Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Maybe I'll See You Sometime ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

: Maybe I’ll See You Sometime
Music: The Leaving Song -AFI
Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom Hearts, Square Enix does.
Rating: M for sexual themes.
A/N: Stuck on THN, so I wrote a quick oneshot to relieve my stress, hope you like!

The pulsing beat of the dysfunctional techno music, combined with the overpowering smell of sex and alcohol made the club seem a bit more wild than it actually was. Bodies were shoved close, leaving no room for any sort of personal space. But then again, it was a strip club, and the words “personal space” had no business here. It was all about bodily contact with people you didn’t even know–that, and the possibility of good (or not so good) sex.

A handsome boy, seemingly too young to be in on the club scene, hung back from the crowd, against one wall where there were fewer people and less chance of being groped. He looked as if he could be one of the pole dancers that worked at the club, his body was tall and lean, muscular but not to much so. His emerald eyes had a predatory look in them, as if he were there for a purpose, and not there to relieve sexual tension like most of the other men in the room. He had long red hair, pulled back into a ponytail to keep it from getting in his face. Normally it would have been spiked up, gelled perfectly into a mane of beautiful scarlet locks, but it was raining outside, and the water had robbed his hair of any hold the gel had had.

Even so, the boy was stunning, and he got quite a few looks from those not busy watching the various forms of entertainment the club provided. He had had a few people try to engage him by offering to buy him a drink, or offering more outrageous and lewd services that could be carried out in the back alley, or in one of the rooms provided for such purposes. The red-head had declined them all with a Cheshire grin and a polite shake of his head. He was here for a reason, and it did not include bedding a stranger.
Finally, around the stroke of midnight, the music wound down to a slower pace, and the lights dimmed. A spotlight illuminated the stage, which was set in the middle of the room near the dance floor. The music stopped altogether, only to be replaced with a slightly exotic beat with a techno base. The spotlight changed into a soft orange as the performer made his entrance.

At this, the red head moved from his spot near the back until he was up against the stage, where he could see the performer clearly. It was a boy who looked even younger than him, barely legal, standing in the orange light with only a tight black shirt (if it could in truth be called a shirt) and even tighter black pants on his lithe body. The spotlight made the brown of his spiked hair look almost amber. He didn’t move at first, but as the music reached its highest point, he stepped forward with practiced timing onto the polished wooden planks of the stage.

The boy was graceful and catlike in his movements, his body seeming to meld with the slow exotic pace of the music. Several whistles came from within the audience, but they were quickly silenced by the surrounding spectators. The red-head didn’t even notice, as his eyes were glued to the boy in front of him.

The slow beat wound on for nearly a minute more, before it was replaced with a more upbeat song. The orange spotlight disappeared, and the flickering strobe lights resumed their seizure-inducing flash. The boy’s body suddenly had so much more contrast as he stepped forward to a pole in the middle of the stage. He turned his back to it, lifting his arms up and letting his hands caress over the smooth metal while he slowly dropped his body down…down…down…

And then he was up again, this time facing the pole, caressing it and hanging on it, dancing with it as if it were a person. Every so often he’d arch his back, and the whole time he had this look of utter arousal on his face, as if he were making love to the pole before him.

Money was thrown on the stage in waves, each toss of coin and paper followed by a catcall in hope of gaining the boy’s attention. No one cared about being quiet anymore; they only cared about possibly getting the boy away from his pole, to do those things to them, not to a cold metal rod.

The red-head was tempted to follow the crowd’s example and to throw his money to the dancer, but he knew better. He knew that wouldn’t catch the boy’s attention. Instead, he waited until the dancer had spun around the pole and was facing him, then he held up his money, with a look promising so much more.

But the boy only smiled and parted his mouth in a mimic of a small moan as he brought his legs close and rubbed his crotch up against the pole. He humped against the metal for a moment, and then wrapped his legs around it, letting his body bend backwards until his head was nearly touching the ground, the tips of his hair scraping against the polished wood. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a lean girlish body and a sexy stomach. The red-head licked his lips as the boy came back up, his shirt forgotten on the floor.

The dancer smirked, twirling to face away from him, as if to ignore him, but also giving him a choice view of his ass, perfectly defined by the tight black leather he was wearing. More whistles and yells came from the crowd, along with more money. This seemed to only spur the dancer on.

In time the boy left his post and began moving stealthily towards the edge of the stage. Several people reached out to grab at him, but he danced away from them easily, only giving them a smirk for their troubles. Many people held up handfuls of money, trying to attract the dancer’s eye, but the boy simply ignored them, that smile plastered to his lips.
Finally he came to a stop before the redhead, who still held his money out, though not as far as the others. Men jostled him to the side, trying to perk the dancer’s interest, but the boy ignored them and reached out to take the money from the red-head. Their heads came close, and their eyes locked.

The dancer crawled from his place on the stage and onto the floor, his hands all over the red-head, like they had been on the pole only minutes ago. The red-haired male closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.

“How far are you allowed to go?” he asked in a breathy whisper. The dancer gave him that same lewd smirk and pressed his crotch against his.

“You’re cute…” he murmured back. “Maybe I’ll see you sometime.”

And then he was gone, flitting back onto the stage with the money pressed safely in the waistband of his pants. The crowd pressed forward, shoving the red-head backwards as they desperately tried to get the dancer’s attention. The red-head only smiled to himself and stood where he was to watch the rest of the show. When the dancer retreated to the safety of the back room the music changed to its original techno beat. The crowd dispersed back to their respective dance floors and the red-head turned to leave, his mind repeating the words of the dancer: “Maybe I’ll see you sometime.”

“You’ re late Axel…” the professor growled. The red-haired boy stood up straight, his chest heaving from the exertion of running across the campus, up four flights of stairs, and to the classroom.

“I’m….sorry, sir…my….alarm clock….broke….and…”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Take a seat and try not to disturb anyone.” The professor turned his back to the class and went back to writing whatever formula he was currently teaching onto the whiteboard. Axel walked over to an empty seat in the back and collapsed, closing his eyes while a flash of white took over his vision.

When his breathing had finally returned to normal and his heart had calmed down, Axel focused his attention on the board. The professor was saying something about calculating the amount of friction exerted on an object while it was being pulled down over the side of a cliff by another object of twice its mass by first finding out the tension in the rope….
The rest became white noise. Axel knew he’d understand it better if he simply looked in the book. The professor wasn’t there to teach, he was there to try to impress other professors. It was that way with most of his classes. He only ever bothered to show up because his grade was partially based on attendance.

Axe’s mind wandered back to the events of the previous nights. He could still hear the breathy voice of the dancer in his ear, and the feel of his body pressed against him… It felt good, he had to admit. That had been his first time watching the dancer up close, the other times he’d hidden in the back, too afraid to try anything.

But last night…last night he’d taken a chance, and it had turned out so good. It was definitely worth the fifty dollars he’d lost. Hell, he’d pay five times that to feel that body pressed against him again, possibly under him.

“Maybe I’ll see you sometime.”

That voice sent a shiver down his spine. He’d have to go to the club again that night, to see the dancer again. He’d gone early his last few times, in a faint hope that he could catch the boy as he walked in, but it was in vain, the dancers had their own entrance. Still, it never hurt to try.

“How about you, Mr. Kashima?”

Axel blinked, focusing on the professor in the front of the class. His first instinct was to say “huh?” but he knew that would get him nowhere. He was already on thin ice for coming in late.

“Perhaps I need to repeat the question. How much does the second box weigh? If you were paying attention, you should know that easily.”

Axel cast his eyes over the board, taking in the long, drawn out equation quickly. “Um….forty-two kilograms.” he said slowly.

The professor pursed his lips before turning back to the board. “You’re right. Now…if the first box is 38 kilograms, how much….”

The professor faded off again to be replaced with the dancer’s voice.
“Maybe I’ll see you sometime.”

Axel returned to the club each night in an attempt to see the dancer again. Some nights he was there, and some nights he wasn’t, but each time he was, they had some sort of interaction. It might have been Axel’s imagination, but it seemed to him as if the dancer were favoring him. When he’d get off the stage, he almost always came to him, and Axel relished each touch.

But it was an expensive pastime, and soon Axel found he was running out of cash. One night, he showed up at the club’s door with only enough money to get himself inside. That night he waited at the stage until the dancer came out to do his routine. As he stalked toward the red-haired boy, he paused, crawling forward and his hands and knees.
“Have any cash?” he whispered, and Axel slowly shook his head. The dancer’s smirk faded slightly, but was soon replaced with a genuine smile. “Wait for me afterwards, in the back alley.” He leaned forward and left a hot kiss on his forehead before crawling off
to a patron holding up a hundred.

Axel’s heart sped up and he licked his lips, letting the crowd push him back from the stage. The dancer wanted him, even though he had no money. He wondered how far this would go, if it would mean just a friendly tease…or something more sexual. The burning in his forehead screamed the latter, and Axel could only find himself hoping it was true.
When the music died and the dancer moved backstage Axel made his way to the back exit. Once outside, he felt the biting cold of the night air and was very aware of the absence of noise. Every little sound seemed magnified without the constant bass thumping in his ears. From somewhere ahead of him, a car rushed by.

There was one couple, pressed into the back of the alley with hands all over each other. The taller man had his hands down the smeller’s pants, groping at a nicely shaped ass as hot tongues battled within hotter mouths. Axel licked his lips, wondering if the dancer wanted that, wanted to be like that…with him….

He jumped when he felt two arms wrap around his waist. The dancer turned him around slowly until their eyes met.

“Hey…” the younger boy said slowly. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Wh-why not?” Axel asked, unable to keep the quiver out of his voice.

The dancer only smiled and nodded toward the alley’s exit. “Come with me…”

Axel had no problems with following the younger boy out of the alley and to a small, beat up car. For all the glam put on inside the club, there was very little on his possessions outside of it. Truth be told, the little Toyota sitting in the parking lot was a piece of shit, and Axel was surprised when the engine roared to life.

They drove out of the parking lot and headed down the main highway, headed somewhere, though Axel knew not where. In any event, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the boy beside him. The soft glow of the streetlights made his skin look light and pale, creamy almost in the darkness. Unlike the harsh florescent lighting that changed constantly within the club, the calm everyday lighting made the dancer look so much more beautiful.

After a few minutes of silence, the younger boy seemed to notice the eyes on him. He turned to face Axel, without his characteristic grin.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this…” he started. After pausing a moment to pull a pack of cigarettes from a duffle bag next to the seat he continued. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Axel…” Axel interrupted. The boy looked at him strangely, then smiled.

“Most people I screw don’t give me their names. Keeps me from getting attached.”
“Can I have your name?”

“….It’s Sora,” the boy replied, lighting his cigarette and flicking the match out the window. “I don’t normally tell people, but then again, they never ask.”

Axel nodded, not taking his eyes off of the brunette beside him. Being this close, without the flashing strobes, he could make out things about Sora that he hadn’t been able to see at the club, like the deep blue of his eyes, and the perfect shape of his face. The body was the same though, that lithe form that had originally attracted Axel to him like an addict to a drug.

“You’re staring,” Sora commented. Axel blushed and looked away. “But that’s ok, most people do. I’m used to it.”

“What…exactly are we going to do tonight?” Axel asked, feeling the heat in his cheeks intensify.

“I was thinking eat cookies and have a pillow fight.” Sora replied, that smirk on his lips once more. “Or, if that’s too innocent, we could do something else…you aren’t a virgin are you?”

More blushing. “Um…yeah…I sorta am.”

“That’s alright, the virgins are cute.”

They pulled into a small hotel somewhere on the outskirts of town. Axel barely recognized the area. “Why…?” he started to ask, but Sora leaned over and kissed him gently, stalling all questions.

“I get a lot of stalkers…” he said. “It’s better if we just do this here. I’ll pay.”

They made their way into the hotel, bought a room, and then made their way upstairs. Axel found himself blushing more as Sora laid down on the single bed, his shirt riding up and giving him a teasing view of the taut stomach beneath.

“You ready for this?” Sora asked gently, reaching up and pulling Axel down onto the bed with him, Axel swallowed and crawled over the younger boy.

“Yeah…” he said softly. Then their lips met in a drawn out sensual kiss.

Making love to the dancer felt just like his occupation, a dance. Even though Axel was the aggressor, he felt so much like that pole in the middle of the stage. Each crash of the hips seemed to move in time with music that echoed only in his mind. The hot flesh pressed against his own felt like liquid fire, and his vision flashed white like strobe lights.
When he woke in the morning, there was no note, no notice of any kind, just an empty bed and the fifty bucks Axel had first given the dancer named Sora.

When he walked into class late, he said nothing to his professor. He just took his seat and heard those words in his mind once more.

“Maybe I’ll see you sometime.”

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So…..yeah….n ot much to say. Hope you like
Please R&R

-Koji