and the curl of their bodies. (Zexion was lost, his hands tracing intricate patterns he didn’t know.)
After songs and songs, after the swaying motion between them was more natural than breathing, Demyx leaned over his shoulder, lips whispering against his ear. “Do you recognize this song?”
(Zexion could name artists from Mozart to Demyx’s own band, but he couldn’t even recognize his own name at that moment.) “No?”
And Demyx only laughed, sang the words into Zexion’s ear, and, recognizing the song finally, Zexion laughed with him, threading their fingers together briefly around the glow-sticks already there.
“Oh, well I’m in. That means something, doesn’t it? Oh, won’t you dance with me a little bit?”
Softly, unheard beneath Demyx’s strong voice and the beat of the music, Zexion whispered along, “Oh, you don’t notice ‘cause the music’s too loud.” And he watched Demyx’s exhilaration, felt it in the whiplash-strong motion of his body, and he tucked a quiet secret, so lovely, so frightening it was painful, into his chest, holding it safe with his ribcage and lungs and heart until it spread through his entire body.
It was food for thought. Later. Now, though...
Now, the music swelled inside him, and he let himself be washed away by Demyx again, fingertips dancing familiar catch and chase games over skin and fabric, sweaty and wonderful and just them.
* * * * * *
Another thing written at 6 in the morning. Apparently, my vocabulary increases when I'm half asleep? Seriously. Props to me for using the words "swaths", "multitudinous", and "otiose" at 6 in the morning.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-03-28 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-28 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-28 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 04:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 02:22 am (UTC)there's something so sexy about being sweaty and sexin' on the dance floor with someone. Lovely detail! I LUBS IT!
no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 04:16 am (UTC)I know, right? Dance floor sexin's are the best. Thank you so much!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-02 07:20 am (UTC)I can barely spell my name at 6am. How can you even register such words at that time? XD
no subject
Date: 2011-05-02 07:35 am (UTC)I don't know, really. My sleeping mind seems to be able to work past my word filter easier. If I'm too awake, I start second-guessing myself.