Characters From: Saiyuki
Written For: springkink
Prompt: Gojyo/Hakkai: hard and fast fucking - use me up
Word Count: 915
Warnings: some graphic sexuality, language, angst, more or less a PWP
Summary: um, mid journey man-smut, Gojyo-ish
Disclaimer: Sadly, Saiyuki does not belong to me.
A/N: Thank you akuchan_47 & lyradaemon
for the beta jobs! I touched this last, so any remaining mistakes are my own.
It's been a long week. Hell, it's been a long year. Or maybe the week just seemed so long and tedious and full of those fucking mindless youkai that it feels like it's been a year. That has to be it. There's no way in hell you've been traveling around for a year. Right?
Yeah, just one long ass week, the longest on record and the worst too, but things are about to change, 'cause now you've got a roof over your head and pillows that could be under it and if you want to look at the night sky you just look out the window instead of peeking out that annoying tent flap that always makes a hell of a lot of noise when the wind picks up.
It may not be the softest mattress, but it'll do, especially now. It's not like you're gonna get any sleep. You can't sleep on your stomach, and certainly not on your hands and knees, and even if you could, why would you when something hard and cold and wet is pushing its way inside you, invading that which you never thought would be invaded. Hell, can you really call it invading if it's what you've wanted all along?
There, you admit it finally. You just want it. You want, you want, you want. That's always how it is. You wanted your mother to love you. You want your brother to be a brother again, not your enemy. You want to give and give and give because that's all you've ever known and now you've finally found someone who is willing to take you, all of you, because that too is all he's ever known.
And he does take, with every thrust and every stroke; every slap of flesh against flesh drives the point home. You give, he takes. You moan and groan and grit your teeth because it hurts; not so much the act itself, but the realization. You've always been the user, but not anymore and suddenly it doesn't seem so bad. In fact, it seems too good.
You smile and moan out that name that seems so perfectly suited for moaning. You push back against that hard cock that somehow managed to make its way inside you just like that calculated smile and that polite laugh worked their way under your skin so that every time you closed your eyes you saw those lips and every silence wasn't really silent because you could still hear that laugh.
The bed is really moving now, thumping heavily against the wall just like he is slamming into you. The monk's gonna be pissed in the morning, but you don't give a shit because the monk will never understand. You're pretty sure he no longer remembers what it's like to give. He's a taker too and for the briefest moment you wonder if you could've given yourself to him, but then you hear your named purred through those fantastic lips and you realize that even if you could you never actually would.
This, you know, is where you belong. You've known it since the first time you laid eyes on him, but back then you couldn't bring yourself to believe it. Now though, you know better.
You know that hand tangled in your long fiery hair is there as much for pleasure as it is to let you know that you are his. You know that every kiss he places upon your back leaves an invisible mark that stakes his claim and that each bite and scratch leaves more noticeable ones for anyone who'd dare to look.
He wants to be assured that you are here to stay and you want to tell him that you are, but now isn't exactly the time for pretty words. All you can do is pant and moan and groan every time his cock pushes deep inside you, hitting that one perfect spot that makes you shudder, makes you bury your face into the nearest pillow to keep yourself from screaming out his name, or worse, something else entirely; something that scares you more than the thought of leaving or being left behind.
Luckily the hand that is wrapped around your cock is making it hard for you to think further on such matters. Thinking has never really been your strong point anyway, but fucking, now that's something you can do and so you push back hard until every inch of that sly brunette's cock is deep inside you while his hand works eagerly to milk your orgasm from your body and when it finally hits, you shudder and moan and curse and try oh so very hard not to crumble into a mess of limbs and fire red hair, which you manage pretty well until you feel his warm release inside you.
After that, well, it doesn't really matter, does it? After that you can collapse down onto that crappy mattress that will always provide a better night's sleep then rocks and twigs. At least there's a pillow under your head. At least his body, heavy with exhaustion and slick with sweat, is lying beside you now. And even though your head is spinning and your breathing is harsh and you know you could fall asleep in an instant you don't want this to end; not now, not ever.
You've been waiting all this time -- a week, a month, a lifetime -- and you have so much more to give.