A/N: Dislcaimer: Saiyuki isn't mine!
I actually wrote this a long time ago, on my Sacramento trip, in a Pep Boys parking lot. It overlooked an Adult book/video/toystore, and I had Stephen Lynch's "Gay" in my head. Maybe that'll explain some of it.
Warnings: Excessive language, shounen-ai, minor ooc.
Just a little one-shot from Gojyo's point of view on cards and the effect of sake on one's common sense.
Reviews always welcome - please tell me how I can improve! Enjoy
***
I don't think I'll ever catch the appeal in Loli. Full-grown women dressed in frilly outfits with parasols and oversized bows -don't- look cute. They're disturbing. Unfortunately, I appear to be the only roaming, eligible bachelor to think that way. God, even the whores are giggling behind their lace. Whatever happened to the good old tunic-and-bodice? Gentle curves and cotton blouses? Skirts with only -one- layer of fabric? These overgrown children are disgusting.
I head toward the inn we're using for the night. The owner's wife is sweet looking; pretty enough to watch and well dressed to suit her common sense. Of course, all the bright ones are married, but she'll be good to watch as I get drunk off my rocker. She smiles at me as I enter the frontroom, and gets me a seat at one of the back tables. There's liquor waiting for me, and a good, empty ashtray. I knew I liked her. She's good at reading people, knowing what they want and having it ready at will. She'd probably be an excellent gambler, if women were up for such a thing.
The jug's already half-empty as I light a cigarette, not savoring the flavor of nicotine like Sanzo would because I'm too cheap for that. But the buzz comes soon enough, hot and heady in my throat. That's what I smoke for.
I down another glass when an identical cup is set by the sake jug. "Mind if I join you?"
Hakkai's not really a big drinker, so the whole cup thing is just a formality, for the look of it. So was asking. He pulls a deck of cards from his pocket with a customary smile. It's not like Hakkai to initiate a game, and I mention it.
"Oh," he replies, "Sanzo-sama is tired of you whining about being broke so he told me to keep you from gambling. Since that's not about to happen," he adds, noting my snort of derision, "We're going to play until morning comes. Or you're too drunk to tell a diamond from a spade."
I grin. "Sure you want to do that?" Hakkai says nothing, but flexes his hands and deals.
*
God, I love that woman. Every time I empty a jug, she's right there with another full one. And even though I haven't beaten the green-eyed bastard -once-, I'm floating sky-high. Stopped smoking a while ago 'cause I burned myself and I'd rather focus on the cards anyhow. Except that, too, has become increasingly hard to do. I begin to drink a little less so he'll stay a little longer.
It's almost impossible to get Hakkai to play cards with me. So this, this corner table with endless supplies of good sake and smokes, is more than a hot commodity. It's paradise.
Only thing that'd make it better is a good lay, and now that I've thought it, I just can't stop. My words are more slurred than they ought to be. I ought not be saying them. But, well, I'm happy and comfortable, and this is Hakkai. He won't point the gun at me, won't jeer or poke. So it's safe enough.
Over my wobbling hand, I say, "Maybe it's the sake, but if I were gay I'd want you so bad."
He freezes, utterly sober and appraisingly aware of how I get when I'm drunk. How unmercifully horny six or seven jugs can make me. Indiscriminately so, at times. And I'll just bet he's wondering how to fight me off if I try anything. I never have, but I just might.
He must not know half those sake jugs were secreted to the bottles in my boots. I've only got three in me, enough to buzz me up and blur my vision. Plus, his eye upon me has the effect of sobering a good two jugs out anyway. But he doesn't know that.
I continue blithely on, "Think of it. We've known each other for years and we hardly touch! Women hug alla time, but us big boys, nuh-uh." I blink muzzily at my hand and, as a kicker, ask, "Hey, Hak-kai, wha's this red thing onna corner of my cards?"
He looks convinced enough of my intoxication and pulls the cards out of yielding fingers. "It's a diamond, Gojyo," he explains, tucking the deck away inside his clothing. I'll have to find out where he puts those later.
Oh, that brought some thoughts to mind. All more or less naughty, and this...is...Hakkai I'm thinking about here. Maybe I -am- a bit too drunk for my own good. But, you know what, I'm going to roll with it, just this once. He's pretty enough, and I'll just...tease him a bit. He's a powerhouse inside a soft-spoken, gentle exterior, but that says nothing of inherent masculinity. I kind of want to push his limits.
So when he says, "Time to go, Gojyo," I lean heavy on him, staggering without clanking the bottles in my boots as I walk. Sake could come in handy later, when I drink to forget I ever attempted this. But it's oddly fun. He pays for me, and I smile at the owner's wife as my hands fuck with Hakkai's senses of decency and balance. Thumb his chest, under that sash he's always got on, until the nipple is almost rock-hard, then back off. And my other hand is firmly gripping his shoulder so he can't move away. Plus that, he'd drop poor drunk ol' Gojyo if he did.
I truly am insufferable sometimes. It's hard not to laugh as I stumble up the stairs with him, my hands 'slipping' every once in a while. He has a fantastic ass, really he does. I can't help but touch it every chance I get. Which is often, because he's concentrating on not letting us fall. Ooh, Hakkai on the horizontal.
Trip, baby, and I'll do you in the hallway.
I realize how true that is and stumble a little less. But that doesn't keep me from murmuring to him, just softly slurring his name. He leads me into my room and shuts the door. I'd expected him to leave me alone so I could -really- get drunk and just pass out. It was what I'd been planning.
But he turns to me and says, "I know you're not as drunk as you're putting on."
I freeze, shocked and dumbfounded. And embarrassed. "Why'd you play along then?"
He turns to the door and puts his forehead against it. "If you were gay, I wouldn't mind if you wanted me."
And, before I can stop it, my mouth runs away with me. "So you're..."
"It's not a matter of are or are not. I'm just saying I wouldn't mind." He looks defensive, frowning unfocusedly at the door. "Go on and tell me it's wrong to like being wanted."
And there comes a wave of pitiless sympathy rushing through me. He's wretched, but so am I. I know that feeling, I know that shameful need.
I wonder if I should touch him. Fuck that, I want to. So I lean down until my forehead rests on his neck and I can talk into his spine. "It's not wrong to want to be loved, Hakkai," I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. "Lots of good people love being loved. It's when you settle for being wanted that you get into trouble."
He stands silent beneath me for a while, then I feel his shoulders tense and he slams both fists against the door. Under normal circumstances, I'd back off. But we don't do this every day. I stand to full height and slide my hands down to his chest, resting my elbows on his shoulders and leaning his body against mine.
"Why so violent?"
He grips my hands with his own, squeezing but not pulling away. "Why not? Don't treat me like I'm a woman."
I almost laugh. "I don't," I reply, bending again to talk into his ear. "If you were a woman, I wouldn't have pretended a thing, you'd be screaming my name right now, and I wouldn't be having as much of a good time overall. Unless," I add as an afterthought, nipping the skin below my mouth, "you -want- to be just another meaningless fuck."
How he stayed so calm I'll never know. I was half-shaking at my own words and actions, shaken by disbelief and adrenaline. And he stood still as I spoke, hardly acknowledging my lips on his ear. I'm absolutely floored at his next words. "You imply there could be meaning, then."
His hands single out my right index and begin to work at the digit, pulling gently at muscles I didn't know I had. I opt for silence; my brain's really feeling the effects of forced sobriety in the face of too much sake now that I'm out of Hakkai's gaze. His hands move to the next finger, and the next, until he presses his thumbs into my palm and my lips close around the shell of his ear, half out of reflex. If it were anyone rougher than Hakkai, it would hurt.
"So you are implying it?" he goads, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
If my propensity for bad puns should choose to emerge at this moment, so be it! "It's not a matter of are or are not," I say, plunging my tongue into his ear as he reaches for my left hand. "If you can trust me, take whatever you want from it."
His pace hitched when I'd blown over the wetness I left, but it restarted methodically at the middle finger when I stopped to speak. As it is, he finishes the digits and pushes his thumbs into my palm, harder than on the right hand. Warmth floods my arm, my entire fucking -arm-. I want his hands on the rest of me, if they can do that to just my fingers.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" I ask, putting my free hand up against the door we're still facing.
"I'm just trying it out," he replies oh-so-innocently, leaving my left hand to wrap his fingers about my outstretched arm. He traces the raised veins with warm fingertips and says, "If I can trust you. How can I trust you?"
Uh-oh. I've got to tread carefully, because a fuck-up here ruins far more than my chances tonight. But I don't know what to say. The first bullshit to mind comes out unhindered. "I can't make you. I only say 'trust me' when I'm with a woman, and desperate. The circumstances evidently do not apply." I have to stop talking because he's somehow turned my elbow into an erogenous zone. It's just impolite to groan in the middle of a sentence.
He says, "Meaning you're not desperate?"
"Nor are you a woman," I counter, refusing to accede. "Trust me based on what you think, not what I say."
He pauses, reaches up, and grabs two fistfuls of my hair. And lets it siphon through soft fingers so I wonder if I imagined the pain. "I have two questions. Answer honestly. Will you leave in the morning?"
I'm focusing so hard on the words I almost miss what they mean. "Not if you don't ask me to." And I wouldn't, not with the prospects of a pre-breakfast boink. Now there's a thought.
Hakkai sighs; I can feel his body relaxing. "Do you want me?" He asks, emotionless in tone.
Before I can think, I murmur assent. He stiffens, and I tense as well, wondering if I've said the wrong thing. He moves quickly, pulling my hands from him and leaning forward against the door, groping for the knob.
Fucktard Gojyo, you fucking fucked it up! Time to go get -really-...I stop when I hear the lock click, my hand halfway to slapping my own forehead. He faces me for the first time since he put the cards away and I finally see how flushed he is. His mouth is full and red, hot and pretty. I recognize it, but thought only girls turn that pink when they're aroused. I almost tell him, just because I hate letting myself have a truly good time.
He's not smiling, just looking at me and I'm weird-sober again because of it. "Good enough," he says, catching my mouth with near-biting force. It's gorgeous and painful, sweet like unripe peaches and just as soft.
I pull away, kicking myself for stopping him, but I've been wondering. "How'd you know I wasn't drunk?"
Hakkai smiles, genuinely amused, and says, "You never once groped the waitress, you didn't laugh spontaneously at some strange little thing your muddied mind found funny, and," he licks my lip, chuckling as he murmurs, "You didn't dry-hump me in the hallway this time."
My own laughter is drowned in the ensuing kiss, the fight for dominance my own skill, I'm pleased to admit, brilliantly overtakes. And there's another question, a jest, but I'm curious. "Dry-humping, huh? So, did you, y'know, ever...?"
Hakkai snorts, pulling me to him and effectively shutting me up. "You can be insufferable sometimes," he murmurs, and I laugh into his mouth. Insufferable ol' Gojyo. That's me.
I actually wrote this a long time ago, on my Sacramento trip, in a Pep Boys parking lot. It overlooked an Adult book/video/toystore, and I had Stephen Lynch's "Gay" in my head. Maybe that'll explain some of it.
Warnings: Excessive language, shounen-ai, minor ooc.
Just a little one-shot from Gojyo's point of view on cards and the effect of sake on one's common sense.
Reviews always welcome - please tell me how I can improve! Enjoy
***
I don't think I'll ever catch the appeal in Loli. Full-grown women dressed in frilly outfits with parasols and oversized bows -don't- look cute. They're disturbing. Unfortunately, I appear to be the only roaming, eligible bachelor to think that way. God, even the whores are giggling behind their lace. Whatever happened to the good old tunic-and-bodice? Gentle curves and cotton blouses? Skirts with only -one- layer of fabric? These overgrown children are disgusting.
I head toward the inn we're using for the night. The owner's wife is sweet looking; pretty enough to watch and well dressed to suit her common sense. Of course, all the bright ones are married, but she'll be good to watch as I get drunk off my rocker. She smiles at me as I enter the frontroom, and gets me a seat at one of the back tables. There's liquor waiting for me, and a good, empty ashtray. I knew I liked her. She's good at reading people, knowing what they want and having it ready at will. She'd probably be an excellent gambler, if women were up for such a thing.
The jug's already half-empty as I light a cigarette, not savoring the flavor of nicotine like Sanzo would because I'm too cheap for that. But the buzz comes soon enough, hot and heady in my throat. That's what I smoke for.
I down another glass when an identical cup is set by the sake jug. "Mind if I join you?"
Hakkai's not really a big drinker, so the whole cup thing is just a formality, for the look of it. So was asking. He pulls a deck of cards from his pocket with a customary smile. It's not like Hakkai to initiate a game, and I mention it.
"Oh," he replies, "Sanzo-sama is tired of you whining about being broke so he told me to keep you from gambling. Since that's not about to happen," he adds, noting my snort of derision, "We're going to play until morning comes. Or you're too drunk to tell a diamond from a spade."
I grin. "Sure you want to do that?" Hakkai says nothing, but flexes his hands and deals.
*
God, I love that woman. Every time I empty a jug, she's right there with another full one. And even though I haven't beaten the green-eyed bastard -once-, I'm floating sky-high. Stopped smoking a while ago 'cause I burned myself and I'd rather focus on the cards anyhow. Except that, too, has become increasingly hard to do. I begin to drink a little less so he'll stay a little longer.
It's almost impossible to get Hakkai to play cards with me. So this, this corner table with endless supplies of good sake and smokes, is more than a hot commodity. It's paradise.
Only thing that'd make it better is a good lay, and now that I've thought it, I just can't stop. My words are more slurred than they ought to be. I ought not be saying them. But, well, I'm happy and comfortable, and this is Hakkai. He won't point the gun at me, won't jeer or poke. So it's safe enough.
Over my wobbling hand, I say, "Maybe it's the sake, but if I were gay I'd want you so bad."
He freezes, utterly sober and appraisingly aware of how I get when I'm drunk. How unmercifully horny six or seven jugs can make me. Indiscriminately so, at times. And I'll just bet he's wondering how to fight me off if I try anything. I never have, but I just might.
He must not know half those sake jugs were secreted to the bottles in my boots. I've only got three in me, enough to buzz me up and blur my vision. Plus, his eye upon me has the effect of sobering a good two jugs out anyway. But he doesn't know that.
I continue blithely on, "Think of it. We've known each other for years and we hardly touch! Women hug alla time, but us big boys, nuh-uh." I blink muzzily at my hand and, as a kicker, ask, "Hey, Hak-kai, wha's this red thing onna corner of my cards?"
He looks convinced enough of my intoxication and pulls the cards out of yielding fingers. "It's a diamond, Gojyo," he explains, tucking the deck away inside his clothing. I'll have to find out where he puts those later.
Oh, that brought some thoughts to mind. All more or less naughty, and this...is...Hakkai I'm thinking about here. Maybe I -am- a bit too drunk for my own good. But, you know what, I'm going to roll with it, just this once. He's pretty enough, and I'll just...tease him a bit. He's a powerhouse inside a soft-spoken, gentle exterior, but that says nothing of inherent masculinity. I kind of want to push his limits.
So when he says, "Time to go, Gojyo," I lean heavy on him, staggering without clanking the bottles in my boots as I walk. Sake could come in handy later, when I drink to forget I ever attempted this. But it's oddly fun. He pays for me, and I smile at the owner's wife as my hands fuck with Hakkai's senses of decency and balance. Thumb his chest, under that sash he's always got on, until the nipple is almost rock-hard, then back off. And my other hand is firmly gripping his shoulder so he can't move away. Plus that, he'd drop poor drunk ol' Gojyo if he did.
I truly am insufferable sometimes. It's hard not to laugh as I stumble up the stairs with him, my hands 'slipping' every once in a while. He has a fantastic ass, really he does. I can't help but touch it every chance I get. Which is often, because he's concentrating on not letting us fall. Ooh, Hakkai on the horizontal.
Trip, baby, and I'll do you in the hallway.
I realize how true that is and stumble a little less. But that doesn't keep me from murmuring to him, just softly slurring his name. He leads me into my room and shuts the door. I'd expected him to leave me alone so I could -really- get drunk and just pass out. It was what I'd been planning.
But he turns to me and says, "I know you're not as drunk as you're putting on."
I freeze, shocked and dumbfounded. And embarrassed. "Why'd you play along then?"
He turns to the door and puts his forehead against it. "If you were gay, I wouldn't mind if you wanted me."
And, before I can stop it, my mouth runs away with me. "So you're..."
"It's not a matter of are or are not. I'm just saying I wouldn't mind." He looks defensive, frowning unfocusedly at the door. "Go on and tell me it's wrong to like being wanted."
And there comes a wave of pitiless sympathy rushing through me. He's wretched, but so am I. I know that feeling, I know that shameful need.
I wonder if I should touch him. Fuck that, I want to. So I lean down until my forehead rests on his neck and I can talk into his spine. "It's not wrong to want to be loved, Hakkai," I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. "Lots of good people love being loved. It's when you settle for being wanted that you get into trouble."
He stands silent beneath me for a while, then I feel his shoulders tense and he slams both fists against the door. Under normal circumstances, I'd back off. But we don't do this every day. I stand to full height and slide my hands down to his chest, resting my elbows on his shoulders and leaning his body against mine.
"Why so violent?"
He grips my hands with his own, squeezing but not pulling away. "Why not? Don't treat me like I'm a woman."
I almost laugh. "I don't," I reply, bending again to talk into his ear. "If you were a woman, I wouldn't have pretended a thing, you'd be screaming my name right now, and I wouldn't be having as much of a good time overall. Unless," I add as an afterthought, nipping the skin below my mouth, "you -want- to be just another meaningless fuck."
How he stayed so calm I'll never know. I was half-shaking at my own words and actions, shaken by disbelief and adrenaline. And he stood still as I spoke, hardly acknowledging my lips on his ear. I'm absolutely floored at his next words. "You imply there could be meaning, then."
His hands single out my right index and begin to work at the digit, pulling gently at muscles I didn't know I had. I opt for silence; my brain's really feeling the effects of forced sobriety in the face of too much sake now that I'm out of Hakkai's gaze. His hands move to the next finger, and the next, until he presses his thumbs into my palm and my lips close around the shell of his ear, half out of reflex. If it were anyone rougher than Hakkai, it would hurt.
"So you are implying it?" he goads, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
If my propensity for bad puns should choose to emerge at this moment, so be it! "It's not a matter of are or are not," I say, plunging my tongue into his ear as he reaches for my left hand. "If you can trust me, take whatever you want from it."
His pace hitched when I'd blown over the wetness I left, but it restarted methodically at the middle finger when I stopped to speak. As it is, he finishes the digits and pushes his thumbs into my palm, harder than on the right hand. Warmth floods my arm, my entire fucking -arm-. I want his hands on the rest of me, if they can do that to just my fingers.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" I ask, putting my free hand up against the door we're still facing.
"I'm just trying it out," he replies oh-so-innocently, leaving my left hand to wrap his fingers about my outstretched arm. He traces the raised veins with warm fingertips and says, "If I can trust you. How can I trust you?"
Uh-oh. I've got to tread carefully, because a fuck-up here ruins far more than my chances tonight. But I don't know what to say. The first bullshit to mind comes out unhindered. "I can't make you. I only say 'trust me' when I'm with a woman, and desperate. The circumstances evidently do not apply." I have to stop talking because he's somehow turned my elbow into an erogenous zone. It's just impolite to groan in the middle of a sentence.
He says, "Meaning you're not desperate?"
"Nor are you a woman," I counter, refusing to accede. "Trust me based on what you think, not what I say."
He pauses, reaches up, and grabs two fistfuls of my hair. And lets it siphon through soft fingers so I wonder if I imagined the pain. "I have two questions. Answer honestly. Will you leave in the morning?"
I'm focusing so hard on the words I almost miss what they mean. "Not if you don't ask me to." And I wouldn't, not with the prospects of a pre-breakfast boink. Now there's a thought.
Hakkai sighs; I can feel his body relaxing. "Do you want me?" He asks, emotionless in tone.
Before I can think, I murmur assent. He stiffens, and I tense as well, wondering if I've said the wrong thing. He moves quickly, pulling my hands from him and leaning forward against the door, groping for the knob.
Fucktard Gojyo, you fucking fucked it up! Time to go get -really-...I stop when I hear the lock click, my hand halfway to slapping my own forehead. He faces me for the first time since he put the cards away and I finally see how flushed he is. His mouth is full and red, hot and pretty. I recognize it, but thought only girls turn that pink when they're aroused. I almost tell him, just because I hate letting myself have a truly good time.
He's not smiling, just looking at me and I'm weird-sober again because of it. "Good enough," he says, catching my mouth with near-biting force. It's gorgeous and painful, sweet like unripe peaches and just as soft.
I pull away, kicking myself for stopping him, but I've been wondering. "How'd you know I wasn't drunk?"
Hakkai smiles, genuinely amused, and says, "You never once groped the waitress, you didn't laugh spontaneously at some strange little thing your muddied mind found funny, and," he licks my lip, chuckling as he murmurs, "You didn't dry-hump me in the hallway this time."
My own laughter is drowned in the ensuing kiss, the fight for dominance my own skill, I'm pleased to admit, brilliantly overtakes. And there's another question, a jest, but I'm curious. "Dry-humping, huh? So, did you, y'know, ever...?"
Hakkai snorts, pulling me to him and effectively shutting me up. "You can be insufferable sometimes," he murmurs, and I laugh into his mouth. Insufferable ol' Gojyo. That's me.