"I could take you apart..." Sanzo/Gojyo. And the farthest thing from fluff.
"I could take you apart and put you back together, and no one would ever know," Sanzo growled into his ear. Because Sanzo is a crazy fuck that says stuff like that when he has your dick in his hand and a gun in arm's reach. It's soft and low this time, as if sharing some sweet declaration of love, warm breath on already heated skin.
Gojyo felt his lips curl into a sneer, nails digging into the palms of his hands.
He'd like to force that look off the monk's face, twist it up into something worse or maybe better. But they had their games that they played-truths and dares and waiting to crash. The half-breed could feel the warming iron around his wrists, guidelines to their current playing field, his hands tangled up in his own weapon.
All to keep his holiness pleased for that moment of time. Sanzo liked things to be uneven as long as he was the one looking down, would probably keep himself a head above the gods if he could be bothered to give it a try. The blond had settled for one wise-ass horny water-sprite instead.
Superiority complex didn't even begin to cover it.
Gojyo snorted and could see Sanzo's eyes narrow as the blonde sat back. "Something amusing about this?"
"Sorry, Sanzo-/hime/. Just thinking about our laundry list," Gojyo said with a smirk. "Y'know...just trying to keep myself awake."
"That so?" was the calm reply.
Then the hand on his cock tightened that much more for a second, making the redhead's hips try to pull two ways at once. The chains rattled against splintering wood like a laughing tune, one that rang through his mind.
Gojyo huffed, glaring up from beneath blood-rust strands. "Asshole."
Sanzo shrugged a shoulder, not bothering to deny it. They both knew exactly what they were.
The hand let up, and Gojyo bit back first a sigh, then a moan as it moved over his arousal, slow strokes of malice while Sanzo wore that ever-so-smug expression. His other hand traced over the redhead's ribs, stopping to press too hard over a still healing bone, before coming to grip the sharp arc of his hip.
The bed protested when Sanzo shifted, knee automatically nudging Gojyo's leg open wider. It didn't even require thought anymore, the act itself, and it was almost an afterthought on it's own.
What really mattered, where the real challenge was...
The monk leaned another breath forward, one eyebrow raised in speculation. "I should have chained you up while you were on your stomach," he mused, a flash of teeth the only sign of his amusement; if that's what it could be called.
"So I wouldn't have to look at you? Didn't know you were so thoughtful, monk," Gojyo grinned, stretching one leg out in a leisurely fashion and feeling his knee snap.
Sanzo's eye twitched at that and the half-breed's grin widened.
Point to him.
"Then why are you /here/," Sanzo challenged, every angle of his body saying 'instead of with /him/'. It was all about reading between the lines.
Hands pulled his hips up and forward suddenly, nothing but spit and sweat to ease the way as the monk thrust forward with a grunt.
"Fuck," Gojyo half-shouted, the muscles of his arms straining to break away while hands attempted to slip free of their bindings. "Fuck," he said again, this time in a long moan. "Whatever...happened to warning a guy?"
Sanzo might have answered with one smart-ass comment or another, but Gojyo couldn't hear it. Not over the harsh pants and fast beat tempo of his blood in his ears as he met each thrust and snap. Not over the sudden round of laughter from some room far away-probably the bar-or the familiar echoing of footsteps in the hall. All of the outside world blocked off from view, separated by thin walls and a lust for more. More fighting, more fucking, more payment for the things they'd lost. The things they'd never had.
No one knows but us, Gojyo thought and had his answers, bright as day.
Why he was here, why he would never stop it.
Down to the fact that he couldn't stop it-any of this-the sneers or the curses or the pleasure/pain ache. Not yet. There were too many silent challenges to meet, some to be stomped on and others to lightly tread, that no one else would take up.
Thought of Hakkai for a moment, soft smiled and sharp-eyed green, and thought 'this is a mistake'. This could be slower, better, no less full of life, with him. Hakkai, who could shape and create and destroy and end up with something beautiful in the end. Gojyo didn't have that ability. There had never been anyone to practice on, had never been a use for it in his life. All he could do was clear half-covered paths and leave charmed messes behind with easy smiles that sometimes reached the eyes-yet something was always ruined by the final step.
Sometimes them, sometimes himself. And it was never beautiful, in the end.
But Sanzo had always been wrecked and Gojyo was born falling.
So horribly imperfect that he had to work. Eventually.
The two of them couldn't stand each other outside this, gave gifts of bullet holes mingled with contempt. To fold now, before nothing was left and with no way to see what happened when the dust cleared...where would that leave him?
He could do any number of things now, strategy mixed with instincts as this game wore on, with no guilt or shame cluttering his way. He could kick and dodge, grin and shrug. All until they reached a crossroads or their journey ended, where life would pick back up in a small apartment with a green-eyed man that hated the idea of being out of control, who would pick him up and dust him off every time around.
Blunt teeth scraped against the line of his jaw, tracing the line of his scars. Whispering venom like prayers. Pushing, deeper and farther until there was no place else to go but back down.
Changing the rules by a whim, to make it almost impossible.
Someday, even if he lost-
A low hiss, gold mingling with scarlet. "I could put you back wrong and no one would know the difference."
-the last laugh was going be his.
"I could take you apart and no one would /care/."