The Hanyou's Prayer (4/4)
Hooray! I finished before I have to work on all kinds of family-related Thanksgiving stuff! (Like pie. I'm scheduled to make five or six pies tomorrow. @_@ )
Fun fact: this chapter marks the first occasion I've had to try out the adult content filter on lj. XD It's kind of significantly longer than the other three parts...in fact, it is nearly as long as the first three put together.
And now, the down and dirty on the story:
Title: The Hanyou's Prayer
Summary: Gojyo has a bit of an accident and has to live with the life-altering consequences.
Notes: The fourth chapter is at least a hard R-rating; alternate reality taking place in and branching off from the canon universe; sex between Gojyo and Hakkai; swearing and canon-appropriate violence; present tense and gratuitous use of italics.
Previous three parts found here, on the master index.
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As a final warning to those who are not prepared: this final chapter contains some explicit m/m sex. If you don't care for it, kindly avert your eyes.
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At first for hours, then by days and weeks, Gojyo counts the time since his transformation. He wears his body like it's uncomfortable clothes, too stiff in the knees and chafing at the neck, never entirely convinced of who he now is. Hakkai's words-It felt like everything in the world was different; the only thing that had changed was me-haunt him.
The four of them travel the land, wandering back and forth, and Gojyo looks all the while for a way to turn back time to the point where things still made sense. On afternoons where the road goes on too long, and the sun beats down hard, squashing the conversation out of all of them, Gojyo finds himself mouthing along to the litany in his head. Hakkai's words transform over time-the only thing that has changed is me. He struggles along under the weight of those half-realized words. They begin to sound like the truth.
Still, every time they come to a monastery or an ascetic somewhere in the back hills, Gojyo's hopes rise. He knows Sanzo is making inquiries, though the monk takes pains to hide it. Nothing ever comes of it. Gojyo can tell this by the way Sanzo carries himself, how he takes his time coming back from questioning this or that head monk or from a visit to what passes for the records room or library of wherever they find themselves. It goes the same every time, and every time Sanzo holds himself just a little less erect. Gojyo knows it's costing Sanzo to do this for him, that the price of the free information is Sanzo's pride. And as much as Gojyo may or may not like the guy, it isn't right to let Sanzo keep doing this. Some days it seems like all Sanzo has is his pride.
Gojyo corners him, late one night after Hakkai and Goku have already retired to their borrowed cells in the latest of a long string of monasteries. He surprises Sanzo outside the library. Gojyo boxes him in between the solid walls of the hallway and the length of his body: it's plenty enough to stop Sanzo in his tracks. Sanzo's face tightens into a frown.
"What are you doing here?" says Sanzo.
"You don't have to keep doing this," says Gojyo. "Even I can tell it's eating you up. Pretty soon even Goku's gonna notice."
He speaks soft, easy, low. No sense in disturbing anyone else who might be up at this hour. He knows Sanzo can hear him.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," says Sanzo. "Now get out of my way before I shoot you."
Gojyo doesn't move and Sanzo doesn't back down from his threat. He pulls the gun from the sleeve of his robes.
"I mean it, Sanzo," says Gojyo. "It's not worth it. I'm not worth it. Fuck, man, I'm just one guy who's had some phenomenally bad luck."
Sanzo stares at him. This close, Gojyo can see every feathering crows-feet wrinkle he has, every line that's beginning to etch itself at the corners of his mouth. There are a lot. Gojyo notes the dark shadows under those brilliantly clear eyes, dark shadows that sleep doesn't seem to erase, shadows that persist, day after day.
"Tell me you don't actually believe the crap you're spouting," says Sanzo.
He digs the muzzle of the gun into Gojyo's chest. Gojyo remembers, vividly, that Sanzo has shot him before, in that exact same spot. He exhales. Sanzo's finger is steady on the trigger.
"The more you dig around, the shittier I feel," says Gojyo. "About all of it. It's just…easier if you stop. And that's the truth whether you shoot me or not."
"I'll do whatever I damn well please," says Sanzo.
Sanzo cocks the gun. Gojyo feels the start of sweat at his temples.
"Leave me out of it," says Gojyo. "Hell, leave me behind, for all I care. My head's not in the game and you know it."
"And here I was thinking that Hakkai was the self-sacrificing moron," says Sanzo.
He says this almost conversationally, but Gojyo is still pleased when Sanzo eases back and puts up his gun.
"My research has nothing to do with you and your pathetic whining," says Sanzo. "Consider this little conversation of ours a friendly warning. Next time, I shoot."
When Gojyo inhales, he can still feel the weight of the gun on his chest. He nods slowly and moves aside so Sanzo can leave.
"One more thing," says Sanzo. "What you do on your own time is your business. But when we're in a fight…"
"Yeah?" says Gojyo.
Sanzo is quiet for a minute. He gets out a cigarette and lights it, obviously choosing his words with care.
"I don't want you being distracted and getting us all killed," says Sanzo. "So do what you have to do, or I swear I'll kill you first and find someone else to take your place on our little road trip."
Sanzo plays the hard-ass all too well, lambasting him like this. Gojyo grins hard, recognizing concern when he sees it, even if it is dressed with sarcasm and scorn. Sanzo would never be able to find another person to join their four-man crusade, if he were to kill Gojyo for real. They're stuck with each other.
Sanzo sniffs and brushes past him. Gojyo is too busy trying not to hurt himself holding back his laughter to notice Sanzo's fan heading for the back of his head. Crack.
"Oww," says Gojyo. "Bastard."
Sanzo makes no reply, but simply walks away, leaving Gojyo rubbing the sting out of his scalp.
After that, Gojyo doesn't know whether or not Sanzo stops researching or merely becomes more circumspect about it. It doesn't really matter, though: as long as Gojyo can believe Sanzo has stopped, he is content. Without the constant reminder that something is wrong with him, he starts to settle into himself. He takes little notice of his limiter now, though that has partly to do with his state of mind and partly to do with the habit he's developed of wearing long sleeves. Gojyo promises himself that this is a temporary change, especially on the all-too-many days where it's so hot that all conversation, all movement within the jeep comes to a halt and everything's quiet, save the occasional chirp of Hakuryuu.
They keep heading west, always to the west, going through dry spells where they don't see other living creatures for days-weeks if you don't count the frequent youkai attacks- and every night the sun drops suddenly below the earth, leaving them to make camp in the remains of the daylight and the dusty light of the jeep's headlights. Sometimes, an electricity vibrates between the four of them, silent and unseen but as real as anything else, and Hakkai coaxes Hakuryuu to drive himself at night. They all roll onward under the star-spattered night sky, falling asleep in their seats and waking just before the dawn in unfamiliar-but-more-of-the-same territories.
There are towns out there, too, scattered, never showing up on the all but useless map. Every time they crest a hill and come upon houses, it's a cause for silent celebration. It's a chance to stop and rest, to buy supplies, a hot meal and, if Sanzo's in a good mood-or a really rotten one because he's wounded from one fight or another and is unable to protest Hakkai's usurping the credit card-they might even purchase rooms for a night or two.
Alone, behind the safely locked doors of those infrequent rooms, Gojyo takes off his limiter. He locks himself in, locks everyone else out, just in case, and checks and double checks the doors before he takes off the bronze bracelet that is his silent companion. Inn by inn, hour by hour by stolen minute, he gets used to the person he is beneath his hanyou skin. With his limiter set safely aside, Gojyo tries to reconcile himself with the truth. He gets practice at sudden transformations, can be there and back in five minutes because at first that's all he allows himself. He's too afraid of anything more, afraid he'll snap and go bad, afraid he'll hate himself even more the longer he looks at his inhuman skin.
He's afraid he'll find out he likes being a youkai.
Gojyo becomes resigned to the idea of it, to this body and its ridiculously heightened senses. He hardens himself against the shock of hair-claws-sight-heartbeat-youkai-heartbeat-scent-claws. After hundreds of minutes, secreted away by the handful in these anonymous rooms, he becomes numb to the horror and surprise, and the way all the blood rushes through his head and leaves him dizzy for the first couple minutes doesn't bother him, is merely a fact of his existence. Gojyo spends longer stretches without the suppressing limiter fastened around his wrist, and to his relief, nothing bad happens. He decides that living this life behind closed doors, an hour at a time, is more than enough.
More weeks pass, and Gojyo adjusts. He is inured.
Gojyo opens the door to the room, beyond happy to see a real bed for the first time in a long time. Too bad the inn only had two rooms available, but he and Hakkai are more than capable of sharing the space. Hakkai's out shopping already with Hakuryuu in tow, though, so Gojyo has two packs in his hands, one his and the other Hakkai's. It's only fair, or so Hakkai had said when they'd disembarked at the inn's front steps.
Gojyo drops Hakkai's bag at the foot of the bed closest to the door and dumps the contents of his own pack onto the remaining bed. He does a quick sort-through of the laundry, shoves the dirties off the bed, and the rest he crams back in every which way. He kicks off his boots and uses the half-filled bag as a pillow, laying himself out across the bed. It's probably the best feeling in the world-a real bed is heaven after being stuck in the jeep for so long and sleeping on top of the lumpiest ground yet between Chang An and whatever the fuck podunk town they're in now.
He lights himself a cigarette and smokes it quickly, mindful of how much time has passed since he parted company with Hakkai. Gojyo knows he's got plenty of time before anyone comes looking for him, but still… He crosses the room, locks the door, and deposits the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray at the side of the bed. He draws the curtain across the lone window.
Gojyo lays back down on his bed, takes a deep breath, and unfastens his limiter. He drops it beside the ashtray.
Dizzily, he counts in his head, waiting for his senses to stop bombarding him with information. Everything's too sharp and clear, and it's like he can see and hear and smell and taste everything in creation all at once. Soon, thought the vertigo fades away and the crush of overwhelming sensations leaves as well. Gojyo sits up, mindful not to dig his claws into the bedclothes for balance. He's left more than his share of accidentally-shredded sheets behind, and he likes to think he can do better than that these days. He brushes the hair back out of his face and wonders, for the millionth time, why taking off the limiter makes his hair grow at least two feet. It's fucking ridiculous.
Gojyo fishes out another cigarette, lights it, and catches the butt between his teeth. He's careful not to hook his lip with a claw in the process-again, painful experience behind the logic in that. He smokes this one a little more slowly, savoring the subtle differences in taste. Except for the lack of impact the nicotine has on his youkai form, smoking is one activity that's more or less the same, and Gojyo clings to that same-ness. It's one of the things that helps him convince himself that he's still the same person.
Crushing his cigarette out in the ashtray, Gojyo hesitates. What to do next? He paces around the room, already bored out of his skull.
"Heh," he says. "'Not like I can just mosey on downstairs to the bar."
It's a useless exercise, this, when he's got nothing to do except walk around the room and be. He should have planned this better, bought some booze downstairs or something. Gojyo shrugs. He looks around the room a little more. There's the bedside table, stationed between the two beds. There's also a rickety sort of sitting-down-at table on the wall opposite, with two mismatched chairs. There's nothing else for furniture and nothing at all of interest in the room. Even the faint stains on the floor and walls are perfectly ordinary, the kind of stains that all well-used rooms acquire over time. Gojyo thumbs the deck of cards in his pocket thoughtfully.
"Solitaire it is," he says.
He stops pacing and pulls out one of the chairs at the table, sitting down backward in it. He folds his arms over the back of the chair and rests his chin on top. He gets out his pack of cigarettes and his playing cards. Gojyo realizes he didn't bring the ashtray over with him, and while he himself doesn't mind dirtying the top of the table, he knows Hakkai will have a fit-a silent but wholly effective fit-and Gojyo will be in the doghouse for days. So he heaves himself up again and gets the ashtray.
A sound out in the hall catches his ear; footsteps, light and even, and the rustle of bags of supplies. Gojyo instinctively knows it's Hakkai. The doorknob rattles, and there's a sigh from the other side of the door.
"Gojyo," says Hakkai. "Can you get the door? I'm afraid my hands are rather full."
Years of Hakkai's influence override Gojyo's body and he finds himself moving to the door, unlocking, and opening it. Hakkai looks a bit overwhelmed: his arms are overly full, some bags already starting to squeeze out of his grasp. Gojyo reaches to help.
"Sorry," says Gojyo. "Here, I can take some of that."
"Thank you, I-" says Hakkai.
The veneer of calm on Hakkai's face slips. His face goes pale, and Gojyo realizes all in a rush that he's forgotten to put his limiter back on. Hakkai drops the bags. The ashtray Gojyo has been holding thumps to the floor. Gojyo's face flushes with horror, and Hakkai pastes on his most polite, most fake smile.
"Oh," says Hakkai. "Please excuse me."
He turns away as if to leave, but Gojyo drags him inside the room, fueled by a panicked strength. He kicks the door shut behind them. His heart is beating too fast and his breath rushes in and out, in and out, loud and scared. He forcibly seats Hakkai on the nearest bed.
"I'm sorry," says Gojyo. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. Just, ah, let me, you know…"
He lets go of Hakkai to gesture to the limiter, still on the bedside table, and notices that his claws have blood on them. He looks at Hakkai, who is, in turn, looking up at him, and fairly calmly, considering the situation. His arm is bleeding, as are his shoulders where Gojyo's clawed hands had lain. Gojyo flinches like someone's punched him.
"Shit," he says. "Shit, I'm sorry."
He attempts to wipe Hakkai's blood off onto his jeans and instead manages to gouge his leg. The coppery scent of blood rises in the air, and the hairs on the back of Gojyo's neck stand up. Some strong, unnamed instinct rises in him, and he's absolutely petrified of it. His vision narrows and he dashes for the nightstand. Gojyo is aware of some noise, aware of Hakkai speaking, but he can't make out the words. He fumbles the limiter into his hand and struggles to get it on because his stupid fucking claws are in the fucking way.
Too slowly for his own comfort, he finally slaps the bracelet around his wrist. Things get a little wobbly around the edges then, and Gojyo slides gracelessly to the floor, resting his back against the side of the bed. He glances down at his fingers. They're back to normal, though the tips of them still have a scrim of blood drying on them, in the nail beds and under the nail. His fingerprints are already rusty-colored and dry. Gojyo concentrates hard on taking deep breaths of air.
"Gojyo?" says Hakkai. "Are you all right?"
Gojyo nods as he scrubs his fingers on his shirt. There's a cold, trickly sensation on his leg. He looks down. Shit. He's bleeding from where he clawed himself. He notes distantly that his pants are going to need some serious repairs if he ever wants to wear them again. He stretches the leg cautiously. Gojyo hisses in pain, the his breath shaping itself around his clenched teeth.
"Gojyo?" says Hakkai. "I'm going to come around and have a look at you, all right?"
Gojyo realizes Hakkai's using his soft voice, his ridiculously soft, soothing voice meant for unwilling, scared people in need of healing, and Gojyo's almost insulted because he doesn't need coddling, dammit, but his leg hurts like fuck-all.
"Yeah," says Gojyo. "Got myself pretty good, I think."
Hakkai comes and sits on the floor across from him, and again Gojyo notices that Hakkai's bleeding. He feels horrible all over again.
"I'm so sorry," says Gojyo. "I just…I really didn't mean…"
"I understand," says Hakkai. "I'm fine. They're barely scratches."
Hakkai carefully explores the wound on Gojyo's leg. Gojyo tries not to move.
"If anything, it's my fault," says Hakkai.
"Huh?" says Gojyo. "But I'm the one who…"
"I surprised you," says Hakkai. "I'm sorry. If I had had any idea that you were, well…"
"Letting it all hang out?" says Gojyo.
It should have been funny-at least, it had sounded funny in his head-but no one is laughing. Gojyo bites the inside of his cheek as Hakkai starts healing him up. It's a fiercely itchy sensation, and he fists his hands at his sides against the urge to scratch.
"If I'd known you were exploring your youkai side," says Hakkai.
He sighs and shakes his head.
"It's not easy, is it?" he says. "I can't believe you'd take this on by yourself."
Gojyo is quiet. He watches Hakkai working, the light of his qi strong and unwavering. Hakkai sounds a little troubled.
"It's really very courageous of you," he says. "Though I'd thought…"
Hakkai stops talking for a minute, looking like he's a million miles away, though he continues to knit together Gojyo's flesh without visible effort.
"What?" says Gojyo. "What else was I supposed to do?"
Hakkai looks up at him, face serious.
"I'd hoped you might come to me," says Hakkai.
Gojyo is flabbergasted. He actually feels his jaw drop and, honestly, that's never happened to him before. His thoughts stutter.
"But! You never even said anything," says Gojyo.
"I didn't want you to feel pressured," says Hakkai. "There. All finished."
He pats Gojyo's leg and it's good as new, as far as Gojyo can tell.
"Thanks," says Gojyo. "But you should take care of yourself first next time."
Hakkai blinks, nonplussed. Gojyo blinks, too, processing, trying to figure out what wrong now.
"Er," says Gojyo. "Not that there's going to be a next time."
"Oh," says Hakkai.
He gets up off the floor and waits with an air of expectance, though he doesn't look Gojyo directly in the eyes but rather at a fixed point somewhere above and to the right of Gojyo's shoulder.
"It's simple," says Gojyo. "I'm not going to take off my limiter, not ever again. Limiter on equals no accidents."
Gojyo stretches, then gets off the floor as well. Hakkai stares at him. He's got one hand glowing, healing his arm. He sighs and starts on a shoulder. Gojyo can't look any more at the damage he's done, and so he instead tries to pick the blood out from his fingernails.
"Being a youkai," says Hakkai. "It's what you are, Gojyo."
"I almost killed you," says Gojyo. "And if I can do that to you…"
He stops mid-sentence, too wrapped up in his own little slice of hell to finish the thought aloud.
"No, you didn't," says Hakkai. "And you wouldn't have, either. I can take care of myself."
Gojyo just about jumps out of his skin when Hakkai wraps his hands around Gojyo's. He tugs, experimentally, but Hakkai doesn't let go. The torn thigh of his jeans feels tacky as he shifts in place. Hakkai smiles sharply at him. Sometimes it's easy to forget that he's is just as strong as the rest of them, as mild-mannered as he often is. Gojyo finds himself suddenly fascinated with that duality. His anxiety blunts itself on these thoughts and he gains some relief from it.
"Yeah, yeah," says Gojyo. "You've made your point. You could pound me into the ground if you wanted."
Hakkai nods and releases him.
"If I felt the need to defend myself, I would," says Hakkai.
"But you'd fix me up after, right?" says Gojyo. "After all, what's a little harmless pounding between friends?"
He and Goku squabble and scrap all the time, but Goku isn't anything like Hakkai. Gojyo wonders whether or not such a fight would harm their friendship. It's hard to tell how Hakkai takes things, sometimes. And then it occurs to him how what he's said about, er, fighting -and it was totally not pervy in his head-might sound to Hakkai.
Gojyo can feel a sheepish, embarrassed grin taking over his face. A quick look at Hakkai shows that he's really put his foot in it this time: the other man is standing stiffer than a statue, and he's got the weirdest expression on his face. Obviously Gojyo's fucked this up big time. Okay. An apology would be really good now. He struggles for the right words.
"Uh, sorry about that, Hakkai," he says. "The, uh, you know, the thing about pounding kind of came out wrong."
"Really," says Hakkai.
His voice is cold. His eyes bore into Gojyo, and Gojyo wants to squirm with embarrassment. He's obviously mortally offended his best friend, and Gojyo knows exactly what he's done wrong, and he can't un-do it. He brushes a couple strands of hair away from his face nervously. Friends don't hit on friends, or even make it sound like some sort of really lame come-on, except if you've got one of those sorts of friendships in which you do exchange innuendo…but he and Hakkai really don't have that kind of thing going on, which is the root of the problem here. Whoah. He realizes that the idea of flirting with Hakkai, of swapping innuendo with him, has started to get his interest below the belt. Gojyo's thoughts come to a screeching halt. He sits down on the nearest bed, fast.
Once he partly recovers from the shock of realizing that he finds his best friend somehow attractive, recovers at least enough not to be short-circuited by his own thinking, Gojyo's first instinct is to pass it off as not having gotten laid lately. In all the time since he gained his limiter-like it was some kind of fucking merit badge, hah!-Gojyo hasn't slept with anyone. He is vaguely-no, acutely- afraid that he'll lose what control he has and turn into a youkai mid-fuck. Plus, and maybe this is more importantly than that, Gojyo doesn't want anyone asking questions about his limiter. What if some ambitious would-be lover tried to take it off him? No, it was far better to leave the general public alone for now, just until he was really sure.
But Hakkai isn't public, and Hakkai won't ask questions or try to remove the metal wrapped around his wrist. Furthermore, Gojyo's nose and eyes tell him that Hakkai's interested, because the complex, pleasant scents that Hakkai is emitting have to be pheromones. Excited pheromones. It's a dead giveaway, too, the way Hakkai's pupils open up and swallow the green of his eyes. This somehow surprises Gojyo, one surprise too many in so short a time, and so he breaks eye contact abruptly. He peeks and sees Hakkai staring down at him, scrutinizing him. The little twist of desire in the pit of his stomach is rapidly getting bigger.
Gojyo wonders, suddenly, how sharply Hakkai can sense these things as well, if Hakkai's damped down senses are as strong as his. If the sudden jump of his eyebrows is anything to judge by, Hakkai's more than up to the task. Gojyo watches, in fascinated horror, as Hakkai's eyes take a brief detour down below Gojyo's waist and then flick back up again to his face.
"That was impolitic of me," says Hakkai. "My apologies."
He sighs and sits on the other bed, facing Gojyo.
"But I suppose the proverbial cat is now out of the bag," Hakkai says.
He seems a bit unfocused as he looks at Gojyo while speaking. But, Gojyo is interested to see, Hakkai's pupils are still blown wide, and he hasn't stopped smelling good. So damn good. Gojyo exhales and it comes out more like a sigh. Gojyo feels like a saint for resisting the urge to really check Hakkai out.
Though this isn't the first time Gojyo's considered taking a man to his bed, it's the first time he's actually wanted, really wanted, to follow through out of something more than idle curiosity. And at this moment, with Hakkai's knees mere inches from his own, he has to wonder why he hasn't-why they haven't-done this before because it already feels like it's going to be spectacular, and they aren't even touching. Gojyo shifts forward, just enough so that his kneecap grazes Hakkai's.
"Maybe it's just you," says Gojyo.
Hakkai blinks.
"I beg your pardon?" he says.
"Never mind," says Gojyo. "Tell me why we've never…"
He makes a gesture, a wobbly sort of gesture that's somehow supposed to convey the idea of sex. It doesn't really, but Hakkai gets it anyway. He's good like that.
"As I recall, you were quite adamant the first time we met," says Hakkai. "I was trying to be respectful."
Gojyo stares at him for a long, unblinking moment before cracking up laughing.
"There you go again with that respectfulness thing," he says.
Hakkai laughs as well, genuine and soft, his head tilted back and his mouth spread wide. After the laughter dies out, they both lean forward into the space that lies between the beds, scooting forward to the edges of the mattresses, legs stiffened for balance. Gojyo plants his elbows on top of his thighs, resting his chin on his hands. He touches foreheads with Hakkai, and it's the best he's felt in months. He closes his eyes briefly, reveling in the comfort. Hakkai is warm against him, his breath coming out soft and ticklish against Gojyo's throat. Gojyo opens his eyes again and is almost overwhelmed by the green of Hakkai's. Hakkai looks expectant, patient, kind. A thought comes to Gojyo, and it's not one he likes much.
"Don't tell me you've been waiting all along…" says Gojyo. "For me to…you know."
Hakkai looks confused for a moment, then shakes his head in answer.
"No, of course not," he says. "I've kept myself busy, though I do admit I was tempted, on occasion, to see what might happen if I pushed you a little harder."
Gojyo didn't know-until now-that Hakkai had been pushing at all. His dismay at this must show on his face, because Hakkai is all too quick to reassure him.
"It's all right," says Hakkai. "As I said, I didn't expect anything to come of it."
Hakkai sounds upbeat about the whole thing. Too bad this optimism makes Gojyo feel even worse, like maybe Hakkai's cheerfulness is a cover. Gojyo knows Hakkai pretty well, and he worries that this lack of expectations is founded somehow in self-loathing, like Hakkai doesn't think he deserves good things in his life. Not that Gojyo necessarily considers himself a good thing, and he's not exactly in Hakkai's life, not like in his life, all up close and personal…
"Shit, Hakkai," he says. "Just…shit."
"Mmm," says Hakkai.
It's a neutral enough noise, and Gojyo knows Hakkai's giving him time to think things over. There's remarkably little enough left to think about. Gojyo eases back onto the bed and lays there for a few minutes, legs dangling off the edge, the bloody patch on his jeans cold and damp. The room is quiet enough for easy thinking; there's little noise beyond the both of them breathing. He closes his eyes.
"Hakkai?" says Gojyo. "Get over here."
He flinches at the sound of his voice. It's too loud, really, after all the quiet.
"If that's what you want," says Hakkai.
The bed next to Gojyo dips, and he struggles to calm his suddenly racing heart. Hakkai's so fucking quiet sometimes, and even though Gojyo's expecting him, his arrival is still surprising. Gojyo cracks an eyelid. Hakkai lays down next to him, neatly, without fuss, and one whole side of his body is lined up and touching Gojyo's. It would be easy, really, really easy just to roll over and climb on top of him and have at it, except Gojyo's feeling more than a bit of performance anxiety at the moment, suddenly faced with the possibility of his first real mano a mano…uh. Yeah.
He cuts off his own thought, suddenly embarrassed and remembering that one…couple…few… times with the totally not gay exchange of handjobs with that one guy he used to hang out with. So maybe Gojyo isn't quite as lily-pure as he sometimes thinks of himself. So what? That crap with B-with that guy didn't mean anything. It's got nothing to do with now. Gojyo finds the silence in the room stifling. He has to make a little noise to break the tension.
"So," says Gojyo. "Ever done it with a redhead before?"
That was an absolutely stupid thing to say. Why had he said that, of all things? He sneaks a sideways glance at Hakkai, only to find him shaking-albeit silently-with laughter. Hakkai's practically convulsing on the bed, and every move he makes jiggles Gojyo. Hakkai catches his breath, pressing the back of one hand to his mouth. He regains his composure all too quickly.
"I suppose it's pointless for me to ask whether you've engaged in…congress before with another man," says Hakkai.
Gojyo barks a laugh, the tension whooshing out of him.
"Congress?" he says. "Congress? What the fuck, Hakkai."
He looks at Hakkai again, noticing the humor that lurks in those green eyes.
"Me and men," says Gojyo.
He pretends to think, while butterflies re-form in his stomach.
"You're right," says Gojyo. "I couldn't give you a straight answer on that one."
This time he and Hakkai both crack up. And even as they're laughing, Gojyo notices that he's getting a total proximity hard-on, Hakkai being nearby and attractive and what parts of him he can feel are toasty warm, and the idea of having some kind of sex is sounding pretty good right now, actually. Gojyo's been accused before of thinking with his dick, but he thinks, now, that maybe he's been over thinking this thing, just a little.
"You and me," says Gojyo. "You think so?"
"By all means," says Hakkai.
There's something predatory in his face, and so it doesn't come as a complete surprise when Hakkai is the one to make the real first move. He straddles Gojyo with gratifying accuracy, and their clothed groins brush and but damn, Gojyo knows it's been too long since the last time he had sex, if a little friction hits him so hard. Gojyo pushes up against Hakkai and desire runs over him like a freight train. Sucking in air, Gojyo lets out a little groan.
"Gojyo?" says Hakkai.
He sounds a little concerned, and Gojyo meets that concern with a grin.
"Sorry," he says. "Been a while."
"Ah," says Hakkai. "I understand. It has been some time for me, as well."
Hakkai, bless his heart, worms one of his hands between them and makes short work of Gojyo's fly. Gojyo's brain is addled enough by this brief handling that he attempts to continue the conversation.
"I haven't done it since, well," says Gojyo. "Anyway, it's been a few months."
"I see," says Hakkai. "I'm afraid I haven't indulged since before we started our little road trip. I do hope I haven't gotten rusty."
Hakkai smiles at him and undoes his own pants. Gojyo is left gaping, and if his mouth could have gotten any wider, it would have when Hakkai pulls out a small bottle that is, unmistakably, lube.
"But I thought you said," says Gojyo.
He tries hard to think, but his brain gets scrambled by the touch of Hakkai's hand again. It's slick and warm and strong and he bucks into the contact.
"I said I kept myself busy," says Hakkai. "I'd like to think that that solitude has granted me a certain proficiency in the matter at hand."
As if to make his point, Hakkai's fingers do some infuckingcredible things that render Gojyo incapable of speech. Gojyo swallows back the saliva that floods his mouth.
"Fuck," says Gojyo. "I'm not gonna last if you keep that up."
And it's true. The urge to come, and come soon has struck him faster than he would have believed. He joins his hand with Hakkai's, fisting their dicks together, easy and simple and oh-so good. Hakkai orchestrates the movements. Sweat pops out in pinpricks along Gojyo's hairline, and he wallows in the accumulated slickness between them.
"Perhaps we should slow down," says Hakkai. "If you're having trouble keeping up."
He's sounding a little out of breath himself. Gojyo looks up into his face, and he sees that Hakkai has gained a certain flush of color and sweat with their proceedings. He can smell the pheromones in the air, intoxicatingly thick and heavy.
True to his word, Hakkai slows down, moving their combined hands up and down at a pace so slow but yet so thorough that Gojyo feels himself being dragged to the finish, whether he likes it or not-but oh, how he likes it. It's agonizingly clear that Gojyo's going to come if he can just get a little more speed going.
"Hakkai," says Gojyo. "If you don't-"
He is rewarded with a beautiful corkscrew maneuver that has him seeing stars and biting his lip, cutting off whatever he was going to say. He exhales hard.
"Do that again," he says. "For the love of god, Hakkai, I'm dying here!"
He can feel his pulse in his dick, so clearly that he's starting to think that coming will actually kill him. Their joined fingers skid over the tops of their dicks, and the tip of Hakkai's pinky does a little swirl there, nudging their flesh together just that much more, and it's more than enough to catapult Gojyo right over the edge.
"Yeah," he says. "Fuck yeah."
He tenses up and his body does its thing, shooting hard and adding to the general mess they've got trapped in their hands. He's peripherally aware of Hakkai coming too, in very short order, the warm wet of it splattering onto Gojyo's abs before Hakkai collapses on top of him in a heap of pointy elbows and knees.
Gojyo's afterglow is generally uninterrupted by this, if only because he can feel Hakkai's eyelashes brushing against his shoulders, and the dampness of his breath is regular on the side of his neck, even if his face is so close that it's out of focus. Nothing else seems to matter, now that things are so agreeably right between the two of them.
"That was," says Gojyo.
He can't even finish his thought, fuzzy and fleeting as it is.
"Indeed," says Hakkai. "It was."
The rise and fall of Hakkai's breathing presses their chests together even further. Gojyo realized, somewhat belatedly, that they haven't even taken their clothes off.
"Next time," says Gojyo. "Nudity."
"Mmm," says Hakkai. "Next time."
His hair brushes, ticklish-like, against Gojyo as he nods agreement.
And the mere thought of a next time is enough to get an interested twitch out of his anatomy. An answering twitch comes from Hakkai, and Gojyo grins fit to burst, because today he's the cat who's got the canary, the bird in the hand, and possibly the two in the bush, too.
"Yep," Gojyo says, satisfied. "Still got it."
The next day, their little group bids the inn farewell as they head out into the unknown again. Things between Gojyo and Hakkai are quiet and a little rocky-at least, they are on Gojyo's end of things because, for some stupid, stupid reason, the voice in the back of his head is somehow dissatisfied that there wasn't some big giant moment of resolution or clarity, no amazing guidepost for him to know he's done something right for a change. And then, later that first afternoon, Hakkai hands him the map with an offhand comment about knowing where they are headed in relation to where they've been. The little town from the previous night isn't on the map, officially, but Gojyo is tickled to see that Hakkai-oh please, let it have been Hakkai-has added a little asterisk to the long, winding graphite line. It's the spot where the town they've just come from might be. Gojyo takes it as a good sign.
The days that come are largely like the ones that have already passed: the long, dusty roads that snake through the countryside; frequent side-trips to monasteries; even more frequent youkai attacks; the usual in-jeep bitching and banter. Still, the first time they come to an inn where Gojyo can get a little privacy, enough to lock the door and take off his limiter, he finds he is no longer alone. Hakkai is by his side. And where he expected it to be awkward and embarrassing, it is instead easy and, frankly, a relief. Hakkai doesn't turn away from him, probably because Gojyo hasn't accidentally…well…flashed him like some kind of pervert with a trench coat. Gojyo basks in the acceptance and comes out of the locked room feeling more human than he did before, all evidence to the contrary.
Another little asterisk marks the map when they leave that inn behind. And when they come to the next, and the lodgings after that, and after that, asterisks begin to dot the map. Each time, Hakkai follows him into the room, and each time Gojyo comes out of it happy that his best friend probably won't stop being his friend after all. Hakkai shows no problem at all with Gojyo-as-youkai. In fact, Hakkai seems to find his youkai appearance fascinating…and attractive. That sort of admiration-and the sorts of hands-on things Hakkai does to express it- does wonders for Gojyo's ego and his confidence.
When Gojyo looks at the map some weeks down the road, he notices with a little manly pride that the asterisks corresponding with the places that he and Hakkai do a little mutual worship are more emphatic than the ones where they've just talked or sat quietly. Gojyo vows to himself to raise the standard and see how bold and deep he can get Hakkai to make the little stars.
(He soon discovers that if he can convince Hakkai to take off his own limiters as well, the emphasis of his pencil will scratch through the map. Gojyo congratulates himself on a job well done.)
Day is replaced by night, and night turns into day, and still they travel onward, to the west. Despite the gruesome battles and constant danger, Gojyo finds himself sliding a little more toward contentment every day. He's coming to a truce with himself, hour by hour. The idea that he might never be completely comfortable with himself is a foregone conclusion: he's already accepted it as true and, in doing so, Gojyo has worn away the sharpest edges of his fear. Or, at least, that's what Hakkai keeps telling him. For Gojyo, it's enough that Hakkai, the person he trusts more than anyone or anything, believes it.
They are hurtling toward their shared destinies-or so the gods would have them believe-and Gojyo comes to the thought that, though some things have changed, the most important things have stayed the same. He's still the same person he has been, more or less, and Hakkai is too, and so is Sanzo and even Goku. They do what they have to, day after day. They keep pushing to the west, into the fading light of the day, letting nothing stand in them and their goal. Not even themselves.
Gojyo thinks he can live with that.
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Well. I'm satisfied. I hope you enjoyed it and didn't drown in the overwhelming optimism. XD
~later
Fun fact: this chapter marks the first occasion I've had to try out the adult content filter on lj. XD It's kind of significantly longer than the other three parts...in fact, it is nearly as long as the first three put together.
And now, the down and dirty on the story:
Title: The Hanyou's Prayer
Summary: Gojyo has a bit of an accident and has to live with the life-altering consequences.
Notes: The fourth chapter is at least a hard R-rating; alternate reality taking place in and branching off from the canon universe; sex between Gojyo and Hakkai; swearing and canon-appropriate violence; present tense and gratuitous use of italics.
Previous three parts found here, on the master index.
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As a final warning to those who are not prepared: this final chapter contains some explicit m/m sex. If you don't care for it, kindly avert your eyes.
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At first for hours, then by days and weeks, Gojyo counts the time since his transformation. He wears his body like it's uncomfortable clothes, too stiff in the knees and chafing at the neck, never entirely convinced of who he now is. Hakkai's words-It felt like everything in the world was different; the only thing that had changed was me-haunt him.
The four of them travel the land, wandering back and forth, and Gojyo looks all the while for a way to turn back time to the point where things still made sense. On afternoons where the road goes on too long, and the sun beats down hard, squashing the conversation out of all of them, Gojyo finds himself mouthing along to the litany in his head. Hakkai's words transform over time-the only thing that has changed is me. He struggles along under the weight of those half-realized words. They begin to sound like the truth.
Still, every time they come to a monastery or an ascetic somewhere in the back hills, Gojyo's hopes rise. He knows Sanzo is making inquiries, though the monk takes pains to hide it. Nothing ever comes of it. Gojyo can tell this by the way Sanzo carries himself, how he takes his time coming back from questioning this or that head monk or from a visit to what passes for the records room or library of wherever they find themselves. It goes the same every time, and every time Sanzo holds himself just a little less erect. Gojyo knows it's costing Sanzo to do this for him, that the price of the free information is Sanzo's pride. And as much as Gojyo may or may not like the guy, it isn't right to let Sanzo keep doing this. Some days it seems like all Sanzo has is his pride.
Gojyo corners him, late one night after Hakkai and Goku have already retired to their borrowed cells in the latest of a long string of monasteries. He surprises Sanzo outside the library. Gojyo boxes him in between the solid walls of the hallway and the length of his body: it's plenty enough to stop Sanzo in his tracks. Sanzo's face tightens into a frown.
"What are you doing here?" says Sanzo.
"You don't have to keep doing this," says Gojyo. "Even I can tell it's eating you up. Pretty soon even Goku's gonna notice."
He speaks soft, easy, low. No sense in disturbing anyone else who might be up at this hour. He knows Sanzo can hear him.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," says Sanzo. "Now get out of my way before I shoot you."
Gojyo doesn't move and Sanzo doesn't back down from his threat. He pulls the gun from the sleeve of his robes.
"I mean it, Sanzo," says Gojyo. "It's not worth it. I'm not worth it. Fuck, man, I'm just one guy who's had some phenomenally bad luck."
Sanzo stares at him. This close, Gojyo can see every feathering crows-feet wrinkle he has, every line that's beginning to etch itself at the corners of his mouth. There are a lot. Gojyo notes the dark shadows under those brilliantly clear eyes, dark shadows that sleep doesn't seem to erase, shadows that persist, day after day.
"Tell me you don't actually believe the crap you're spouting," says Sanzo.
He digs the muzzle of the gun into Gojyo's chest. Gojyo remembers, vividly, that Sanzo has shot him before, in that exact same spot. He exhales. Sanzo's finger is steady on the trigger.
"The more you dig around, the shittier I feel," says Gojyo. "About all of it. It's just…easier if you stop. And that's the truth whether you shoot me or not."
"I'll do whatever I damn well please," says Sanzo.
Sanzo cocks the gun. Gojyo feels the start of sweat at his temples.
"Leave me out of it," says Gojyo. "Hell, leave me behind, for all I care. My head's not in the game and you know it."
"And here I was thinking that Hakkai was the self-sacrificing moron," says Sanzo.
He says this almost conversationally, but Gojyo is still pleased when Sanzo eases back and puts up his gun.
"My research has nothing to do with you and your pathetic whining," says Sanzo. "Consider this little conversation of ours a friendly warning. Next time, I shoot."
When Gojyo inhales, he can still feel the weight of the gun on his chest. He nods slowly and moves aside so Sanzo can leave.
"One more thing," says Sanzo. "What you do on your own time is your business. But when we're in a fight…"
"Yeah?" says Gojyo.
Sanzo is quiet for a minute. He gets out a cigarette and lights it, obviously choosing his words with care.
"I don't want you being distracted and getting us all killed," says Sanzo. "So do what you have to do, or I swear I'll kill you first and find someone else to take your place on our little road trip."
Sanzo plays the hard-ass all too well, lambasting him like this. Gojyo grins hard, recognizing concern when he sees it, even if it is dressed with sarcasm and scorn. Sanzo would never be able to find another person to join their four-man crusade, if he were to kill Gojyo for real. They're stuck with each other.
Sanzo sniffs and brushes past him. Gojyo is too busy trying not to hurt himself holding back his laughter to notice Sanzo's fan heading for the back of his head. Crack.
"Oww," says Gojyo. "Bastard."
Sanzo makes no reply, but simply walks away, leaving Gojyo rubbing the sting out of his scalp.
After that, Gojyo doesn't know whether or not Sanzo stops researching or merely becomes more circumspect about it. It doesn't really matter, though: as long as Gojyo can believe Sanzo has stopped, he is content. Without the constant reminder that something is wrong with him, he starts to settle into himself. He takes little notice of his limiter now, though that has partly to do with his state of mind and partly to do with the habit he's developed of wearing long sleeves. Gojyo promises himself that this is a temporary change, especially on the all-too-many days where it's so hot that all conversation, all movement within the jeep comes to a halt and everything's quiet, save the occasional chirp of Hakuryuu.
They keep heading west, always to the west, going through dry spells where they don't see other living creatures for days-weeks if you don't count the frequent youkai attacks- and every night the sun drops suddenly below the earth, leaving them to make camp in the remains of the daylight and the dusty light of the jeep's headlights. Sometimes, an electricity vibrates between the four of them, silent and unseen but as real as anything else, and Hakkai coaxes Hakuryuu to drive himself at night. They all roll onward under the star-spattered night sky, falling asleep in their seats and waking just before the dawn in unfamiliar-but-more-of-the-same territories.
There are towns out there, too, scattered, never showing up on the all but useless map. Every time they crest a hill and come upon houses, it's a cause for silent celebration. It's a chance to stop and rest, to buy supplies, a hot meal and, if Sanzo's in a good mood-or a really rotten one because he's wounded from one fight or another and is unable to protest Hakkai's usurping the credit card-they might even purchase rooms for a night or two.
Alone, behind the safely locked doors of those infrequent rooms, Gojyo takes off his limiter. He locks himself in, locks everyone else out, just in case, and checks and double checks the doors before he takes off the bronze bracelet that is his silent companion. Inn by inn, hour by hour by stolen minute, he gets used to the person he is beneath his hanyou skin. With his limiter set safely aside, Gojyo tries to reconcile himself with the truth. He gets practice at sudden transformations, can be there and back in five minutes because at first that's all he allows himself. He's too afraid of anything more, afraid he'll snap and go bad, afraid he'll hate himself even more the longer he looks at his inhuman skin.
He's afraid he'll find out he likes being a youkai.
Gojyo becomes resigned to the idea of it, to this body and its ridiculously heightened senses. He hardens himself against the shock of hair-claws-sight-heartbeat-youkai-heartbeat-scent-claws. After hundreds of minutes, secreted away by the handful in these anonymous rooms, he becomes numb to the horror and surprise, and the way all the blood rushes through his head and leaves him dizzy for the first couple minutes doesn't bother him, is merely a fact of his existence. Gojyo spends longer stretches without the suppressing limiter fastened around his wrist, and to his relief, nothing bad happens. He decides that living this life behind closed doors, an hour at a time, is more than enough.
More weeks pass, and Gojyo adjusts. He is inured.
Gojyo opens the door to the room, beyond happy to see a real bed for the first time in a long time. Too bad the inn only had two rooms available, but he and Hakkai are more than capable of sharing the space. Hakkai's out shopping already with Hakuryuu in tow, though, so Gojyo has two packs in his hands, one his and the other Hakkai's. It's only fair, or so Hakkai had said when they'd disembarked at the inn's front steps.
Gojyo drops Hakkai's bag at the foot of the bed closest to the door and dumps the contents of his own pack onto the remaining bed. He does a quick sort-through of the laundry, shoves the dirties off the bed, and the rest he crams back in every which way. He kicks off his boots and uses the half-filled bag as a pillow, laying himself out across the bed. It's probably the best feeling in the world-a real bed is heaven after being stuck in the jeep for so long and sleeping on top of the lumpiest ground yet between Chang An and whatever the fuck podunk town they're in now.
He lights himself a cigarette and smokes it quickly, mindful of how much time has passed since he parted company with Hakkai. Gojyo knows he's got plenty of time before anyone comes looking for him, but still… He crosses the room, locks the door, and deposits the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray at the side of the bed. He draws the curtain across the lone window.
Gojyo lays back down on his bed, takes a deep breath, and unfastens his limiter. He drops it beside the ashtray.
Dizzily, he counts in his head, waiting for his senses to stop bombarding him with information. Everything's too sharp and clear, and it's like he can see and hear and smell and taste everything in creation all at once. Soon, thought the vertigo fades away and the crush of overwhelming sensations leaves as well. Gojyo sits up, mindful not to dig his claws into the bedclothes for balance. He's left more than his share of accidentally-shredded sheets behind, and he likes to think he can do better than that these days. He brushes the hair back out of his face and wonders, for the millionth time, why taking off the limiter makes his hair grow at least two feet. It's fucking ridiculous.
Gojyo fishes out another cigarette, lights it, and catches the butt between his teeth. He's careful not to hook his lip with a claw in the process-again, painful experience behind the logic in that. He smokes this one a little more slowly, savoring the subtle differences in taste. Except for the lack of impact the nicotine has on his youkai form, smoking is one activity that's more or less the same, and Gojyo clings to that same-ness. It's one of the things that helps him convince himself that he's still the same person.
Crushing his cigarette out in the ashtray, Gojyo hesitates. What to do next? He paces around the room, already bored out of his skull.
"Heh," he says. "'Not like I can just mosey on downstairs to the bar."
It's a useless exercise, this, when he's got nothing to do except walk around the room and be. He should have planned this better, bought some booze downstairs or something. Gojyo shrugs. He looks around the room a little more. There's the bedside table, stationed between the two beds. There's also a rickety sort of sitting-down-at table on the wall opposite, with two mismatched chairs. There's nothing else for furniture and nothing at all of interest in the room. Even the faint stains on the floor and walls are perfectly ordinary, the kind of stains that all well-used rooms acquire over time. Gojyo thumbs the deck of cards in his pocket thoughtfully.
"Solitaire it is," he says.
He stops pacing and pulls out one of the chairs at the table, sitting down backward in it. He folds his arms over the back of the chair and rests his chin on top. He gets out his pack of cigarettes and his playing cards. Gojyo realizes he didn't bring the ashtray over with him, and while he himself doesn't mind dirtying the top of the table, he knows Hakkai will have a fit-a silent but wholly effective fit-and Gojyo will be in the doghouse for days. So he heaves himself up again and gets the ashtray.
A sound out in the hall catches his ear; footsteps, light and even, and the rustle of bags of supplies. Gojyo instinctively knows it's Hakkai. The doorknob rattles, and there's a sigh from the other side of the door.
"Gojyo," says Hakkai. "Can you get the door? I'm afraid my hands are rather full."
Years of Hakkai's influence override Gojyo's body and he finds himself moving to the door, unlocking, and opening it. Hakkai looks a bit overwhelmed: his arms are overly full, some bags already starting to squeeze out of his grasp. Gojyo reaches to help.
"Sorry," says Gojyo. "Here, I can take some of that."
"Thank you, I-" says Hakkai.
The veneer of calm on Hakkai's face slips. His face goes pale, and Gojyo realizes all in a rush that he's forgotten to put his limiter back on. Hakkai drops the bags. The ashtray Gojyo has been holding thumps to the floor. Gojyo's face flushes with horror, and Hakkai pastes on his most polite, most fake smile.
"Oh," says Hakkai. "Please excuse me."
He turns away as if to leave, but Gojyo drags him inside the room, fueled by a panicked strength. He kicks the door shut behind them. His heart is beating too fast and his breath rushes in and out, in and out, loud and scared. He forcibly seats Hakkai on the nearest bed.
"I'm sorry," says Gojyo. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. Just, ah, let me, you know…"
He lets go of Hakkai to gesture to the limiter, still on the bedside table, and notices that his claws have blood on them. He looks at Hakkai, who is, in turn, looking up at him, and fairly calmly, considering the situation. His arm is bleeding, as are his shoulders where Gojyo's clawed hands had lain. Gojyo flinches like someone's punched him.
"Shit," he says. "Shit, I'm sorry."
He attempts to wipe Hakkai's blood off onto his jeans and instead manages to gouge his leg. The coppery scent of blood rises in the air, and the hairs on the back of Gojyo's neck stand up. Some strong, unnamed instinct rises in him, and he's absolutely petrified of it. His vision narrows and he dashes for the nightstand. Gojyo is aware of some noise, aware of Hakkai speaking, but he can't make out the words. He fumbles the limiter into his hand and struggles to get it on because his stupid fucking claws are in the fucking way.
Too slowly for his own comfort, he finally slaps the bracelet around his wrist. Things get a little wobbly around the edges then, and Gojyo slides gracelessly to the floor, resting his back against the side of the bed. He glances down at his fingers. They're back to normal, though the tips of them still have a scrim of blood drying on them, in the nail beds and under the nail. His fingerprints are already rusty-colored and dry. Gojyo concentrates hard on taking deep breaths of air.
"Gojyo?" says Hakkai. "Are you all right?"
Gojyo nods as he scrubs his fingers on his shirt. There's a cold, trickly sensation on his leg. He looks down. Shit. He's bleeding from where he clawed himself. He notes distantly that his pants are going to need some serious repairs if he ever wants to wear them again. He stretches the leg cautiously. Gojyo hisses in pain, the his breath shaping itself around his clenched teeth.
"Gojyo?" says Hakkai. "I'm going to come around and have a look at you, all right?"
Gojyo realizes Hakkai's using his soft voice, his ridiculously soft, soothing voice meant for unwilling, scared people in need of healing, and Gojyo's almost insulted because he doesn't need coddling, dammit, but his leg hurts like fuck-all.
"Yeah," says Gojyo. "Got myself pretty good, I think."
Hakkai comes and sits on the floor across from him, and again Gojyo notices that Hakkai's bleeding. He feels horrible all over again.
"I'm so sorry," says Gojyo. "I just…I really didn't mean…"
"I understand," says Hakkai. "I'm fine. They're barely scratches."
Hakkai carefully explores the wound on Gojyo's leg. Gojyo tries not to move.
"If anything, it's my fault," says Hakkai.
"Huh?" says Gojyo. "But I'm the one who…"
"I surprised you," says Hakkai. "I'm sorry. If I had had any idea that you were, well…"
"Letting it all hang out?" says Gojyo.
It should have been funny-at least, it had sounded funny in his head-but no one is laughing. Gojyo bites the inside of his cheek as Hakkai starts healing him up. It's a fiercely itchy sensation, and he fists his hands at his sides against the urge to scratch.
"If I'd known you were exploring your youkai side," says Hakkai.
He sighs and shakes his head.
"It's not easy, is it?" he says. "I can't believe you'd take this on by yourself."
Gojyo is quiet. He watches Hakkai working, the light of his qi strong and unwavering. Hakkai sounds a little troubled.
"It's really very courageous of you," he says. "Though I'd thought…"
Hakkai stops talking for a minute, looking like he's a million miles away, though he continues to knit together Gojyo's flesh without visible effort.
"What?" says Gojyo. "What else was I supposed to do?"
Hakkai looks up at him, face serious.
"I'd hoped you might come to me," says Hakkai.
Gojyo is flabbergasted. He actually feels his jaw drop and, honestly, that's never happened to him before. His thoughts stutter.
"But! You never even said anything," says Gojyo.
"I didn't want you to feel pressured," says Hakkai. "There. All finished."
He pats Gojyo's leg and it's good as new, as far as Gojyo can tell.
"Thanks," says Gojyo. "But you should take care of yourself first next time."
Hakkai blinks, nonplussed. Gojyo blinks, too, processing, trying to figure out what wrong now.
"Er," says Gojyo. "Not that there's going to be a next time."
"Oh," says Hakkai.
He gets up off the floor and waits with an air of expectance, though he doesn't look Gojyo directly in the eyes but rather at a fixed point somewhere above and to the right of Gojyo's shoulder.
"It's simple," says Gojyo. "I'm not going to take off my limiter, not ever again. Limiter on equals no accidents."
Gojyo stretches, then gets off the floor as well. Hakkai stares at him. He's got one hand glowing, healing his arm. He sighs and starts on a shoulder. Gojyo can't look any more at the damage he's done, and so he instead tries to pick the blood out from his fingernails.
"Being a youkai," says Hakkai. "It's what you are, Gojyo."
"I almost killed you," says Gojyo. "And if I can do that to you…"
He stops mid-sentence, too wrapped up in his own little slice of hell to finish the thought aloud.
"No, you didn't," says Hakkai. "And you wouldn't have, either. I can take care of myself."
Gojyo just about jumps out of his skin when Hakkai wraps his hands around Gojyo's. He tugs, experimentally, but Hakkai doesn't let go. The torn thigh of his jeans feels tacky as he shifts in place. Hakkai smiles sharply at him. Sometimes it's easy to forget that he's is just as strong as the rest of them, as mild-mannered as he often is. Gojyo finds himself suddenly fascinated with that duality. His anxiety blunts itself on these thoughts and he gains some relief from it.
"Yeah, yeah," says Gojyo. "You've made your point. You could pound me into the ground if you wanted."
Hakkai nods and releases him.
"If I felt the need to defend myself, I would," says Hakkai.
"But you'd fix me up after, right?" says Gojyo. "After all, what's a little harmless pounding between friends?"
He and Goku squabble and scrap all the time, but Goku isn't anything like Hakkai. Gojyo wonders whether or not such a fight would harm their friendship. It's hard to tell how Hakkai takes things, sometimes. And then it occurs to him how what he's said about, er, fighting -and it was totally not pervy in his head-might sound to Hakkai.
Gojyo can feel a sheepish, embarrassed grin taking over his face. A quick look at Hakkai shows that he's really put his foot in it this time: the other man is standing stiffer than a statue, and he's got the weirdest expression on his face. Obviously Gojyo's fucked this up big time. Okay. An apology would be really good now. He struggles for the right words.
"Uh, sorry about that, Hakkai," he says. "The, uh, you know, the thing about pounding kind of came out wrong."
"Really," says Hakkai.
His voice is cold. His eyes bore into Gojyo, and Gojyo wants to squirm with embarrassment. He's obviously mortally offended his best friend, and Gojyo knows exactly what he's done wrong, and he can't un-do it. He brushes a couple strands of hair away from his face nervously. Friends don't hit on friends, or even make it sound like some sort of really lame come-on, except if you've got one of those sorts of friendships in which you do exchange innuendo…but he and Hakkai really don't have that kind of thing going on, which is the root of the problem here. Whoah. He realizes that the idea of flirting with Hakkai, of swapping innuendo with him, has started to get his interest below the belt. Gojyo's thoughts come to a screeching halt. He sits down on the nearest bed, fast.
Once he partly recovers from the shock of realizing that he finds his best friend somehow attractive, recovers at least enough not to be short-circuited by his own thinking, Gojyo's first instinct is to pass it off as not having gotten laid lately. In all the time since he gained his limiter-like it was some kind of fucking merit badge, hah!-Gojyo hasn't slept with anyone. He is vaguely-no, acutely- afraid that he'll lose what control he has and turn into a youkai mid-fuck. Plus, and maybe this is more importantly than that, Gojyo doesn't want anyone asking questions about his limiter. What if some ambitious would-be lover tried to take it off him? No, it was far better to leave the general public alone for now, just until he was really sure.
But Hakkai isn't public, and Hakkai won't ask questions or try to remove the metal wrapped around his wrist. Furthermore, Gojyo's nose and eyes tell him that Hakkai's interested, because the complex, pleasant scents that Hakkai is emitting have to be pheromones. Excited pheromones. It's a dead giveaway, too, the way Hakkai's pupils open up and swallow the green of his eyes. This somehow surprises Gojyo, one surprise too many in so short a time, and so he breaks eye contact abruptly. He peeks and sees Hakkai staring down at him, scrutinizing him. The little twist of desire in the pit of his stomach is rapidly getting bigger.
Gojyo wonders, suddenly, how sharply Hakkai can sense these things as well, if Hakkai's damped down senses are as strong as his. If the sudden jump of his eyebrows is anything to judge by, Hakkai's more than up to the task. Gojyo watches, in fascinated horror, as Hakkai's eyes take a brief detour down below Gojyo's waist and then flick back up again to his face.
"That was impolitic of me," says Hakkai. "My apologies."
He sighs and sits on the other bed, facing Gojyo.
"But I suppose the proverbial cat is now out of the bag," Hakkai says.
He seems a bit unfocused as he looks at Gojyo while speaking. But, Gojyo is interested to see, Hakkai's pupils are still blown wide, and he hasn't stopped smelling good. So damn good. Gojyo exhales and it comes out more like a sigh. Gojyo feels like a saint for resisting the urge to really check Hakkai out.
Though this isn't the first time Gojyo's considered taking a man to his bed, it's the first time he's actually wanted, really wanted, to follow through out of something more than idle curiosity. And at this moment, with Hakkai's knees mere inches from his own, he has to wonder why he hasn't-why they haven't-done this before because it already feels like it's going to be spectacular, and they aren't even touching. Gojyo shifts forward, just enough so that his kneecap grazes Hakkai's.
"Maybe it's just you," says Gojyo.
Hakkai blinks.
"I beg your pardon?" he says.
"Never mind," says Gojyo. "Tell me why we've never…"
He makes a gesture, a wobbly sort of gesture that's somehow supposed to convey the idea of sex. It doesn't really, but Hakkai gets it anyway. He's good like that.
"As I recall, you were quite adamant the first time we met," says Hakkai. "I was trying to be respectful."
Gojyo stares at him for a long, unblinking moment before cracking up laughing.
"There you go again with that respectfulness thing," he says.
Hakkai laughs as well, genuine and soft, his head tilted back and his mouth spread wide. After the laughter dies out, they both lean forward into the space that lies between the beds, scooting forward to the edges of the mattresses, legs stiffened for balance. Gojyo plants his elbows on top of his thighs, resting his chin on his hands. He touches foreheads with Hakkai, and it's the best he's felt in months. He closes his eyes briefly, reveling in the comfort. Hakkai is warm against him, his breath coming out soft and ticklish against Gojyo's throat. Gojyo opens his eyes again and is almost overwhelmed by the green of Hakkai's. Hakkai looks expectant, patient, kind. A thought comes to Gojyo, and it's not one he likes much.
"Don't tell me you've been waiting all along…" says Gojyo. "For me to…you know."
Hakkai looks confused for a moment, then shakes his head in answer.
"No, of course not," he says. "I've kept myself busy, though I do admit I was tempted, on occasion, to see what might happen if I pushed you a little harder."
Gojyo didn't know-until now-that Hakkai had been pushing at all. His dismay at this must show on his face, because Hakkai is all too quick to reassure him.
"It's all right," says Hakkai. "As I said, I didn't expect anything to come of it."
Hakkai sounds upbeat about the whole thing. Too bad this optimism makes Gojyo feel even worse, like maybe Hakkai's cheerfulness is a cover. Gojyo knows Hakkai pretty well, and he worries that this lack of expectations is founded somehow in self-loathing, like Hakkai doesn't think he deserves good things in his life. Not that Gojyo necessarily considers himself a good thing, and he's not exactly in Hakkai's life, not like in his life, all up close and personal…
"Shit, Hakkai," he says. "Just…shit."
"Mmm," says Hakkai.
It's a neutral enough noise, and Gojyo knows Hakkai's giving him time to think things over. There's remarkably little enough left to think about. Gojyo eases back onto the bed and lays there for a few minutes, legs dangling off the edge, the bloody patch on his jeans cold and damp. The room is quiet enough for easy thinking; there's little noise beyond the both of them breathing. He closes his eyes.
"Hakkai?" says Gojyo. "Get over here."
He flinches at the sound of his voice. It's too loud, really, after all the quiet.
"If that's what you want," says Hakkai.
The bed next to Gojyo dips, and he struggles to calm his suddenly racing heart. Hakkai's so fucking quiet sometimes, and even though Gojyo's expecting him, his arrival is still surprising. Gojyo cracks an eyelid. Hakkai lays down next to him, neatly, without fuss, and one whole side of his body is lined up and touching Gojyo's. It would be easy, really, really easy just to roll over and climb on top of him and have at it, except Gojyo's feeling more than a bit of performance anxiety at the moment, suddenly faced with the possibility of his first real mano a mano…uh. Yeah.
He cuts off his own thought, suddenly embarrassed and remembering that one…couple…few… times with the totally not gay exchange of handjobs with that one guy he used to hang out with. So maybe Gojyo isn't quite as lily-pure as he sometimes thinks of himself. So what? That crap with B-with that guy didn't mean anything. It's got nothing to do with now. Gojyo finds the silence in the room stifling. He has to make a little noise to break the tension.
"So," says Gojyo. "Ever done it with a redhead before?"
That was an absolutely stupid thing to say. Why had he said that, of all things? He sneaks a sideways glance at Hakkai, only to find him shaking-albeit silently-with laughter. Hakkai's practically convulsing on the bed, and every move he makes jiggles Gojyo. Hakkai catches his breath, pressing the back of one hand to his mouth. He regains his composure all too quickly.
"I suppose it's pointless for me to ask whether you've engaged in…congress before with another man," says Hakkai.
Gojyo barks a laugh, the tension whooshing out of him.
"Congress?" he says. "Congress? What the fuck, Hakkai."
He looks at Hakkai again, noticing the humor that lurks in those green eyes.
"Me and men," says Gojyo.
He pretends to think, while butterflies re-form in his stomach.
"You're right," says Gojyo. "I couldn't give you a straight answer on that one."
This time he and Hakkai both crack up. And even as they're laughing, Gojyo notices that he's getting a total proximity hard-on, Hakkai being nearby and attractive and what parts of him he can feel are toasty warm, and the idea of having some kind of sex is sounding pretty good right now, actually. Gojyo's been accused before of thinking with his dick, but he thinks, now, that maybe he's been over thinking this thing, just a little.
"You and me," says Gojyo. "You think so?"
"By all means," says Hakkai.
There's something predatory in his face, and so it doesn't come as a complete surprise when Hakkai is the one to make the real first move. He straddles Gojyo with gratifying accuracy, and their clothed groins brush and but damn, Gojyo knows it's been too long since the last time he had sex, if a little friction hits him so hard. Gojyo pushes up against Hakkai and desire runs over him like a freight train. Sucking in air, Gojyo lets out a little groan.
"Gojyo?" says Hakkai.
He sounds a little concerned, and Gojyo meets that concern with a grin.
"Sorry," he says. "Been a while."
"Ah," says Hakkai. "I understand. It has been some time for me, as well."
Hakkai, bless his heart, worms one of his hands between them and makes short work of Gojyo's fly. Gojyo's brain is addled enough by this brief handling that he attempts to continue the conversation.
"I haven't done it since, well," says Gojyo. "Anyway, it's been a few months."
"I see," says Hakkai. "I'm afraid I haven't indulged since before we started our little road trip. I do hope I haven't gotten rusty."
Hakkai smiles at him and undoes his own pants. Gojyo is left gaping, and if his mouth could have gotten any wider, it would have when Hakkai pulls out a small bottle that is, unmistakably, lube.
"But I thought you said," says Gojyo.
He tries hard to think, but his brain gets scrambled by the touch of Hakkai's hand again. It's slick and warm and strong and he bucks into the contact.
"I said I kept myself busy," says Hakkai. "I'd like to think that that solitude has granted me a certain proficiency in the matter at hand."
As if to make his point, Hakkai's fingers do some infuckingcredible things that render Gojyo incapable of speech. Gojyo swallows back the saliva that floods his mouth.
"Fuck," says Gojyo. "I'm not gonna last if you keep that up."
And it's true. The urge to come, and come soon has struck him faster than he would have believed. He joins his hand with Hakkai's, fisting their dicks together, easy and simple and oh-so good. Hakkai orchestrates the movements. Sweat pops out in pinpricks along Gojyo's hairline, and he wallows in the accumulated slickness between them.
"Perhaps we should slow down," says Hakkai. "If you're having trouble keeping up."
He's sounding a little out of breath himself. Gojyo looks up into his face, and he sees that Hakkai has gained a certain flush of color and sweat with their proceedings. He can smell the pheromones in the air, intoxicatingly thick and heavy.
True to his word, Hakkai slows down, moving their combined hands up and down at a pace so slow but yet so thorough that Gojyo feels himself being dragged to the finish, whether he likes it or not-but oh, how he likes it. It's agonizingly clear that Gojyo's going to come if he can just get a little more speed going.
"Hakkai," says Gojyo. "If you don't-"
He is rewarded with a beautiful corkscrew maneuver that has him seeing stars and biting his lip, cutting off whatever he was going to say. He exhales hard.
"Do that again," he says. "For the love of god, Hakkai, I'm dying here!"
He can feel his pulse in his dick, so clearly that he's starting to think that coming will actually kill him. Their joined fingers skid over the tops of their dicks, and the tip of Hakkai's pinky does a little swirl there, nudging their flesh together just that much more, and it's more than enough to catapult Gojyo right over the edge.
"Yeah," he says. "Fuck yeah."
He tenses up and his body does its thing, shooting hard and adding to the general mess they've got trapped in their hands. He's peripherally aware of Hakkai coming too, in very short order, the warm wet of it splattering onto Gojyo's abs before Hakkai collapses on top of him in a heap of pointy elbows and knees.
Gojyo's afterglow is generally uninterrupted by this, if only because he can feel Hakkai's eyelashes brushing against his shoulders, and the dampness of his breath is regular on the side of his neck, even if his face is so close that it's out of focus. Nothing else seems to matter, now that things are so agreeably right between the two of them.
"That was," says Gojyo.
He can't even finish his thought, fuzzy and fleeting as it is.
"Indeed," says Hakkai. "It was."
The rise and fall of Hakkai's breathing presses their chests together even further. Gojyo realized, somewhat belatedly, that they haven't even taken their clothes off.
"Next time," says Gojyo. "Nudity."
"Mmm," says Hakkai. "Next time."
His hair brushes, ticklish-like, against Gojyo as he nods agreement.
And the mere thought of a next time is enough to get an interested twitch out of his anatomy. An answering twitch comes from Hakkai, and Gojyo grins fit to burst, because today he's the cat who's got the canary, the bird in the hand, and possibly the two in the bush, too.
"Yep," Gojyo says, satisfied. "Still got it."
The next day, their little group bids the inn farewell as they head out into the unknown again. Things between Gojyo and Hakkai are quiet and a little rocky-at least, they are on Gojyo's end of things because, for some stupid, stupid reason, the voice in the back of his head is somehow dissatisfied that there wasn't some big giant moment of resolution or clarity, no amazing guidepost for him to know he's done something right for a change. And then, later that first afternoon, Hakkai hands him the map with an offhand comment about knowing where they are headed in relation to where they've been. The little town from the previous night isn't on the map, officially, but Gojyo is tickled to see that Hakkai-oh please, let it have been Hakkai-has added a little asterisk to the long, winding graphite line. It's the spot where the town they've just come from might be. Gojyo takes it as a good sign.
The days that come are largely like the ones that have already passed: the long, dusty roads that snake through the countryside; frequent side-trips to monasteries; even more frequent youkai attacks; the usual in-jeep bitching and banter. Still, the first time they come to an inn where Gojyo can get a little privacy, enough to lock the door and take off his limiter, he finds he is no longer alone. Hakkai is by his side. And where he expected it to be awkward and embarrassing, it is instead easy and, frankly, a relief. Hakkai doesn't turn away from him, probably because Gojyo hasn't accidentally…well…flashed him like some kind of pervert with a trench coat. Gojyo basks in the acceptance and comes out of the locked room feeling more human than he did before, all evidence to the contrary.
Another little asterisk marks the map when they leave that inn behind. And when they come to the next, and the lodgings after that, and after that, asterisks begin to dot the map. Each time, Hakkai follows him into the room, and each time Gojyo comes out of it happy that his best friend probably won't stop being his friend after all. Hakkai shows no problem at all with Gojyo-as-youkai. In fact, Hakkai seems to find his youkai appearance fascinating…and attractive. That sort of admiration-and the sorts of hands-on things Hakkai does to express it- does wonders for Gojyo's ego and his confidence.
When Gojyo looks at the map some weeks down the road, he notices with a little manly pride that the asterisks corresponding with the places that he and Hakkai do a little mutual worship are more emphatic than the ones where they've just talked or sat quietly. Gojyo vows to himself to raise the standard and see how bold and deep he can get Hakkai to make the little stars.
(He soon discovers that if he can convince Hakkai to take off his own limiters as well, the emphasis of his pencil will scratch through the map. Gojyo congratulates himself on a job well done.)
Day is replaced by night, and night turns into day, and still they travel onward, to the west. Despite the gruesome battles and constant danger, Gojyo finds himself sliding a little more toward contentment every day. He's coming to a truce with himself, hour by hour. The idea that he might never be completely comfortable with himself is a foregone conclusion: he's already accepted it as true and, in doing so, Gojyo has worn away the sharpest edges of his fear. Or, at least, that's what Hakkai keeps telling him. For Gojyo, it's enough that Hakkai, the person he trusts more than anyone or anything, believes it.
They are hurtling toward their shared destinies-or so the gods would have them believe-and Gojyo comes to the thought that, though some things have changed, the most important things have stayed the same. He's still the same person he has been, more or less, and Hakkai is too, and so is Sanzo and even Goku. They do what they have to, day after day. They keep pushing to the west, into the fading light of the day, letting nothing stand in them and their goal. Not even themselves.
Gojyo thinks he can live with that.
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Well. I'm satisfied. I hope you enjoyed it and didn't drown in the overwhelming optimism. XD
~later