Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Saiyuki Reload Fan Fiction ❯ Sweat, Not Tears ❯ Could Not Mean So Much ( Prologue )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Navi99 
Gojyo realizes he's already fallen. This story has mature content intended only for mature readers (see rating). male x male sexual relations, cursing.
Anime/Manga: Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Saiyuki Reload Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.05.2006 | Updated On: 07.05.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1000 | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Work In Progress
Gojyo realizes he's already fallen. This story has mature content intended only for mature readers (see rating). male x male sexual relations, cursing.
Anime/Manga: Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Saiyuki Reload Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.05.2006 | Updated On: 07.05.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1000 | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Work In Progress
do not own Saiyuki.
A/N: I don’t think this is a complete story, it will probably evolve into something else. This is only the first puzzle piece. Unfortunately, I don’t have the whole picture so building it is gonna be a big task. Tell me what you think - I still need to figure out where this is going - or even if it has a future. And by the way, just so no one gets the wrong idea - this is not a NCS scene.
Oh, and there’s going to be sap galore. No need to sweeten your tea. =)
Pairing: GojyoxSanzo *sigh* I just love those two
Prologue: Could Not Mean So Much
He remained poised at the entrance of paradise, eyes clenched - too frightened to give that final thrust that would seal his fate - would render him incapable of breathing without Sanzo. Because he was finally, horrifyingly aware of what his body had been perfectly clear on from the beginning. There was no one else who could take Sanzo’s place anymore, in his bed, or in his heart and that thought nearly frightened him enough to jerk him away from the silently quaking form beneath him.
His heart was in his throat - an idiom he’d always considered utterly ridiculous and yet what else could the knot chocking him be? The flowing blood in his veins gave him the rush of exhilaration. There was a deafening roar in his ears and he wondered at being able to hear Sanzo’s chocked gasps over it.
But the fear was not enough, as it proved never to be enough, and with his life pulsing at the entrance of Sanzo’s body, all thoughts, all doubts and any half-formed regrets vanished and with a single powerful thrust he was ensconced in Sanzo’s inviting heat and tightness. He buried his face against the blonde’s pale throat, open lips gasping against sweet milky skin glazed with a sheen of sweat, feeling as well as hearing the moan of discomfort and, paradoxically, pleasure of his corrupt monk.
All the while feeling the fist of Sanzo’s hand closing with equal heat and tightness around his heart.
Not yet, he thought, I’m not ready just yet.
He pulled back slightly, jostling a bit inside Sanzo and saw the monk bite his lip, a frown of concentration marring his brow. His face was still turned away from Gojyo and coward that he was, Gojyo did not protest this. He was not ready to look Sanzo in the eyes as he took his body - because it was Sanzo who was claiming his soul.
He leaned down and feathered a kiss on those golden locks, bracing his arms on either side of the still form beneath him, quiet but for the ragged breathing. His gaze could not help but track the flushed cheeks, sweat-dampened brow, the clenched hands - fingers buried in the sheets, and evidence of the blonde’s desire nestled between them.
He could not bring himself to touch Sanzo more than the point where his body joined the other’s - that itself was nearly too much, he did not think he could resist more, not without spewing nonsense he had no right thinking, much less vocalizing.
He shut his mind down, there wasn’t much of it operating at this point anyway, and took his Sanzo, took his body, refusing to look at his face but all-too aware of who was sharing his bed regardless. He tuned out the sounds, of flesh on flesh, and of vulnerable mewls and whimpers. He saw those lips, flushed rose, open and utter words, but did not hear - did not want to hear - what they said.
Their cries of completion were still ringing in his ears when he pulled quickly out of Sanzo. He saw the blonde wince slightly, saw that pale throat work but the monk did not speak, merely flung an arm over his eyes, keeping his face averted.
Gojyo nearly vaulted off the bed in his hurry to find his scattered clothing. He jerked the different articles of clothes on unsteadily and uncaring of their haphazard state.
He didn’t know what force drove him so compellingly to escape that room but he was in no state to fight his flight instincts.
His hand was on the doorknob, already turning, when he stopped. Letting out a ragged breath he leaned his forehead against the cool wood. He could hear the slow and quiet breathing coming from the bed - too slow and quiet to be that of sleep.
It was no good. Even with his back turned, even with eyes closed (probably even if he was on the other side of the world), his mind’s eye still saw Sanzo.
He turned the knob, determined to get out, but . . . his heart stuttered. He clenched his teeth as a wave of despair washed over him.
No, he thought desperately, I can’t stay. I have to leave. I have to get out.
He ripped the door open, doing his best not to slam it behind him, refusing to look at the occupant on the bed one last time, refusing to acknowledge what he was running from, or even that he was running.
He tried convincing himself that it did not matter, that the carnal act of sex - which he had experienced more times than he could be bothered to keep track of - could not mean so much.
And he tried to convince himself that the diamond droplets that had glistened on those pale golden eyelashes had been sweat, not tears.
A/N: I don’t think this is a complete story, it will probably evolve into something else. This is only the first puzzle piece. Unfortunately, I don’t have the whole picture so building it is gonna be a big task. Tell me what you think - I still need to figure out where this is going - or even if it has a future. And by the way, just so no one gets the wrong idea - this is not a NCS scene.
Oh, and there’s going to be sap galore. No need to sweeten your tea. =)
Pairing: GojyoxSanzo *sigh* I just love those two
Prologue: Could Not Mean So Much
He remained poised at the entrance of paradise, eyes clenched - too frightened to give that final thrust that would seal his fate - would render him incapable of breathing without Sanzo. Because he was finally, horrifyingly aware of what his body had been perfectly clear on from the beginning. There was no one else who could take Sanzo’s place anymore, in his bed, or in his heart and that thought nearly frightened him enough to jerk him away from the silently quaking form beneath him.
His heart was in his throat - an idiom he’d always considered utterly ridiculous and yet what else could the knot chocking him be? The flowing blood in his veins gave him the rush of exhilaration. There was a deafening roar in his ears and he wondered at being able to hear Sanzo’s chocked gasps over it.
But the fear was not enough, as it proved never to be enough, and with his life pulsing at the entrance of Sanzo’s body, all thoughts, all doubts and any half-formed regrets vanished and with a single powerful thrust he was ensconced in Sanzo’s inviting heat and tightness. He buried his face against the blonde’s pale throat, open lips gasping against sweet milky skin glazed with a sheen of sweat, feeling as well as hearing the moan of discomfort and, paradoxically, pleasure of his corrupt monk.
All the while feeling the fist of Sanzo’s hand closing with equal heat and tightness around his heart.
Not yet, he thought, I’m not ready just yet.
He pulled back slightly, jostling a bit inside Sanzo and saw the monk bite his lip, a frown of concentration marring his brow. His face was still turned away from Gojyo and coward that he was, Gojyo did not protest this. He was not ready to look Sanzo in the eyes as he took his body - because it was Sanzo who was claiming his soul.
He leaned down and feathered a kiss on those golden locks, bracing his arms on either side of the still form beneath him, quiet but for the ragged breathing. His gaze could not help but track the flushed cheeks, sweat-dampened brow, the clenched hands - fingers buried in the sheets, and evidence of the blonde’s desire nestled between them.
He could not bring himself to touch Sanzo more than the point where his body joined the other’s - that itself was nearly too much, he did not think he could resist more, not without spewing nonsense he had no right thinking, much less vocalizing.
He shut his mind down, there wasn’t much of it operating at this point anyway, and took his Sanzo, took his body, refusing to look at his face but all-too aware of who was sharing his bed regardless. He tuned out the sounds, of flesh on flesh, and of vulnerable mewls and whimpers. He saw those lips, flushed rose, open and utter words, but did not hear - did not want to hear - what they said.
Their cries of completion were still ringing in his ears when he pulled quickly out of Sanzo. He saw the blonde wince slightly, saw that pale throat work but the monk did not speak, merely flung an arm over his eyes, keeping his face averted.
Gojyo nearly vaulted off the bed in his hurry to find his scattered clothing. He jerked the different articles of clothes on unsteadily and uncaring of their haphazard state.
He didn’t know what force drove him so compellingly to escape that room but he was in no state to fight his flight instincts.
His hand was on the doorknob, already turning, when he stopped. Letting out a ragged breath he leaned his forehead against the cool wood. He could hear the slow and quiet breathing coming from the bed - too slow and quiet to be that of sleep.
It was no good. Even with his back turned, even with eyes closed (probably even if he was on the other side of the world), his mind’s eye still saw Sanzo.
He turned the knob, determined to get out, but . . . his heart stuttered. He clenched his teeth as a wave of despair washed over him.
No, he thought desperately, I can’t stay. I have to leave. I have to get out.
He ripped the door open, doing his best not to slam it behind him, refusing to look at the occupant on the bed one last time, refusing to acknowledge what he was running from, or even that he was running.
He tried convincing himself that it did not matter, that the carnal act of sex - which he had experienced more times than he could be bothered to keep track of - could not mean so much.
And he tried to convince himself that the diamond droplets that had glistened on those pale golden eyelashes had been sweat, not tears.