Stain

Standard disclaimers still apply, sadly enough.

/word/ indicates emphasis or Japanese

~*~

Sometimes, he’ll look at me as though I am something precious, something to be treasured. And for some reason, that look directed at /me/ from /him/ makes me want to cry, kiss him, beat him senseless with my /harisen/ or all three simultaneously.

Like now.

He only glances briefly, but it’s long enough for me to see that particular look in his eyes. There’s a slight smile on his mouth, curving the edges of his inviting lips upward just the most minute way, but I see it just the same. Then his focus returns to the darkened world outside us.

He’s sitting by the window, shutters thrown back allowing silver moonlight to bathe him in a soft glow. A gentle breeze stirs that long, super fine hair of his and swirls the smoke from his cigarette my way. He must sense my eyes on him because he turns towards me.

I frown at the sudden change in his eyes. Something outside must have triggered some long-suppressed memory within because I can actually see the raw hurt deep within those gemstones. It makes them shine so brightly with such a vivid darkness that before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m walking towards him.

I know he hurts. Hell, /all/ of us do, even that bakazaru. And when he takes me with such sweet violence, I can feel the darkness that he’s always trying to keep at bay. It’s a beautiful thing, really, and makes me want to just reach out and touch him just so the hurt will leave his eyes. Surprisingly enough (given his particularly boisterous behavior), he’s quite adept at keeping the pain from his eyes. But there’ll be certain moments when that guard drops, even for just the slightest time, and I’ll see the scars from his past, those scars that he tries so hard to hide.

I take his face gently in my hands--devoid of arm warmers--and tilt his lips to meet mine. I think this has to be about the most tender moment that has ever passed between us (at least, when /I’ve/ been the one to initiate it). I pull away, not even letting my tongue out to taste his slightly trembling bottom lip.

I’m not sure he even knows what he does to me now. I made the demand of him I did because I knew he wouldn’t ask questions and there’d be no pity whatsoever on his part. But he’s just like that. He never asked my reasons when it began, and he still hasn’t asked to this day. Somehow, he understands the need I have to punish myself. Sometimes, I wish in so much vain that I could forget the sins of my past, the losses I’ve been dealt, the suffering I’ve endured. But that would be much too easy, and I just can’t bring myself to let any of it go.

His eyes open, and now there’s a question there. It’s one that I’ve seen all too often when I look in the mirror. But I turn away. I’m not ready to recognize that question and all the implications it warrants.

I feel his arms encircle me from behind and lean into his warmth. He buries his face in my hair, his hands resting on the flat plane of my stomach. I cover his hands with my own and sigh. I don’t want to think that I’m falling all over again.

His mouth nips lightly at my ear before his lips descend on the sensitive flesh behind it. He bites down none-too-gently, incisors sharp enough that I feel a fine line of blood trickle down the skin of my neck. Then his tongue darts out and cleans the stain from my skin, the wet warmth traveling lower until it reaches the juncture of my neck and shoulder. He marks me once more, and I thank anyone who’s listening that my tank is turtleneck in design.

He’s reawakened and insistent as he grinds into my backside. He muffles a groan in the area between my shoulder blades as I push roughly back against him. I grab hold of his hips to steady his motions, and I begin to rotate my hips in circular motions, drawing pleased moans and gasps from him.

He tears his mouth from the skin of my back and pushes me forcibly towards the bed. My momentum carries me right to it, and I can’t stop before my shins collide with the frame; I fall face first into the soft, white sheets.

Before I have time to prop myself up, much less react to my current position, he’s already flipped me onto my back and presses me into the mattress, his lean body flush against my own. His eyes glitter darkly, and for the briefest of moments, I feel /fear/ creeping into my stomach. He’s never been this way before, never the aggressor, until I’ve done something to awaken the darkness in him.

He kisses me fiercely, tongue thrust roughly into my mouth as I try to protest. He bites my tongue in warning when I try to pull away, and I relent, simply laying still as he plunders my mouth mercilessly. He growls at the lack of participation on my part and pulls away.

The contact of his hand on my cheek resounds eerily through the quiet room, my head snapping to the side with the force of his blow. He’s never struck me before, never in the face and never without my coaxing first. There’s something wrong with my vision. Everything’s a bit blurry, and I freeze when the realization hits.

He grips my chin hard enough to leave bruises and turns my face towards his. He grins almost maniacally at the bruise I can feel forming on my cheek. He licks the wound in imitation tenderness, his mouth trailing kisses to my throat where he bites down again.

It’s convenient that we are already devoid of clothing as I am now certain none of my attire would have survived his assault.

Despite this new dominance on his part and my subtle fear, I am fully ready for him, and he knows it, his hand snaking between our bodies to grasp my throbbing erection. I groan and arc against him, exposing the soft underside of my chin. This action doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His teeth nip at the vulnerable flesh, his tongue darting out for a quick taste, but he doesn’t bite down. I suppose I should have felt relief, but I’m too far gone for such coherent thought processes.

A strong thigh parts my legs, and I willingly open myself to him. A quick thrust, and his rips inside me. A scream threatens at the back of my throat, but he swallows it down as his lips cover mine. I break away from his mouth, arcing against him, my legs encircling his torso, arms wound tightly around his neck.

His face is buried in my hair, his moans and pants music to my ears. I thrust against him, his thrusts becoming more violent, slamming the headboard against the wall mercilessly in his frenzy to seek release within my body. His hand releases my aching erection, and I feel him pull me more tightly against him as he drives further inside me, getting a better angle, driving each thrust squarely against my prostate.

I’m seeing stars, the friction of our bodies stimulating my neglected erection, and finally I see the white of oblivion as we explode together in a chaos of harried movement and delirious pleasure.

When sight returns to some semblance of normal, I look up at him only to see his eyes wide with horror as realization sets in. Sweat glistens on his skin, and I pull him closer to lick it away, tasting salt and fear and dark, dark arousal. Even with the awareness that he may have gone too far, he is still very turned on.

I smile languidly at him, sweet afterglow dictating my actions, and pull him in for another kiss. He’s unresponsive at first, but my tongue is quite insistent as it laps at his lips for entrance, which he grants with a begrudging moan.

I can feel him hardening again, the head of his member thick and blunt against my entrance. Youkai stamina is such a wondrous thing. My own is reawakening, and I thrust lazily against his stomach. He grips my hips tightly and pushes inside once more, the passage lax and slicked just nicely for him.

He moans again, his thrusts much more gentle this time around. I don’t mind it this time. I decide to just keep my mouth shut about it and go with the flow. I’ve already had my punishment, and I know that deep down, he enjoyed it as well. The demon within him has been sated for now, and heaven help me, I can’t wait until he decides to come out and play again.

~*~

Hmmm… Well, that didn’t come out exactly how I had envisioned it, but oh well. *shrugs* I decided to explore Sanzo’s view in all this. I think OOC-ness abounds, but I love to play in the darkness. Besides, Saiyuki itself is a rather dark story anyway. I think I rather like how Gojyo was in this round, and first person POV was quite an interesting way to go about it.