A/N: Okay so this is a response to the fourth Saiyuki reload manga. I went along with the whole southern accent they gave him in the manga, because it suited him. For some reason, I can totally see him as one of those southern belles that are always cheating on their husbands, and walking around with an umbrella everywhere they go…his hat is kinda like an umbrella…right? Okay I'll shut up now.
I never noticed it before, but Gato has a rebellious streak lately. He's being stubborn, and sometimes he talks to me like I'm some child. A child, really. He should know his place, and he does know. Many times he has demonstrated to me his knowledge of his position, and yet he still questions me. All I need is his protection. He is to always protect me. Me. I'm the one thing that matters to him, the only thing in the world. I am his world, his light, his salvation, his redemption, and in keeping that in mind he shouldn't disobey me. I'm…
His…
"Gato, would you be a dear and peel me an orange." I make him do menial tasks that account for nothing, nothing holy, nothing sacred, except my pleasure. He bows his heads, and it sets my heart aflutter the way he does it --He's the only one who can drag me out of my mood, and he's the only one who can put me right back-- It's perfect. Perfect submission, and he knows his part so well, so well that it pleases me. He looks up at me from under his bandana, his yellow stare so different from the common rambler --I see in every town, in every street-- so much stronger, so focused, so obedient, so thrilling.
He bows his head lower, and his eyes vanish behind shadows. The two long lines under his eyes are suddenly sharp in the light reflected from the bulb overhead.
Dangerous.
I can hear it like a shrill cry in the inky darkness behind my eyes. He's aware of this too. He knows I understand something inside of him, and he bows his head lower as a fitting image of subservience.
My protector. My very own knight in shining armor. I like the idea that he was born for me, and on nights like this when the moon is low and bright like a firefly about to be captured in a glass jar, I open my arms and let him into my best of graces.
I sit on the edge of the bed and wait, but it won't take long. He walks over stiffly --like he always does when faced with my whims-- and sits down on the floor between my legs, which helps immensely with the height difference.
He's facing me, and his brown head comes up to my throat. We sit quietly for those few minutes, as we reacquaint ourselves with this position --the sounds of the moist wind outside, and the howl of a mangy dog collecting like rainwater in the noisy roof gutters.
He breathes in, and I discard my gloves with the aid of a couple firm tugs from my teeth. He takes my hand, and completely enfolds it in his, like a shield. His fingers rough and hard, like the youkai souls, which I use to construct them. They gently cradle my own, a gentleness that he uses only on nights when the wall are thick and quiet. He holds it before his face, and I give him the inspiration by way of stare, to touch his forehead to the smooth skin on the back of the held palm. The bandana is in the way, and my annoyance with it is shuttered, when I deftly pick the knot that binds it, to watch it fall to the floor. He lets me do as I please, and rubs his naked forehead against my hand.
"My, my, you're always such a darling." His eyes are closed, and he's moving his face over my hand, like the skin there is better at describing the flesh of my hand than his strong eyes. I don't comment. His nose is pressing into my skin. The pressure firm and warm, and I think about what a loyal hound my Gato would present to anyone who walked in right now. The pressure is now gone, replaced by a mouth that traces over the thin bones in my hand. I let out a pleased sigh, and he breaths in.
He kisses me once there, and my other hand, which hasn't been getting nearly as much attention, flutters over my heart. I can feel it beat; thrumming like a small animal, and I've always believed I love these instances when Gato proves his devotion has many forms.
"Such a good man. Sweet and repentant." Like no other.
I grasp the back of his head and I gently --as gentle as he can be-- guide his face into the crook of my neck. He lets go off my hand, and both his arms --arms that have crushed bone, torn flesh, scraped blood-- are now wrapped around my waist and lower back. I reciprocate the embrace, my hands sliding up his broad back, one perching itself on his wide shoulders, as the other smoothly cups the back of his head.
"It has been awhile since I've indulged this." I stroke one lock of his hair, and Gato presses another kiss this time to my throat.
"Oh, how you make my heart beat." His mouth roves over the soft skin of my throat, and his hands tighten around my back. He barely talks, even when we are going through the motions of nights like these --he talks only when he thinks I have missed some information that might…affect me in the future-- but when he does, those are the moments that aggravate me. Those are the times I have come to hate more and more. It was in those moments that Gato stopped being my knight, stopped being my guard dog, and started questioning my motives and authority. Those were the times when he treated me like a…child.
Curling my hands in his hair, I pull until I can see his eyes looking up at me.
"I'd like you to go on, and remember something." I pause, and this time my hand has slipped around from his head, and is now cupping his cheek. "You'd do that for me, wouldn't you?" He nods his head, and I'm pleased at the promptness of his faith in me.
"Whenever a question pops into your head," my hand leaves his cheek, as I drag a lone finger up the side of his face, coming to stop at the side of his temple. I tap there twice for emphasis, "make sure it doesn't get past these." I place my finger over his mouth, and I smile.
"Shhh." I love the quietness that radiates from this man. These past days have been so loud and fretful, to be able to have such absolute silence all to myself.
I fan myself, and sitting forward into his arms, I peck him on the cheek.
"Oh Gato, there isn't a moment when I don't thank God for your strength and propriety. Such good manners, and such ability."
I like to flatter him, because unlike any of those, who I've paid hollow compliments to, he never says anything, only stares at me with eyes like an animal --so thoughtful and peaceful-- and nods his head. And unlike any of those other false compliments, the ones I pay to him are always true.
A/N: I might write another chapter, if I get enough people who like it, and by that I mean reviews.
