[Saiyuki] Water's edge (Hakkai/Gojyo, PG)
Title: Water's edge
Characters: Hakkai, Gojyo
Rating: PG
Notes: written for challenge #2 on saiyuki_time - prompt: unexplored territory. First time playing in this fandom, but definitely not the last! :D
He doesn't mean to look, of course. Doesn't mean to intrude on one Gojyo's rare moments of privacy, but somehow he finds his feet glued to the soft damp earth and his eyes affixed to the other man's body. Watches as he leans forward to pull his shirt over his head, long strands of scarlet hair disappearing in the wide collar to land in a tangled mass on his bare back. Trousers are next, nimble hands undoing the clasp of the worn leather belt, and that too falls in a heap at his side, over the discarded boots and socks. The headband is the last thing to go, and long bangs obscure Gojyo's face, covering his all-too-expressive eyes.
His movements are unhurried and careless, like Gojyo's stripping more than his clothes on the lake shore, and Hakkai feels his breath catch in his throat as he unconsciously takes a step backwards: there are still barriers he feels he's not quite meant to cross just yet, even when Gojyo's easy smiles seem to tell a different story during the day -this is dusk, a territory of half-lights and long shadows, after all-.
He watches as Gojyo walks to the water's edge, notices the thin white lines forming abstract patterns against the tanned skin. The geometry of damage, like Gojyo's led a hundred lives before he met him and Hakkai's only now discovering this after all this time shared together. He shouldn't be shocked, really, but the realization is sobering, and leaves him lost in thoughts even as Gojyo disappears in the water, rippling the surface as he sheds the day's grime and worries off: he makes it so easy to forget the battles they've just fought, fresh cuts discarded as unavoidable additions to the tableau. Impractical maybe, but Gojyo would say chicks dig scars or something of the sort, like any of them are anything but damaged goods anyway.
Too late he realizes he's still standing in plain sight of the half-youkai with senses attuned to detect intrusions far more unobtrusive than his own half-hearted attempts at staying in the shadows of the poplar trees surrounding the lake, and he wonders then, how much Gojyo allowed him to see, and how much was still a show put on for his own benefit. A small smile creeps on his lips then, one that reaches all the way to his eyes, and he thinks, maybe that's not so bad then.
And Gojyo steps out of the water then, the last rays of fading light sliding along the rivulets of water running down his body, encompassing the smooth skin and the jagged edges of old memories, and he scoops up the towel bunched up in Hakkai's arms like it's the most natural thing in the world. Ties it around his hips and lets it rest there, and for the first time Hakkai feels it's less of a posture and more of an invitation. After all, this is only the beginning of their journey..
Characters: Hakkai, Gojyo
Rating: PG
Notes: written for challenge #2 on saiyuki_time - prompt: unexplored territory. First time playing in this fandom, but definitely not the last! :D
He doesn't mean to look, of course. Doesn't mean to intrude on one Gojyo's rare moments of privacy, but somehow he finds his feet glued to the soft damp earth and his eyes affixed to the other man's body. Watches as he leans forward to pull his shirt over his head, long strands of scarlet hair disappearing in the wide collar to land in a tangled mass on his bare back. Trousers are next, nimble hands undoing the clasp of the worn leather belt, and that too falls in a heap at his side, over the discarded boots and socks. The headband is the last thing to go, and long bangs obscure Gojyo's face, covering his all-too-expressive eyes.
His movements are unhurried and careless, like Gojyo's stripping more than his clothes on the lake shore, and Hakkai feels his breath catch in his throat as he unconsciously takes a step backwards: there are still barriers he feels he's not quite meant to cross just yet, even when Gojyo's easy smiles seem to tell a different story during the day -this is dusk, a territory of half-lights and long shadows, after all-.
He watches as Gojyo walks to the water's edge, notices the thin white lines forming abstract patterns against the tanned skin. The geometry of damage, like Gojyo's led a hundred lives before he met him and Hakkai's only now discovering this after all this time shared together. He shouldn't be shocked, really, but the realization is sobering, and leaves him lost in thoughts even as Gojyo disappears in the water, rippling the surface as he sheds the day's grime and worries off: he makes it so easy to forget the battles they've just fought, fresh cuts discarded as unavoidable additions to the tableau. Impractical maybe, but Gojyo would say chicks dig scars or something of the sort, like any of them are anything but damaged goods anyway.
Too late he realizes he's still standing in plain sight of the half-youkai with senses attuned to detect intrusions far more unobtrusive than his own half-hearted attempts at staying in the shadows of the poplar trees surrounding the lake, and he wonders then, how much Gojyo allowed him to see, and how much was still a show put on for his own benefit. A small smile creeps on his lips then, one that reaches all the way to his eyes, and he thinks, maybe that's not so bad then.
And Gojyo steps out of the water then, the last rays of fading light sliding along the rivulets of water running down his body, encompassing the smooth skin and the jagged edges of old memories, and he scoops up the towel bunched up in Hakkai's arms like it's the most natural thing in the world. Ties it around his hips and lets it rest there, and for the first time Hakkai feels it's less of a posture and more of an invitation. After all, this is only the beginning of their journey..