Jealousy
Saiyuki 58/T+
I wonder if he realizes he has a look- right before he chooses the girl he wants for the evening and she gives in. It's a look of hunger and confidence; like a predator that's just cornered his pray and is going in for the kill. I've seen it so many times over the years that I've lost count, but this new look I don't know. I don't understand this look of frustration he's been wearing lately. It's not like he's been any less prolific, maybe even more so somehow, it's just, he use to come home sated, exhausted, and smelling of them. The foul stale stench of too many smokes, beer, and cheap perfume. Of musk. It's been weeks now, maybe months, since I've smelled that combination.
I can't say I'm not pleased. I won't lie; it pleases me no small amount that he's now wearing the same look of angry frustration I've hidden away for so many years. It hadn't started like this. I'm not even sure I know when these feelings crept in thief-like and stole away my sanity. All I know is one day I wasn't 'doing something else,' I was 'waiting to see what he'd do.' After that it was all downhill. Once more I felt possessed, dangerous, a threat to one I cared about. That was the first time I left. It took a while too, until I could go back. Until it was safe enough to go back-for both of us.
It wasn't the last though. It came and went. Sometimes I was fine, others not even close. I fled when the darkness threatened, ran away like a coward until the cracks in my mask healed enough for the bleeding heartache to stop. Like a head wound it seemed to take forever. How I thought I could keep going on like that I'll never figure out. All I know is I fought so damn hard to keep it hidden, to keep the beast silent and he ruined everything with four little words.
"Let's go home, Hakkai."
Fuck. I tried. I really did. I tried everything I could think of the keep him at arms' length and he goes and turns down another girl. An absolutely stunning blonde to go home with me?!
"Gojyo? Are you sure, she seemed quite…"
His look stopped my rambling cold. The frustrations had finally given way to some form of comprehension, something, because we didn't even make it down the block before he pressed me up against a brick wall and kissed me-hard. Hard enough our teeth clattered together and I think I might have bit his tongue in surprise. Something was jabbing me in the back as he twisted his fingers in my hair and tried to swallow my soul. I could have cared less. I could feel him against me, hot, hard, and insistent. I almost wanted to tell him no, because this couldn't be real, some fever dream or intoxicated stupor. Something.
When he pulled back, his eyes glowing and luminescent in the moonlight, I realized no dream could be this good, this satisfying, because what I saw wasn't frustration; it wasn't unchecked lust looking for a surrogate. It was peace.
"I'm sorry I'm late." He whispered, kissing me again tenderly.
I choked back a laugh that sounded more like a sob and smiled. "Better late than never. Welcome home."
~Owari