Shorties

It was a rainy Tuesday when Roxy came to my office. Of all the gumshoe joints in Twilight Town, he chose mine, the seediest one, tucked into the back of a dark alley. I wondered how he had even found the place. He was petite, blond hair styled immaculately, and blue eyes wide with desperation. "Are you Detective Cendres?"

"Yeah, that's me. What can I do for you?" My eyes caught on his sharp, pinstriped suit, visible under his unbuttoned trench coat. There had to be good money, there, to buy those kinds of clothes.

"I found myself in a spot of trouble and I heard you could help me out." He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, inhaling the smoke as if it were a lifeline. It probably was.

"What kind of trouble?" I gave him another once-over, wondering what kind of trouble a cute kid like him could get into.

"Organization trouble." He stared me straight in the eyes, as if challenging me.

"I don't cross the Organization, kid. Find someone else." I stood to show him the way out, but he put a hand on my arm.

"They told me you were the only one that could."

"Maybe that's so. But I'm telling you I won't." I shook out of his grasp, but he moved to block the door.

"Someone's life is on the line!" Oh, those blue eyes were trouble. I could feel it.

"Ain't it always like that? You're talking about the Organization, here, kid." I snatched the cigarette from his lips. Took a drag of my own from it. "Aren't you young to be smoking these?"

He scowled. "My age doesn't factor in here. Look, will you please help me? Xion—Xion doesn't stand a chance with them!"

"Xion, that your girl? Sorry, kid, I don't wanna be held responsible for someone's life if things go south."

He gave me a hard stare. "No, I'm the one responsible." Then looked down at the floor. "It's my fault she got involved."

I crossed my arms. "That's gotta be a tough cross to bear."

His eyes snapped back up. "Look. Detective."

"Axel."

"What?"

"My name's Axel."

"Fine. Axel. Whatever. I can pay you. Whatever you want. I just need your help." He stuck his hand under his coat, reaching for something—I felt the automatic reaction of tightening muscles, too many years spent in the slums, expecting violence, but he only pulled out his wallet. "Look. She needs our help." He held the photo up, a delicate, dark-haired beauty with eyes that looked right through me.

I raised an eyebrow. "I ain't interested in your money, or your gal. Now if you're smart, you'll walk out that door and forget that girl ever existed." I pushed past him and pulled the door open.

I'd already propelled him halfway into the hallway when he turned to me, voice quiet. "She's not my girl. Just my best friend."

I paused, studying him. He was hesitant, biting his lip. That was almost enough to stop me from kicking him out of my office.

"I heard a rumor about you."

I cocked my head. "There's lots of those." I puffed at the cigarette. "Which one'd you hear?"

"Money isn't the only form of payment you take."

I laughed. Yeah, that was true. I half-hoped he knew that he knew the currency. "Well, I won't deny it. But, sweetheart, I don't think you're able to pay the other way."

He lifted his chin, voice coming out stronger. "Don't be so sure. I heard another rumor. That you like both." He didn't vocalize the word, it was dangerous to do it in the open, but I knew what he was implying.

I took a step back. Oh-o. "Do you?" If he offered me that, I wasn't sure I could refuse him. Even if it did mean tangling with the Organization. I looked him over again. That trench coat covered him effectively, but his face was one of an angel.

"No." His answer was confident, and it was the one I was expecting, but— "But I can pay."

I sighed, watching smoke curl in the air. It had been too much to hope for. "Get lost, kid."

"I'm not a kid." He was walking towards me again. "My name is Roxas." He closed the distance between us, a hand on my chest. Those eyes gazing up at me, a glint in them that I thought I recognized. His voice softened. "I'll show you."

I let him push me back into the office, the door snapping shut with an angry squeal of hinges. The deadbolt dropping in place.

The trench coat made it to the coat rack this time, and then Roxas was sliding his tie off, the pinstripe jacket on a free chair. "Let me show you," he grabbed my shirt front and pulled me down, lips meeting mine. Hesitant at first, then eager, teeth and tongue joining in the assault. A hand pressed against me, kneading through the fabric of my trousers. He propelled me back until I felt the desk against my legs, and we were both gasping. He pulled away, eyes intent on me. "I can pay. I want to."

"Okay," I breathed. Ran a hand over his shirtsleeves. Fine cotton, and beneath, the smooth slide of moving muscles. Our lips connected again, and it became a series of sensations. Fabric separating from skin. Hot fingers.

Roxas's mouth on me, everywhere. I was certain he was enjoying it, liked having me on his tongue. Realized he must've planned this, when he produced a small vial of oil. Realized he must know what he was doing, as he pressed a slick finger into me.

Realized I would be happy to tackle even the Organization as his cock slid in, teeth sinking into my shoulder. This kind of pleasure I would do anything for.

I was on the edge, scrabbling for purchase, but it was Roxas's hand around me that grounded me, stopped me short. Just on the edge of release, his hips still rocking against me in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Deep.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "not yet. You're not allowed."

"Roxy!" I hissed my frustration. "Let—let me—"

"Tell me you'll help me."

I gasped. "Fucking hell! Of course. I'll do it!"

The rhythm changed, punctuated by a grunt, and his hand moved, pumped out my release.

Later, once we'd caught our breath again, I pressed a hand to my face. "I'm a dead man."

Roxas's expression was even. "Only if you fail. I don't think you will."

I shot him a withering look. "Just in case. We should do it again. I'd like to die happy, yeah?"