MijukuGaki: Alright! Something I just thought of. This is probably my best writing! Oh yeah, my first lemon. Tell me how much it sucks!
It was hot.
The kind of hot that suffocates you and brings you to your knees, but when it leaves, you lie there begging, pleading for it to return.
Genjyo Sanzo winced at the pleased smile that spread upon the face beneath him. He wondered how someone could cast such a calm smile through their own pants and moans, and most importantly, the excruciating heat.
The headboard pounded in time with his thrusts that withdrew then returned into the writhing body beneath him. The steady pounds added to the orchestra of their sinful act of lust. Amethyst scanned the willowy male that brought him into this situation, absorbing his angelic yet psychotic features.
He was drowning.
Farther, deeper, into the yellow eyes of a madman.
He stared mesmerized as his . . . lover threw his head back and howled, revealing pearly white fangs. He closed his eyes and allowed the groan he had sent to the back of his throat, to escape through his lips. Sanzo never wanted sex. It seemed so below him; stupid. Now . . . now was a completely different story.
The pace began to pick up, so did the temperature. He was engulfed in the cries of he and his lover. Even though things had intensified, yellow eyes looked up at him calmly, mockingly. Sanzo soon realized he wasn't the one in control anymore. He was under the control of the man beneath him. He hadn't said a single command to Sanzo, yet Sanzo obeyed his very order.
Then, a wave of ecstasy coursed through his body, and he gave a hoarse moan before falling into sweet oblivion, but through it all, he could stillfeel those eyes burning into him.
That's when his woke up.
The window flew open with a crash, allowing the relentless wind and beating rain to enter. Sanzo's eyes shot opened and he sat up abruptly, his entire body shaking. He raised a hand to hold his sweat drenched forehead.
It . . . it was only . . . only a dream.
He gave a sigh.
Only a . . . dream.
Though his head was still fuzzy, he managed to throw off the dampened sheets and walk across the room to shut the window. After this task, he slumped on the windowsill and gazed on the pouring rain, his heart still beating furiously.
He shouldn't be having these dreams. He couldn't be having these dreams. He fished out a Marlboro, lit it, then placed it between his lips. It has been so long since that incident happened, and he thought he had shut it away completely. Was this . . . was this what was hiding deep within his heart? Is this what he was missing? He shook the thought off and took a long drag of his cigarette.
It was hot.
The kind of hot that suffocates you and brings you to your knees, but when it leaves, you lie there begging, pleading for it to return.
He did. He begged. He pleaded. He screamed. He clawed at the ground.
He wanted that feeling again, no matter how sick it sounded or was.
He wanted . . .
"Tsumi," he breathed, his breath fogging the window.
Sanzo was not in a very good mood. He wasn't able to go back to sleep after the incident, so had gotten himself drunk. He woke up this morning at the bar in an awkward feeling between tipsy and hangover. He had picked himself up and dragged himself back to his bed, but after two seconds of silence, the monkey burst into the room complaining about that bottomless pit of a stomach. This ended up in Goku almost receiving a new breathing hole, and $500 in wall repairs. Sanzo was definitely not in a good fucking mood.
Currently, he sat in the inn's attached restaurant, reading the newspaper. It was silent since he had knocked the idiots of the group over the head with not his fan, but his gun. He didn't fire, not wanting to owe any more money, even though the money was not his in the first place.
He scanned the newspaper for an article that didn't have to do with the Minus Wave. Before it was interesting to hear what people thought the cause of the wave was, now it was just boring. Then, he came across an article labeled, "Silent Murders: Attacks Not Done By Youkai?" Sanzo raised an eyebrow. A little straight forward, but, okay. He read the article with great interest. He didn't even realize that Gojyo and Goku were at it again.
Tsumi, the dream, everything that happened the night before was forgotten. Or, simply pushed to the back of his head until later. Sanzo didn't care and labeled it as something that would never happen again.
That was behind him now.
Sex was behind him now.
Tsumi was behind him now.
So . . . there it is! Review to tell me how much I suck or if I should go on. Ja!
MijukuGaki