Also watching, reminding. It was what he deserved. A companion piece or sequel to "And she said", so you might want to read that first. Dark themes ahead, including mental abuse.
Part of it was because they didn't like each other, couldn't even stand each other most of the time. And they were never meant to. They clashed in all the wrong places, cool water and cherry-ember ashes. Put the two together, he thought, and you ended up with a horrible mess stuck to the bottom of your boot.
Gojyo wondered why he thought fucking- getting fucked by, whatever- the man would make things any simpler. Or why his holy eminence even considered it in the first place. It certainly didn't help his Closer-To-God image, sleeping with the taboo child. And he probably just answered his own question there, or part of it at least.
The smug bastard. Gojyo eyed the lump of bones and blankets next to him for a moment before turning his attention back to the ceiling, the smoke curling up towards it in slow, lazy movements.
It wasn't even pleasant most of the time, not that he cared, really. Fast, hard, with skin on skin and snarls and nails leaving red lines behind again and again. Which was fine, as long as he didn't see the marks.
As long as they weren't on his face.
"Ch." Gojyo snorted and leaned back on one hand. There was a muttered curse from the other man as the bed dipped slightly but it wasn't enough to warrant more than that. "Was I always this much of an idiot?"
Gojyo looked over his shoulder, a stream of red flickering at the corner of his vision as he turned. Shadows, stretched thin as the night wore on. A couple cobwebs nestled into deep corners.
Ignoring the prickling feeling at the back of his neck, the half-demon let his eyes drift back to his quickly disappearing cigarette. He was used to that, by now. The feeling of icy breath against his back, in his ear. Phantom claws that wouldn't leave him alone.
Paper blackened, ashes fell.
Just like you should have.
As if he didn't know. Kicking his feet back onto the bed, he let an arm rest on one bent knee and stomped on the urge to cover himself. He wasn't some self-conscious teenager that-
Cares about what Mother thinks. It always did, filthy creature.
-blushed at the thought of his cock hanging out.
It was just that sometimes. Sometimes he remembered too clearly, saw her standing there with dilated eyes and lank hair and that smile that killed him. Watched her watch him- as he gave in, submitted, bared his throat.
All to Sanzo, who had that same smile sometimes, the same look in the eyes- covered with light bangs but allowing him a glimpse now and then. Maybe that's why he didn't fight nearly enough as he should've or demanded that much more.
He couldn't. Not then, not now.
Not with that look directed at him, two people over-lapping at times.
Shaking his head, Gojyo ground his smoke out on the cheap bedside table and flopped back noisily on the bed, making it rock.
"Asshole," Sanzo growled as he rolled over- onto- in a move that was a bit too fast for someone supposedly asleep a second ago. "I told you not to wake me up."
"Aww, does Sanzo-hime need his beauty sleep?" Gojyo purred, a smirk planted firmly on his face. "It's your fault for making us leave so damn early, you corrupt monk."
Don't make a sound, stay out of sight.
Lie back and enjoy the ride
And he did, because Sanzo's mouth was trying to suck the air out of his lungs and his tongue curling around his like a vice so what choice did he have? Especially when paper-sharp hands were pushing and tugging at his hips, leaving jagged little cuts that were never there when he checked later. Not when blunt fingers pushed inside- /claws, against his face/- and curled like his tongue.
Bitter ash taste, cool flesh, sharp pain mixed with pleasure.
Gojyo wondered, idly, if Sanzo actually enjoyed the mess they made of each other.
Something laughed, wicked and lost.
Gojyo ignored it, like he ignored a lot of things, and it was easy. Play pretend like you did when you were a kid, when you played in shadows and were ignored yourself. Just a ghost, a spirit, watching from the sidelines.
The laughter was slightly hysterical, ironic, triumphant. He didn't try to hear it, didn't say a thing except 'more' and 'harder'. That was all he needed to say.
Rough and brutal -/love/- lust, after all, was what he-
Anyone could see that.