|
Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds.
"I caught Goku eating mushrooms in the forest earlier." Hakkai sets down the
shopping bags he's carrying, then starts to unload the groceries he bought in
town. He puts most of them in the fridge, since the small bungalow they're
renting doesn't have many cupboards. At least, unoccupied ones; he's certain he
spotted a thin grey tail disappearing into one of them last night while he was
washing up the dinner plates. "I think he's high. He's outside by the pond,
talking to a tree... well, I say talking, but it's more like flirting from what
I could gather."
Hidden behind a newspaper in the armchair across the room, Sanzo snorts.
"Figures."
"Perhaps we should leave him for the time being," Hakkai suggests. "Let him get
it out of his system."
"What makes you think I was going to do anything about it anyway?" The newspaper
rustles.
"I see." Hakkai smiles to himself and slides a pack of tomatoes into the
vegetable tray. "Well, as long as he doesn't hurt himself too badly."
"The monkey's a clumsy idiot, but he won't die, if that's what you're worried
about." Hakkai hears the newspaper rustle again, followed by footsteps moving
across the floorboards, nearing the kitchen area. A moment later, Sanzo reaches
past Hakkai's shoulder and retrieves a cold can of beer from the fridge. It's
the last one and Hakkai is pretty sure Gojyo won't be too happy when he gets
back - he's been saving it.
"Oh, I wasn't that worried," Hakkai says. "I know how resilient Goku can be."
"Stubborn, more like."
Hakkai refrains from pointing out the richness of that statement, coming from
one of the most stubborn people he's ever known. Sanzo is standing directly
behind him and he doesn't trust that the monk is currently without his fan. Or
gun, for that matter. He's escaped both so far and he doesn't plan to start
getting hit now.
The ring pull snaps loudly, followed by quiet fizzing and popping as pressure is
released from the beer can. Hakkai fancies he can feel chill air on the back of
his neck as Sanzo moves behind him, no doubt raising the can to his lips. It
really is too hot out today, and decent ventilation in the bungalow is sadly
lacking.
"Oh, I don't know," says Hakkai, filling the space the beer previously occupied
with a bottle of soy sauce. "Goku's arguably the most stable of us all, in a
way." He laughs at that, to himself more than anything. It sounds absurd when he
says it out loud, but it's kind of true.
"How the hell do you figure that?" Sanzo sounds vaguely annoyed, but no more
than usual so Hakkai continues.
"Think about it. Out of us all, he's the only one who cannot remember his past.
The only thing Goku really worries about is you, and when his next meal is."
Sanzo remains silent, so Hakkai goes on.
"And really, he's much more open to sharing how he feels. Quite vocally. Quite
regularly."
"Hm." It's not an agreement, nor is it a dispute. Hakkai is oddly satisfied
about that.
"Out of us all," he repeats, "Goku is in some ways the free one. Whereas
we're... we're all prisoners of our own minds."
Whether Sanzo is pondering this or has already left the room, Hakkai isn't sure,
but it strikes him that they rarely speak of these things so daringly. After
all, Hakkai is dancing dangerously close to things he doesn't want to dredge up,
and he's pretty sure Sanzo doesn't either.
"You talk such bullshit sometimes."
Hakkai hears the beer can being settled down on a nearby countertop. Rising to
his feet, he closes the fridge door and turns around, just in time to see Sanzo
advance. He finds himself momentarily pushed backwards, up against the fridge
door. Hakkai's ready for it, though, and thrusts his hips out a fraction,
without even thinking twice. It's like a reflex, an automatic response.
They've come a long way since they started their journey, and not just in miles.
The plastic door behind him is cool, its chill seeping through his thin summer
shirt, but his attention is more focused on the heat of Sanzo's body in front,
solid and half-wanting from the feel of it.
"Gojyo could come back at any minute." It comes out sounding wrong; it's not
that he wants Sanzo to stop. They're way beyond the point of return now, in the
grand scheme of things. But he decidedly does not want Gojyo to find them
like this. There are some things Gojyo just does not need to see. Things Hakkai really doesn't need Gojyo to see.
The thought that this - these encounters - have become another, different type
of prison strikes Hakkai suddenly, and he bites his lower lip. But that's silly
- he pushes that thought away, blaming it on their recent topic of conversation.
The encounters are not binding. They're just a means to an end, just getting
off, because damn, travelling so far and living out of your own pocket for so
long winds a man up. When there's no release, tension starts to form, and with a
tight-knit group such as they are it's something Hakkai wants to avoid as much
as possible.
Anyway, the prison of the past, of painful long-standing memories, is enough for
anyone, and Hakkai deals with that particular prison in his nightmares.
"Are you kidding?" Sanzo says in a low tone, face so close his breath beats like
warm moth wings against the corner of Hakkai's mouth. It tastes sweet and
alcoholic. "He left the bar with two whores last night. That kappa slut
won't be back 'til late."
Sanzo has a point. Not about the kappa slut thing - after all, isn't what
they're doing the same thing? But Gojyo had looked like he had his hands full as
he left he pub the night before; he'd been none too sad about it, either,
judging by the wink he'd issued in Hakkai, Sanzo and Goku's direction before
strolling out the door, a woman draped off each arm.
"I suppose you're right." He's grateful he doesn't have to wade through multiple
layers of robes to get to Sanzo's trouser belt. The weather has been so high
lately none of them can face the thick travelling clothes they usually wear,
even during long stints on the road. In moments, Hakkai is pulling Sanzo's
leather belt out of its hoops and dropping it on the linoleum at their feet. It
lands with a dull clatter that neither of them pay any attention to. As Hakkai
pops open Sanzo's top button and draws down the zip, the monk sucks in a breath.
It sounds so loud in the silent heat of the dusty bungalow.
It's nothing but them, now. Just them, and rising tension and want.
Something in the pit of Hakkai's stomach tenses with anticipation as he pushes
his fingers down into the encompassing warmth of Sanzo's denims, finding smooth
firmness already damp and fully erect. His own cock twitches, instinctively
wanting a reciprocal touch.
It doesn't bother him that Sanzo closes his eyes and keeps them shut, as he
fumbles with Hakkai's shirt, pulling it up and out of the way so he can access
his fly. Fingers brush delicately against Hakkai's navel and his stomach muscles
jump automatically. He can't hold back a helpless squirm and a little, light
laugh.
Sanzo merely tuts, his brows drawn together in a slight frown. It's not much
different from how he normally looks, only more pronounced this close, more
detailed. Hakkai would never admit it out loud, but he's always found Sanzo's
face quite interesting: his pretty eyes set above a firm bone structure and jaw,
his mouth able to look cruel one moment and sinfully soft a split second later.
The man really is striking sometimes. His lashes flutter briefly, like licks of
gold over pale marble; Hakkai is mesmerised by the way they move as Sanzo's
frown deepens, as he finds Hakkai's cock with his fingers and wraps them around
it.
It's Hakkai's turn to hiss a breath, expelling it through clenched teeth. When
Sanzo squeezes, just on the right side of pain, all thoughts lose to feeling and
everything goes blissfully, violently south all of a sudden.
There's no conscious decision to draw his fist up the length of Sanzo's erection
and rub around the head; it's a familiar move and never fails to pull helpless
moans from the monk's throat. Hakkai smooths moisture gathered at the tip of
Sanzo's cock all the way down his shaft, feeding the rapid pulse of the other
man's want. The moans get faster, grow more desperate.
Soon the element of power and satisfaction becomes overruled by Hakkai's own
lust - for more friction, more strokes, more of Sanzo's skin, more of anything,
everything...
Sanzo curses quietly, the sound a rumbling vibration against Hakkai's chest and
utterly filthy in its tone. Normally Hakkai isn't a fan of coarse language, but
at times like these, when they're issuing forth in Sanzo's breathless sex voice,
spoken in such a way that the hairs on the back of Hakkai's neck rise and a
shiver snakes down his spine, he can deal with it.
Hakkai slides his fist down to the base of Sanzo's cock, then below, to rub his
balls a little, then back up. Slow and hard, that's how Sanzo wants it. Always.
At the same time Hakkai thrusts himself against Sanzo's sweaty palm and hisses
at the sensation. It's impossible not to roll his hips just so, to pump
harder into the perfect circle of Sanzo's fingers. As awkward as it is standing
against a fridge in a too-hot room, with a drugged Goku wandering around outside
and the chance that Gojyo will return at any given moment, there is nothing like
the firm touch of another. Nothing.
Hakkai lets his head fall back and it smacks against the fridge door. He doesn't
feel pain, though, with all his attention pooled on his dick, on the hand
gripping him and adding the slightest twist and - ohhh - pulling him closer and
closer still. His stomach and groin are wound up tight like a spring, heading
fast towards breaking point - he's so full, so much want but he wants to hold on
a bit longer and savour it, but God it's better and more.
"More... please, more..."
Torn between release and frustration, Hakkai arches his back, his legs starting
to buckle under his own weight and Sanzo half leaning against him.
When Sanzo curses a hot "Fucking fuck!" against his mouth Hakkai surges
forward and comes in long, hard bursts of pure, brilliant white, rapidly pumping
into Sanzo's incredible, tight fist, all his built up tension wiping him out on
release, rushing him like an endless, crushing avalanche...
Through the blissful shockwaves he is aware of more curses, hushed and dirty and
close to his mouth. Wet heat beats into his fingers and up his wrist, pulse
after pulse. The moans he hears could be his or Sanzo's; or maybe both. He
doesn't really care.
The descent is slow and winding. His muscles relax little by little. His breath
becomes easier to catch. His thoughts remain fluid and unimportant. Hakkai
swallows thickly and straightens up, blinking sweat out of his eyes. Sanzo has
already stepped back a pace and is unceremoniously wiping his hand on a square
of cheap kitchen towel.
Ignoring the slick heat in his boxers and on his own fingers and wrist, Hakkai
re-buttons his trousers.
"It's too fucking hot," Sanzo mumbles, looking away as he does up his own fly.
"I hate the summer."
"Hm, I like springtime." Hakkai looks up. "But at least summer is better than
the rainy season."
"... whatever."
Breath is caught and clothes are back on in seconds; and things slip so easily
back into their original place. Hakkai goes to the sink to wash his hands and
fill a glass of cold water. "I seem to be in a bit of a mess," he remarks,
before taking a deep, satisfying drink. "I think I'll go and have a shower."
When he looks over his shoulder, Sanzo is heading across the room towards the
bungalow's sleeping quarters.
"See you..."
And that's that. Hakkai strolls to the bathroom and turns on the shower. The
water is also cold in here, and no matter how long he runs it that doesn't
change. In the end, he steps in and slides under the showerhead, letting out a
gasp and a riotous shiver as the cool spray hits his face and bare shoulders. It
feels incredible. He leisurely picks dirt out from under his fingernails, scrubs
at his wrists and then runs his fingertips over the spot where - at one point -
he'd felt Sanzo's mouth briefly meet his neck. There, he scratches for a moment,
then lets his lips curve ever so slightly.
When Hakkai returns to the living room, nobody is around. The place is totally
silent.
But when he peers out the window, he's just in time to see a familiar shock of
red hair in the distance as Gojyo strolls towards the bungalow.
Then he spots Sanzo across the road, yelling as he drags a soggy, spluttering
Goku out of the nearby pond.
Hakkai thinks to himself that if it ever gets to the point where this all
becomes a form of prison, he really can't complain too much.
~Fin~
|