Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Saiyuki Reload Fan Fiction ❯ These Living Arms ❯ These Living Arms ( Chapter 1 )

This fic was in part inspired by a song by The Tea Party (included at the very beginning). It contains some pretty graphic Yaoi, so if you don't like that kind of stuff, then don't bother reading it. Paragraph changes denote a change in perspective (from Gojyo's POV to Hakkai's or vice versa)

I don't own the song “These Living Arms” which belongs to The Tea Party, or Saiyuki, which belongs to Kazuya Minekura.

All I have is this fic, and I'm poor, so don't sue please!

Reviews welcome…but if you don't have anything nice to say I'd prefer you say nothing at all (constructive criticism is okay).

 

 

These Living Arms

 

So a crowd has gathered `round us

I'm pining one last kiss

Struggling with this lifeline

In the shadow of this bliss.

Patience my love, it will all be alright.

 

But ain't it funny how the fates work

I feel cheated by the turn

Still this love it hovers over us

And the lessons that we've learned.

Patience my love, it will all be alright.

 

With your arms around me

You're singing softly

And I fade from memories

And move on.

 

We were lost inside a wasteland

Of fools groping for the gold

I wonder if they'll think of us

While they're searching for their souls.

Patience my love, it'll all be alright.

 

With your arms around me

You're singing softly

And I fade from memories

And move on.

 

So never put it out my love

The spirit is a flame that burns within

Hold on to me

And it'll all be alright

 

Sleep now is descending like a dream

Still I'm shaking from the softness of your skin

Hold on to me love

And make it all feel alright

 

With your arms around me

You're singing softly

And I fade from memories

And move on

May nothing harm you

I'm still inside you

With my arms around you

You'll move on

 

Sweet lover go on

My love be strong.

The Tea Party

From “TRIPtych”

 

 

 

Hakkai has always been an enigma, an anomaly, an oxymoron - a sinner with the patience of a saint, a murderer who wouldn't hurt a fly, a beautiful face hiding a terrifying temper. What Hakkai has learned to show to the world is a mask, a smile painted on and eyes like glass with all the emotion sucked out of them. But the mask is frail, like tissue paper, and when it rains, that same mask, into which he has poured so much of his energy and time, breaks down and washes away.

The real Hakkai is fear, doubt and pain all mixed with memories of a dark night when it seemed to rain blood.

Gojyo has always known the truth about Hakkai, that he only pretends not to think about all the things he lost that night, when the truth is that he thinks about them every waking moment - or he thinks about the fact that he stopped thinking about them, if only for an instant, and then allows the guilt to pile up.

Hakkai can't let go of all that guilt, even for a moment, he will never admit that it wasn't his fault, that he did everything that he could - probably more than anyone else ever would have - and that pisses Gojyo off.

But what really drives Gojyo insane is the fact that Hakkai still has one piece of business that he is determined to finish, the one thing that he never managed to achieve on that rainy night almost five years ago - his own death.

The rain breaks down Hakkai's precious mask and sets all the memories free, and once free, they rise up like flood waters to drown him. Of course, Hakkai would let himself drown if he could, if there was no one around to stop him. That's why, when it starts to rain, no matter where he is, no matter what he's doing, Gojyo goes home.

On this night he has a sure to win hand and a huge pot at stake - big enough to pay the rent on the apartment for six months in advance; but when he hears the rain start to fall, sees it spattering like tears against the bar's grime-coated windows, he folds and walks away from the table without a second thought. There will always be more money to win on another night, but there will never be another Hakkai.

He tries not to run on the way home, to convince himself that he's not worried, not so invested; but in the end he does run - just a little, he can't help himself it seems - enough to leave him out of breath when he reaches the apartment.

The door is unlocked - Hakkai always leaves it open for him, no matter how late he stays out, which doesn't really matter, since it isn't physical things intruding on their lives that Hakkai and Gojyo have to fear - but all the lights are off, and when Gojyo closes the door behind himself he is left blind and panting in the darkness. Slowly, with the help of the faint lights trickling in the window from the street outside, his eyes adjust until he can distinguish the outlines of the furniture, and of Hakkai sitting on the bed. He is wearing nothing but a pair of jeans - his face seems naked without his ever-present monocle, and his skin is so pale it seems to glow in the darkness.

You'd think, with all that time they had spent out in the sun over the last two years, he would have developed some kind of tan, but he looks like a ghost - and maybe he is. Maybe Cho Hakkai is nothing but the repenting ghost of Cho Gonou. On rainy nights Hakkai really is more dead than alive, and Gojyo doesn't turn on the light for fear that he might simply disappear like something half-imagined in the shadows.

“Welcome home Gojyo,” the smile that Hakkai pulls on over the pain on his face is so fake that Gojyo can always see every stitch that holds it together; it tugs at the seams, barely managing to stay intact.

“Hey…” is all that Gojyo can manage as he kicks off his boots and peels off his coat. There was a time, nearly five years ago now, which seems like a whole other lifetime, when he would have simply left his boots lying there in front of the door, and would have dropped his coat right next to them; but that was back when the apartment was his, and now it's theirs, even though he can't remember when he started to think of it that way, or how an apartment that used to be too small for two people is now too big for just one. So now he puts his coat on a hook next to the door, pairs his boots up neatly and moves them out of the doorway before he walks silently across the room and sits down on the bed.

When the mattress sags under his added weight their shoulders touch, but nothing else, and Gojyo can't even tell if Hakkai is breathing, he's sitting so damn still. It's like trying to reach across an abyss, Hakkai is a million miles away, still smiling, he hasn't even realized that Gojyo isn't standing in the doorway anymore; it's like he's slipped into some kind of waking coma. Hakkai is always like this when it rains, Gojyo has to use all his strength, strength he didn't even know he had until Hakkai fell into his life, to hold Hakkai in this world.

He's trying so damn hard to pretend that he's not hurting, that he's forgotten how to feel pain, but Gojyo knows that on nights like this there is nothing inside Hakkai but all the shit in his past that he refuses to let go, and all the pain that goes with it. Part of Gojyo wants to grab Hakkai, shake him, scream “You're not the only one who hurts you know!” or some shit like that, but it would all be useless. Through the years Gojyo has learned that all he can really do is wait. Hakkai will only talk about it if he wants to, will only come out of the darkness if Gojyo is patient and calm, if Gojyo pretends that he has absolutely no emotional involvement in the situation at all, becomes an empty repository for all of Hakkai's pain; otherwise there's no use trying to push him into it - might as well try to break down a brick wall by throwing eggs at it.

Gojyo lights a cigarette, takes a drag, and waits for the nicotine to soothe him. Since he was just a child, huddled in the darkness of his bedroom, listening to the sickening moans and creaking bedsprings in the room next door - which would eventually fall silent in the moments just before his brother would crawl away to scald his skin in the shower and then cry himself to sleep - the smoke has been his blanket, his shield, his mask. In his own way Gojyo knows he is a lot like Hakkai, just waiting for a cheap and easy excuse to end it all, more unwilling than truly unable to let go of the pain he's accumulated over the years.

Secretly, like Hakkai, he believes that he deserves the pain. It's so much a part of him that he wouldn't know what to do without it.

Suddenly Hakkai lets his mask slip, leaning into Gojyo until his head rests on Gojyo's shoulder, just long enough for him to feel the sharp pressure of Hakkai's cheekbone through his skin before he sits up straight again, mumbling something that sounds like, and probably is, an apology for what he thinks is his weakness.

He can't allow himself to ever rely on anyone the way that he used to, can't allow himself to be vulnerable, to be human.

Gojyo sighs, snuffing his half-finished cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table, a final ghost-cloud of smoke wafting up from the tip, and puts his arm around Hakkai's shoulder, slowly and carefully, part of him afraid that Hakkai will run from even this tiny expression of intimacy: kindness, pity, and maybe even a sort of love.

Hell no, not love - neither of them want that again.

 

Outside, the rain begins to drum loudly on the windows an overwhelming symphony, drowning out thought and Hakkai finds himself leaning into Gojyo's unexpected, but somehow not unwelcome embrace, desperate to hear something besides that relentless, soulless noise. Gojyo's arms, seeming somehow treacherous, wicked, holding too many promises, pull Hakkai close, and Hakkai finds his cheek pressed against Gojyo's chest. Here, he finds Gojyo's heartbeat, strong and steady, hammering determinedly against the bars of his ribs.

How long has it been, he wonders, since he heard the beating of another heart besides his own?

Gojyo's heartbeat is so strong - powerful, passionate and defiant - much like Gojyo himself. Gojyo has always been so good to him, taking him in even when he was a complete stranger, preserving his life, never judging him even once he learned the terrible truth of the things Hakkai had done, never asking him for anything; just giving, sharing everything that he had, even if it wasn't much.

He's never really thanked Gojyo, he thinks, not properly anyway. He really should. He sits up, intending to do just that, but the sight of Gojyo catches his breath in his throat and kills the words.

Lit by the faint light shining in from outside and mingling with the rain on the windowpane behind the bed, Gojyo's hair glows like a crimson halo around his head, and his eyes, so serious, shine slick like…

 

Gojyo knows what Hakkai sees in him by the way that his eyes go wide and his breath catches in his throat the instant before his eyes fall down to his own hands resting in his lap. Hakkai sees blood looking at Gojyo, he always has - the blood that marked a mongrel birth, and it reminds Hakkai, endlessly, of the blood that once stained his own hands.

Hakkai thinks of himself as a murderer, but in a way, Gojyo knows that he is one too. By his very birth he condemned his mother - mothers, both the one who gave birth to him, whose face he cannot remember, and the one who struggled to raise him, though she hated the sight of him - to die violent deaths.

Gojyo bites his lip - easily suppressing his own sense of self loathing the way that he always has, by pushing it into the back of his mind - and takes Hakkai's hands into his own, holding them tightly even as Hakkai tries, although half-heartedly, to pull away.

“There's no blood on your hands anymore Hakkai,” He says as gently but as firmly as he can, ignoring the almost frantic denial that he sees in the other man's emerald eyes, “I can't see it, I can't feel it…I can't even taste it.”

Without thinking about what he's doing, or why, he bends and kisses each of Hakkai's palms to accent his words, licking his lips.

 

Hakkai shudders as Gojyo's surprisingly soft lips brush against his skin, his heart palpitating dangerously. It's been so long since anyone has touched him like that - why would anyone want to? The sensation makes him giddy, and for a moment his vision swims. He doesn't quite understand what he's feeling, but at that instant it's all he can think about.

 

Maybe it's something in Hakkai's eyes, or maybe it's simply the fact that he doesn't say “no” right away, but suddenly Gojyo is sick of watching Hakkai slowly drowning in his own guilt; he wants to do something, anything to ease Hakkai's pain. The only thing that he can think of is the same thing that has helped him to forget his own pain for so many years; it's something that he's never considered doing with a man before - but with Hakkai it seems alright somehow.

He's willing, he decides, to take a chance, so he leans in and kisses Hakkai as softly as he knows how, more gently than he's ever kissed anyone before, afraid that Hakkai might fall apart beneath his lips if there's too much pressure - or maybe that he will fall apart himself. There's something almost familiar about kissing Hakkai - the way he tastes, the texture of his tongue as it moves against Gojyo's own. Hakkai doesn't resist at first, but he doesn't quite accept it either, and it suddenly occurs to Gojyo that it might not be his lips that Hakkai tastes.

He pulls away and Hakkai is panting, his lips parted just slightly, flushed and swollen from the kiss.

He looks scared.

 

Try as he might, Hakkai can't seem to stop his body from trembling. His lips are throbbing and he can taste his heart at the back of his throat, along with the residue of Gojyo, stale cigarettes and beer. Shame and need, guilt and desire run through Hakkai's mind all at once, and Gojyo must see it on his face, because suddenly the inch of space between their bodies becomes a mile, and Gojyo is mumbling frantic apologies, running his hands through all that striking crimson hair.

Hakkai's heart wrenches at the look on Gojyo's face, the pain, the sense of rejection; he took such a risk, what might it cost him if Hakkai pushes him away? Hakkai wants to tell Gojyo that it isn't his fault, he hasn't done anything wrong - he has only tried to help for so long. It's because of Hakkai's own hands; they are too sinful now to touch anyone, to bring any kind of pleasure.

And it's also because of her - Kanan.

Hakkai knows that he can never give all of himself to anyone, even to Gojyo, because of Kanan.

But the longer he sits there, looking at Gojyo, the more his body aches, and relief is just inches away, in Gojyo's warm, living arms; arms that lifted him up out of mud and blood, giving him a life that he didn't want at first, but somehow learned to love in little ways, arms that have guided him and protected him for all the years since then. Arms that are now willing to risk everything, to change everything, to give Hakkai even one night of something that might be close to peace.

Hakkai knows that Kanan's arms can't keep him warm anymore, even though he wants them to, desperately. Kanan is gone, but Gojyo is here. His arms are willing, his eyes understand, and his lips are so surprisingly, achingly tender.

He's been terrified for so long of the things he's felt, secret desires that he's forced himself to deny, not for his own good, but for Gojyo. There's too much risk.

But sometimes, when you risk big, you win big.

He'll just have to hope that Kanan will forgive him.

 

“Gojyo…”

Hakkai reaches a hand towards him fearfully. His voice, the way that his breath trembles past his lips, the shadows in his deep green eyes, all speak to Gojyo of fearful desire, of need tempered by a terrifying uncertainty.

“Please Gojyo…”

In that instant, with that single word `please', Gojyo forgets all his hesitations and kisses Hakkai again. It's fine with him as long as Hakkai really wants what's happening, as long as it isn't going to be her face that he pictures while Gojyo is touching him. Gojyo knows that if he's going to do this, then it has to be just the two of them, because he could never imagine doing this with anyone but Hakkai - he wouldn't be brave enough.

Still, even as Gojyo begins, the ghosts linger, and Hakkai doesn't seem quite willing to let them go; it's almost understandable, after all, they have been a part of his life for so long, part of his soul. But Gojyo is patient, and even though he is almost certain that his hands aren't as soft or as gentle as they could be, and that perhaps his mouth is too strong, too anxious, he whispers all the soft, comforting words that he knows - precious few - as his hands trace every inch of Hakkai's porcelain flesh; it's so pale in the darkness, and shining with sweat, nearly translucent. Gojyo can almost see the bones and blood and shadows moving underneath.

Gojyo's fingers caress tense muscles pulled tight over pale bone, coaxing them into relaxation until he can ease Hakkai backwards, supporting his head as it hits the pillow, fingers tangled in sienna hair as he works the other against the defiant button on Hakkai's jeans.

 

Gojyo's lips and Gojyo's tongue, like hot, liquid velvet, slide down Hakkai's neck and kiss a trail across the sharp rise of his collar bone, waking a warmth in Hakkai's body that he hasn't felt in longer than he can properly remember, making him aware of every individual cell and molecule in his body pulling him towards Gojyo as if Gojyo's body were an enormously powerful magnet.

The intensity of his desire terrifies him. There doesn't seem to be enough of Gojyo to touch, enough to taste; he wants to crawl inside the protective shell of Gojyo's skin, be absorbed by him, devoured.

Their lips press together, hesitantly at first, then searchingly as they explore the texture of one another's lips and tongues. Hakkai's body quickly dissolves into sensations, tastes and textures both new and long-forgotten. Bolts of electricity run up and down Hakkai's spine as Gojyo's hands travel the length of his body, low - precariously, alarmingly low - gliding across the fabric of his jeans and sending a jolt of pleasure through Hakkai's body so strong that it bows his spine and makes his world white around the edges.

All at once it occurs to Hakkai what is really happening, and he can't breathe. It feels like Gojyo's hands are pushing through his skin and picking him apart piece by piece, destroying the walls in his mind and body that he's worked for so long to build for his own protection as much as the protection of others.

Hakkai throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and choking on a mouthful of saliva as Gojyo's eager fingers finally manage to slip below his waistband.

 

“Don't!”

Gojyo stops at hearing the panic in Hakkai's voice, his lips hovering just above the sensitive junction of flesh where Hakkai's neck meets his shoulder. He can't stop now, he thinks, it's far too late.

“What's wrong Hakkai?” he whispers, touching the cool metal of power limiters with his lips, tracing the ridge of Hakkai's ear with his tongue, as his hand caresses and then gently squeezes Hakkai's hipbone. He knows that Hakkai is excited, ready, but he also knows that the body can act without the permission of the mind. He prays silently that Hakkai won't say “stop”, he couldn't stand being turned away now, he's so invested…he can hardly believe how badly he wants this.

“It…” Hakkai swallows thickly, taking deep gasping breaths through his mouth like a drowning man seeking air, “It hurts…”

Gojyo laughs softly, finally managing to release the clasp on Hakkai's jeans, which makes the muscles in his stomach jump beneath the tightness of that terrible scar, and his breath exhale in a sharp gasp. This is where Gojyo stops, just for a moment, he doesn't want to go further than Hakkai is willing; he suddenly wants this more badly than he ever thought that he would to be something that will last beyond this night.

“You just have to ride it Hakkai,” he urges, stroking the skin where it's pulled tight across the old wound. Years ago his hands had pressed there, slick with blood, desperate to keep Hakkai's life from leaking out. Now he wants to do the same for his desire. Maybe it's stupid to think that Hakkai would want him this way.

“I'll go as slow as you want Hakkai…but please trust me, don't make me stop.”

 

Trust? There are very few people who Hakkai trusts, but Gojyo is one, maybe the one he trusts the most. He trusts Gojyo not to hurt him, but he can't trust himself. He keeps his eyes shut because he doesn't want to see the look on Gojyo's face, the tender need, and that dangerous emotion.

“I can't love you Gojyo…” he chokes softly, his heart twisting like a living creature in his chest at the admission, “Everyone I love gets hurt.”

 

Hakkai's eyes are squeezed desperately shut, his breath sobbing in and out, his chest heaving.

His words don't surprise Gojyo; he learned long ago that he could never expect to be loved.

There are tears pooled in the wells of Hakkai's eyes, and Gojyo uses his tongue to lick them away, enjoying the faint salty taste. This is the way, he thinks, that real lovemaking should secretly taste. There is love here, even if Hakkai is afraid to accept it.

“Hakkai…”

Hakkai's eyes flutter open impossibly wide, impossibly green even in the darkness, filled with and equal mixture of sorrow and longing.

“It's okay Hakkai,” Gojyo brushes his friend's dark bangs off his sweat-slicked forehead, “Everyone I love hurts me. I don't mind a little pain.”

Hakkai's hands come up and tangle through Gojyo's hair, pulling his face down until their foreheads touch and Gojyo can't escape the intensity of Hakkai's eyes.

“I don't want to hurt you Gojyo…please understand.”

“Don't worry about it right now Hakkai,” Gojyo pleads, “We don't have to call it love tonight, this doesn't have to be love right now - comfort, let it be comfort tonight.”

 

Comfort. He needs it so badly, but he doesn't deserve it.

Looking into Gojyo's eyes, Hakkai realizes that he isn't the only one who needs comforting; there's a part of Gojyo that is like Hakkai's heart, empty and lonely, a wound that will not heal, a need for something tender, for someone to say “it's alright.”

Gojyo may say that he doesn't mind a little pain, but Hakkai knows that that's not the truth; there is so much pain in Gojyo's heart already, years of it built up, Hakkai fears that any more might make it burst.

But as much as Hakkai fears that what is happening will hurt Gojyo, he knows that it would hurt him more to deny him this night, and Hakkai needs the comfort as much as Gojyo does.

Just one night can't hurt.

One night could be beautiful if he lets it.

“Forgive me…”

“What?” Gojyo's breath is hot against his neck.

“Please don't think that I'm using you Gojyo, just because I - I've…”

“Got a serious case of blue balls?” Gojyo laughs, half teasing, but half hurt, “Forget about it Hakkai…it doesn't matter because I want this…I want you.”

His words are so thick with truth, those red eyes so nakedly honest - more honest than Hakkai has ever seen them. `I want you', how long has it been since anyone has said that to him? There is no one else in the world but Gojyo, Hakkai knows in his heart, who would want him the way that his is now, a murderer, a sinner. But Gojyo doesn't see the sins, or the blood on his hands, only a living man, a man who has not been touched, been loved, in far too long.

“I don't think I remember how to do this…”

Gojyo laughs, touching his face gently, tenderly, “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“I guess not…not like this.”

Gojyo kisses his jaw, following the line from just below his ear to his chin, his lips brushing Hakkai's as fleetingly as a butterfly's wings on a windowpane, “Don't worry, I'm sure it's just like riding a bike.”

They kiss, slowly and searchingly, their lips trembling with uncertainty. Doubts linger in the back of Hakkai's mind, but first his desire, and then his curiosity, slowly take over.

Gojyo pulls away, sitting upright, straddling Hakkai's waist with his warm thighs, and pulls his shirt up over his head, playfully throwing it down over Hakkai's face like a veil.

“No peeking,” he warns in a singsong voice.

“W-what are you going to do?” Hakkai's heart flutters with sudden panic.

There's a moment's hesitation, and then Gojyo laughs nervously, “It feels kinda weird undressing in front of you…so just gimme a minute, okay?”

Gojyo then rises off the bed, and Hakkai is shocked by how much he finds himself missing the warmth of his body. Obligingly - and at first partially out of his own lingering fear - he does not peek; instead, he buries his face in the fabric of Gojyo's shirt and inhales the sweet, musky smell of his skin, trembling with fearful anticipation. He can feel his own arousal - a half-forgotten sensation - achingly tight through the fabric of his boxers, harbouring a guilty wish that Gojyo had finished undressing him first. He burns to be touched, and he digs his fingers into the fabric of Gojyo's shirt, resisting the urge to bring relief for himself, even though he hasn't masturbated since he was a teenager; the desire is terrifyingly strong after denying himself even the thought of physical pleasure for so very long.

He hears Gojyo exhale a soft sigh, punctuated by the sound of fabric falling to the floor, and he can no longer resist, he pushes the shirt away from his face and turns his head to look.

Gojyo's skin has an olive hue in the rain-blurred light from the widow; his tan is uninterrupted from his hairline through to the swell of his groin and down to the tips of his toes. Hakkai has always known Gojyo to be confident, but standing there, naked and aroused, he looks more nervous than Hakkai has ever seen him, his hands lying awkwardly at his sides as if at any moment he might try to cover himself in shame. Hakkai pushes himself up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and reaches out for Gojyo, taking his hand and pulling him close. Gojyo climbs on to the bed on his knees, his palms are damp with sweat, and he is shaking just a little, not enough to notice just by looking, but Hakkai can feel it through his skin.

When had he become so nervous? It isn't fair for him to be afraid when he was the one who started it. But somehow it comforts Hakkai to know that they are both uncertain.

Wanting to put Gojyo at ease as much as himself, Hakkai stands up, bracing himself on the headboard for a moment as he tries to find his balance on the soft mattress, and removes what is left of his clothing; it takes only a moment. Gojyo pulls him down onto his knees, and they sit, naked, aroused, and uncertain, with what seems like an endless stretch of fears between them.

 

Gojyo shuts out the tiny voice in the back of his head that is trying so hard to tell him how crazy this is as his eyes travel the length of Hakkai's body, admiring the simple perfection of his flesh behind the old scars left by countless battles.

He has no idea where to begin.

A kiss seems best, touching in other ways is suddenly too frightening, so he leans forward and brushes his lips against Hakkai's, pulling back before either of them can get a good taste, but not far, separating their faces by a sharp breath. Hakkai's hand caresses his face, running over the raised scars on his cheek. The touch sends a cascade of warmth through Gojyo's body and finally allows his desire to take over. They tumble back onto the mattress, their bodies pressing together, a thrilling heat passing between them. Hakkai's body moves enticingly against Gojyo's own, his hardness rubbing against the hollow of Gojyo's hip, making Gojyo gasp and grunt.

“Gods Hakkai…you feel so good…”

Hakkai is panting, although he is moving with eagerness, there is almost as much fear in his eyes as there is desire, and Gojyo touches him tenderly, longingly, soothingly; it doesn't matter that he has absolutely no idea what he is doing - he knows well enough what kind of touches feel good in which places. He kisses Hakkai's cheek, his chin, the pulse in his neck, each and every jutting line of rib bone beneath shivering flesh; working his way slowly downward to the focal point of all Hakkai's energy. He knows that he is delaying the moment, that part of him is still afraid of what was going to happen, that something might go wrong.

“Does this feel good Hakkai?” he asks softly, running his tongue along the rise of Hakkai's hip bone, “Talk to me, please, let me know you're there.”

 

“Let me know you're there.”

Hakkai feels adrift on a sea of sensation, his mind spiralling out of his control, mixing fear with raw excitement, trying to shut down, shut out all the sensations that he was never supposed to feel again. Gojyo's voice becomes an anchor for his mind. He cannot lose this moment, cannot let it go to waste, not when Gojyo is willing to give him so damn much.

“Yes…” he manages breathlessly as Gojyo's tongue slides in a scorching line along his hip bone.

“And this?” Gojyo's hand slips beneath his testicles, cradling them.

This time, Hakkai can only answer with a moan.

“Good…” he can hear Gojyo's smile as his fingers, almost painfully hot, play across his testicles and up his shaft.

Hakkai lifts his head and looks down the disorienting length of his own body finding that Gojyo has his penis in his hands, his head bent low so that his every breath is stimulating to the aching, throbbing flesh.

“Can I?” he whispers.

It takes a minute for Hakkai to realise what Gojyo is asking, “I've never…”

“It's amazing,” Gojyo promises, licking his lips hungrily “You'll love it.”

Hakkai gasps as Gojyo's moist lips slide along the length of his erection, the burning cavern of Gojyo's mouth and throat consuming him. His whole body shivers with the sensation, and his muscles twist and clench almost against his will. Gojyo's hands clutch at his hips, holding him down while at the same time stimulating skin that has become incredibly receptive to his touch. Hakkai's body feels like a giant battery, an enormous exposed nerve ending, raw pleasure running in a wild circuit from his toes all the way to his eyeballs, blurring the world as he digs his fingernails into the mattress and arches his back, panicked by the thought of releasing himself in Gojyo's mouth even as Gojyo moans encouragements and then accepts it almost greedily when it comes.

The release is surreal - after so many years his mind and body had forgotten utterly that perfect moment of throbbing nothingness. All his pain seemed to pour out of him, out with the sweat from his pores, the seed from his loins and the stray tears that still leaked from the corners of his eyes.

Gojyo releases him, crawling up across his body, stroking and kissing until they are face to face, his hair hanging between them and the world like a red velvet curtain.

Hakkai can't believe the look on Gojyo's face, unlike anything he has ever seen before, soft, raw, and frighteningly beautiful.

He is still hard; Hakkai can feel it pressing against his thigh.

He reaches down, fingers tingling, but Gojyo stops him.

“You don't have to Hakkai.”

“But I want to…” he whispers, letting his fingers trace the lines of muscle in Gojyo's abs, the stray scars, “Can't I try?”

There is something almost afraid in his eyes, which seems so strange. Wasn't he the one who had started all this? Did it really matter?

“Okay…” Gojyo says finally.

Gojyo lowers himself onto the bed, seeming reluctant to give up his dominant position atop him, rolling himself slowly onto his back.

This is probably the most vulnerable he has allowed himself to be in years, and Hakkai treats his willingness as a precious gift.

Hakkai works his way delicately down Gojyo's body with gentle kisses, tasting the sweat on his brown skin, hot and salty. Within moments Gojyo is going along with him, moaning urgently. Hakkai runs a hand over Gojyo's arousal, hard and so hot it almost burns his palm. He continues to move downwards, nervous but eager, encouraged by Gojyo's soft, anxious moans. He can feel energy building up in Gojyo's body, radiating out from his solar plexus in dizzying waves and he rubs his face across the sweat-slicked skin, shivering with the power.

Gojyo's phallus throbs in his hands, a heartbeat, fervent and willing as he takes it into his mouth, allowing it to nestle against the cradle of his tongue and into the hollow of his throat where it seems to fit perfectly. Gojyo threads his fingers through Hakkai's hair, puling so hard it almost hurts, but the sensation only serves to encourage Hakkai to take him in deeper, to liquefy the muscles of his throat, to fuel that unrelenting desire to pull Gojyo inside himself and never let him go.

Gojyo's release is liquid fire into his throat, salty and bitter, with an undertone of something spicy and exotic. Hakkai doesn't stop working the organ with his tongue and lips until Gojyo is soft and slippery, his body shivering uncontrollably on the mattress, his breath gasping.

 

Hakkai crawls up the bed and curls next to him, around him, carefully, timidly sliding an arm across his chest, and kissing the thundering pulse in his neck.

“Thank you Gojyo…”

Gojyo laughs, he can't help it, “You know, I don't normally do stuff like that with people I respect…”

“Why not?”

“Too much investment. If I don't have to think about the person they are inside their skin, then it's easy for me to walk away.”

 

Suddenly, Hakkai is afraid. He can't imagine losing this moment, the sweet, peaceful afterglow, his body still tingling with the dregs of pleasure as the sweat cools on his skin, raising goose bumps.

But that's how it should be, isn't it? After all, he was the one who said it couldn't be love, and Gojyo deserves someone who can love him, not someone who is using him to chase away the shadows of the past.

“Forget what I said. I'll be here whenever you need me Hakkai,” Gojyo says gently, tracing his fingers fearfully alone the warm ridges of Hakkai's ribs; Hakkai thinks, for a moment, that Gojyo can read his mind, “Unless you want this to be the only time…”

He isn't strong enough, or sure enough of himself to promise Gojyo any more nights like this one just yet, but he can't turn the prospect away either. This isn't a time to think about the future or the past, he can only think of this moment, and the warmth of Gojyo's body.

“Thank you…” the words are useless, but they are the only ones that he knows to express everything and nothing of what he feels inside, to give Gojyo something of what he deserves while still keeping himself safe.

Gojyo doesn't say anything in response, Hakkai can't tell if he's grateful or disappointed, but he pulls Hakkai close, wrapping the blanket around the both of them to keep out the chill that's creeping into the air. Their bodies seem to intertwine ridge and hollow, as if they are two matching pieces of a puzzle, the whole of which is far too big to see. But here, the big picture doesn't matter anymore; all that matters is that, for the first time in years, a pair of warm, living arms holds Hakkai as he is lulled to sleep by the steady thrum of Gojyo's heartbeat finally drowning out the terrible sound of the rain.