A Different Rhythm

By Helena Handbasket

    The hours remaining until sunrise had just overtaken those that had passed since sunset when Hakkai slipped silently into the room, casting an impassive glance at the mahjongg table where Goku and Sanzo knelt playing poker, one staring at his cards with open avarice, the other indifferently concealing his face behind a newspaper. Bolstering his strength to produce the expected smile, but indulging in a justifiable undercurrent of ill-use, Hakkai settled into the seat across from Goku.

    The scene was a familiar one. Sanzo. Goku. Hakkai. Wasting time. As it had been every night for the fourteen long days they had been stranded in this village, the fourth place was empty.

    The only acknowledgement of his arrival was the crinkle of Sanzo’s newspaper and a deliberately extended drag of his cigarette. Goku didn’t even notice him until he looked up after discarding a pair of cards and dealing out their replacements. His grin transformed, suddenly rife with knowing amusement.

    “Kicked out again, eh Hakkai?”

    Hakkai shrugged, imagining the mild gesture as a tidal wave that would wash away the sting of that truth, cleanse the suppressed hurt that lay beneath. “I prefer to regard it as a temporary displacement. He’ll be done soon enough.”

    In evidence of the underlying meaning of these words, a dull thudding arose from the far wall, mathematical in its steady rhythm yet animalistic in the urgency it conveyed. At least there was no groaning this time, no pleading enticements in soft, feminine tones. Hakkai hated it when they were loud.

    Sanzo shuddered in revulsion at the noise, his newspaper rustling. Among its folds, his thumb and forefinger twitched, cocking and firing his absent gun. “This,” he grunted at last, “is why I prefer to stay at inns with an annex.”

    But Goku just laughed, smiling at Hakkai. “I feel for you, man. Why do you think I asked to switch rooms?”

    “You didn’t ask to switch rooms, idiot,” Sanzo snarled, crushing the paper in balled fists and flinging it aside. He had switched from quiet surliness to yelling more rapidly than usual, his raised voice overwhelming the sounds filtering in from the adjacent room. Hakkai was grateful for that. “Gojyo bitched about your snoring until Hakkai was forced to switch with you to keep me from killing you both.”

    “I snored loud on purpose. I knew Hakkai would step in before you killed us.”

    “Just so you know, I haven’t entirely decided against it.”

    Goku shrugged off the familiar threat. “Whatever. My plan worked, didn’t it?”

    “I will never, ever give you that much credit.”

    The sounds from next door were hammering into Hakkai’s skull, and he found himself longing for Sanzo to start shouting again. He was surprised, then, when it was Goku who spoke.

    “So… I saw him operating in the tavern earlier. Was it the blonde or the brunette?”

    With a sigh, Hakkai tried to seal his mind against the imagery, shutting away his awareness of Gojyo’s current activities in all but logical acknowledgement. “You don’t want to know.”

    “Blonde,” Goku declared, flinging a handful of chips onto the center of the table as he directed a sharp, challenging glare at the monk. A wager.

    Sanzo’s reply was laconic as he tossed his own chips down. “Brunette.”

    There was no helping it. In another place, another lifetime, with another companion in question, Hakkai would have found the exchange humorous. Even now he did, in a masochistic way, and he seized upon that twisted amusement. Anything to help maintain his façade.

    “It was the blonde,” he said airily, waiting until Goku was scooping up his winnings before adding, “and the brunette.”

    Leaning forward, he plucked his default prize from beneath Goku’s frozen fingers, chuckling despite himself at the stricken look on his face.

    “Tch.” Sanzo lit another cigarette, the aroma faintly sweeter than Gojyo’s customary blend, and thankfully not underscored by the tinge of sex that would pervade the room beneath the smoke when Hakkai finally returned to bed. “Enough gossip. Are we going to play or not?”

* * *

    Gojyo was softly snoring when Hakkai arose the next morning, mulling about the room less quietly and considerately than was his wont. He felt a twinge of guilt, however, when Gojyo shifted in his sleep, the sex-sated smile wavering on his lips. It wasn’t Gojyo’s fault, after all, that Hakkai was so sensitive, so incapable of separating the act and the emotion of love, so doggedly loyal that he could not relinquish a one-sided devotion, regardless of the pain it caused him. Gojyo was an unabashed playboy, and to condemn him for acting upon his nature was cruelly unjust.

    He couldn’t have known, all those years ago, the weight of the connection he had forged through his kindness, his easy humor, and the admonishment of those crimson eyes. For Gojyo it had been friendship, camaraderie, mutual survival, never suspecting that Hakkai was a different beast, for whom such a lifeline was a tether of steel. Since then he had been bound by the interplay of their synchronicity and their opposite natures.

    Standing over Gojyo’s sleeping form, Hakkai tilted his head to consider the fresh scratches on his bare shoulder. He was tempted to reach out, to stroke the abrasions with the tips of his fingers, but his long-suppressed passions had been rubbed raw over the last several days, and he didn’t quite trust himself until he got them under control. His long-accustomed guardedness stayed his hand before he could do anything rash.

    Loving Gojyo had come upon him so easily that he had hardly noticed. A year after Kanan’s death he had commemorated her in a solitary ritual, but while the sense of closure had lifted some, though not all, of the heavy burden of her memory, a raw nerve had been exposed in its wake. A new connection, a new devotion. A burgeoning passion – one he knew would not be returned.

    He stared down at Gojyo and, with grim amusement, thought, I am so fucked up.

    For three years, Hakkai’s suppressed longing had not undermined his happiness – idealistic as he could be, he was first and foremost a realist, able to contentedly accept the inevitability of unchangeable truths. Even once the journey had begun, and the incessant perils fortified their bond, he recognized that their need for one another, however profound, was ultimately one of comfortable co-dependence. He could laugh and nag, protect and scold, all within the matrix of friendly, even flirtatious banter without ever being troubled by the knowledge that Gojyo would never desire anything more from him. He was already the person that Gojyo wanted him to be. He had reached his limit, and that was fine.

    But then the damned rainy season had come, washing away the flimsy bridges that spanned the river that barred their way westward. The sturdiest bridge remained intact but inaccessible, submerged until the rains abated, and they were stuck in this dreary village with nothing to do but while away the hours in whatever way amused them best. For Gojyo, this meant women. And lots of them.

    Hakkai had only ever known jealousy of the vindictive sort, the righteous fury of Kanan’s kidnap and rape. For him, jealousy was mixed with hatred, inspirable only by a physical threat. Thus, it had taken him by surprise when Gojyo’s recent trysts, impracticable in their usual circumstances, elicited a sad sense of hopeless failure. Night after night he was forced to listen through the walls as Gojyo made up for months of pent-up carnality. The sounds, sometimes rough and passionate, sometimes gentle, brought home the torture of his own long self-denial. Much as it would probably do him good, Hakkai could not muster the interest in lying with anyone else. By the time he had finished mourning for Kanan, his emotional ties to Gojyo had already become too strong. He couldn’t have Gojyo, and he wouldn’t have anyone else. Celibacy was the only choice. The fact that his own focused, almost monomaniacal, nature was to blame for his predicament did not make it any easier to endure.

As he looked down at Gojyo, Hakkai reminded himself of the chasm between who he was and who he was supposed to be: cheerful, sensible, responsible. A valued friend. He could still play that role. If he couldn’t, he was of no use to anyone. Like a tamed beast, reluctant but obedient, his jealousy gradually withdrew to its lair at the periphery of his consciousness. Everything would be fine now. He could be himself.

    With an affectionate, purely platonic smile, Hakkai sat on the side of Gojyo’s bed and laid his hand against the lacerated shoulder. He focused his chi, feeling the warm glow of healing emanate from his palm. Beneath the contact of bare skin, he sensed the scratches melt and fade. Compared to other wounds he had healed, the matter was trivial, but Hakkai congratulated himself on the resolve that simple act had required.

    Gojyo stirred and roused, seeking the warm hand on his shoulder to cover it with his own. Eyes still closed, he smiled languidly, stroking his thumb against the back of Hakkai’s hand. “What was your name again?” he murmured, voice muffled by the remnants of relinquished sleep. “Oh yeah. It’s the one I cry out in my dreams.”

    “Oh really,” Hakkai said cheerfully, himself again. “I must say, Goku never told me about that.”

    Gojyo’s eyes flew open, and he looked around in confusion. “Hakkai!”

    “You remember my name now? I’m flattered.”

    The half-demon narrowed his eyes and glanced suspiciously at Hakkai’s hand on his shoulder. “Um, what are you doing?” Had it been Goku or Sanzo with their hands against his bare flesh as he emerged into consciousness, Gojyo might have uttered a flippant remark about morning molestation, but for Hakkai he had no such quip. Hakkai wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

    His response was mild. “I’m doing what I always do. Patching you up.”

    “Yeah.” Gojyo sat up, stretched, and swung his legs off of the bed so that his toes brushed against the dusty floor. “What you always do. Thanks, mom.” He frowned in consternation, but Hakkai couldn’t tell whether this was because there was no one around to tame his morning hard-on or just his typical post-sleep grumpiness.

    The motion of sitting up had brought Gojyo’s chest flush against Hakkai’s back, brushing overtly against it, but Hakkai had mustered enough of his usual implacability to resist the urge to either lean into the touch or leap away. As always, normality and nonchalance were the keys. If he could not convey such things, he would have been exposed long ago.

    He could abide the radiant heat of Gojyo’s arm against his back, dividing it crosswise from shoulder to hip. But the slight brush of his friend’s thumb against his buttock as he shifted the hand bracing against the mattress was a greater challenge. It was subtle: brief enough, gentle enough to be casual contact, but pointed enough to be credibly deliberate. Either it was an accident or Gojyo suspected his desire and was teasing him. He needed to believe with every fiber of his being that it was the former, for he could not conceive of having devoted himself to someone so cruel.

    “We’d better get down to breakfast before there’s nothing left to eat,” Hakkai said brightly. “Goku and Sanzo will be waiting.”

    “Yeah. Sure.” Gojyo regarded him searchingly for a moment before turning to grope for his shirt, which had been flung across the headboard. “Hand me my pants, will ya?”

* * *

    Breakfast was the typical melee of battling for supremacy and hoarding of meat buns, but it was amicable enough. Gojyo swatted away Goku’s lighthearted jabs at his promiscuity while Sanzo not-so-subtly fingered the revolver beneath his robes. Afterwards they were dispatched for shopping duties, but since their list consisted entirely of beer, sake, and cigarettes, Goku remained behind while Hakkai and Gojyo ventured into the marketplace on their own.

    At one stall, Gojyo paused to consider a calendar. “It’s been three years, you know. Three years to the day since we met.”

    Hakkai chuckled amiably. “I’m afraid that anniversary went by months ago.”

    “Okay so I made up the date. Kill me.”

    “That’s Sanzo’s job.”

    “Whatever. The date isn’t important. My point is, it’s been a long time.”

    Hakkai nodded in acknowledgement, inspecting a display of fresh fruit that seemed an advisable purchase despite the constraints of their shopping list.

    “After all this time, you can still bluff me at poker.”

    “So?”

    “So. By now I should able to read you, but I can’t.”

    “Your point being? It’s just a game, Gojyo.”

    “This isn’t about poker, it’s about… are you pissed at me?”

    Logical self fully in control, Hakkai was able to answer honestly, “No.”

    "What about the women I’ve been bringing to our room?”

    “Well, it’s a bit inconvenient to have to impose on Sanzo and Goku night after night, but, as you said, we’ve known each other for a long time. I can’t resent your needs.”

    “And that’s it?”

    “That’s it.”

    “No objections?”

    “Perhaps it would be more considerate if you began and ended your activities a tad earlier in the evening. I could use a full night’s sleep.”

    Gojyo scanned his face for any hint of prevarication, but soon gave up against the foe of Hakkai’s placidity. “Okay. Sure. No problem.”

* * *

    That night, the pounding through the wall began earlier than usual, the chosen companion a devastating raven-haired beauty. Hakkai waited a discreet amount of time after the noise had subsided before silently returning to the room. As he slipped beneath the covers of his narrow bed, there came a quiet, “Oi.”

    “Yes?” Voice steady, calmly disinterested.

    A sigh. “Nothing.”

* * *

    When Hakkai arrived at their room the following evening, Gojyo was sitting alone in the dark, chin in fists. He looked far more dour than usual, but it was too early for him to be disgruntled over having struck out at finding a bedmate. More likely, he had scheduled a rendezvous with one of his previous partners and was pissed off because she was late. He looked up at Hakkai’s entrance and narrowed his eyes.

“I won’t be long,” Hakkai assured him. “I’m just dropping off my pack, then it’s all yours.”

    “Not tonight,” Gojyo said.

    “Eh?” Hakkai turned around, mortifyingly pleased at the prospect of a night’s respite from his foolish feelings of jealousy. He was grateful for the dim light, knowing that Gojyo would not be able to see his expression wash over with relief. Nevertheless, he added, “I hope you’re not abstaining on my account.”

    Despite its friendly intent, this statement only seemed to anger Gojyo. “So you’re saying I should go out and find a girl?”

    “I’m saying you should do whatever you want.”

    Again, this was inexplicably a bad response. Lips curling downward in an angry frown, Gojyo made a dismissive noise and then rose, the hue of his skin shifting in the flickering candlelight. His shirt had been discarded somewhere on the dusty floor, and Hakkai sighed inwardly at the knowledge that he was probably the one who would end up washing it. When Gojyo finally spoke, his voice was hard with resentment. “What the fuck is your problem?”

    “Excuse me?”

    Gojyo began to pace the room, gesturing insistently as he spoke. “I mean, night after night I bring these trollops home…”

    “That’s not a very respectful term.”

    “Fine. I bring these elegant, respectable ladies home, and you don’t bat an eye.”

    “So?” Hakkai remained unmoved by his friend’s words, but nonplussed by his attitude. Where was this anger coming from? What had he done?

    “So, Goku bitched about it nonstop when he was staying here.”

    “I think we can both agree that patience is not Goku’s strong suit.”

    The words made Gojyo twitch. “Yeah, well, it’s not mine either.”

    Hakkai was starting to get angry now, riled by this barrage of irrationality. Nevertheless, when he spoke again he words were without vitriol. Not an accusation or judgmental reproach, but a statement of fact. “It’s a good thing, then, that I spend my evenings with Sanzo and Goku instead of with ‘respectable ladies.’”

    Gojyo stopped pacing and turned to face him, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah, about that. Why don’t you? Women love that polite white knight bullshit you have going. You could get laid whenever you want, so what’s the problem?”

    Hakkai’s eyes narrowed. He did not like where this conversation was going; it was almost as if Gojyo suspected the truth and was calling him out. But what did he care if it didn’t affect him? Hakkai couldn’t help how he felt, and he had done everything in his power to keep it from becoming an issue. He had nothing to apologize for, nothing to confess. Drawing himself up to meet Gojyo’s glare, he said, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

    Gojyo threw up his arms in exasperation, but his air had shifted from anger to a sort of desperate hopelessness. “How is it not my business?” he demanded, crossing the room to grip Hakkai by both shoulders and slamming him against the wall. “For three years we’ve shared everything. I’ve told you shit about my life that I never thought I’d tell anyone, and I’m pretty sure I know more about you than anyone else. So what’s the deal? Casual sex not your thing? Turning religious? Did your dick fall off from frostbite when we were crossing the mountains? What?”

    This bald incomprehension couched in coarseness was the last straw, and Hakkai was angry now. He did not often let his temper show, but when he did it was fierce and visceral. The glare he leveled at Gojyo might have toppled mountains. He was in a dangerous state, and he knew that Gojyo recognized it as well. Nevertheless, the long fingers continued to hold his shoulders in an iron grip. “I’ve made every concession,” he said levelly. “What do you expect? What more do you want?”

    “Want?” Gojyo’s fingers shook as he laughed, but did not relinquish their hold. “Want? I want a reaction, man. I want some indication that this friendship means more to you than an association of convenience.”

    “I’ve proven myself enough, I believe, and I fail to see the relevance.”

The fingers tightened, pushing Hakkai farther into the wall. “The fucking ‘relevance’ is that I’ve been whoring all over town and you don’t give a shit.”

The irony of that statement almost made Hakkai laugh, but the air between them was too serious, too laden with unresolved issues. He didn’t know what those issues were, nor did he see what they had to do with Gojyo’s recent sex-spree. Perhaps it was time to point that out. “You’re talking about two different concepts. Sex has nothing to do with friendship.”

    Gojyo snorted. “I never thought I’d hear that coming from you. You’re the one who’s always making a big deal about the importance of emotional connections.”

    “Congratulations. You’ve just answered your own question as to why I don’t go ‘whoring around’.” In any logical universe, this would have ended the argument, but Hakkai was too savvy to expect that. It was clear from Gojyo’s attitude that he wasn’t looking for the simple answer, he was looking for the deep one. He said he wanted a reaction, something other than Hakkai’s customary friendly tolerance, but he couldn’t realize what that meant, how much it had already cost to keep it in check. Gojyo was being an asshole, and if he wanted a reaction, he certainly wasn’t going to get one now.

    As expected, Hakkai’s answer didn’t satisfy. “Fine,” Gojyo snarled. “If that’s the best you can do, I’m an even bigger fool than I thought. You want to know what I want? Fine, then. I want this.” Squeezing Hakkai’s shoulders until they bruised, Gojyo thrust his face forward and pressed his lips hard against Hakkai’s. It was a kiss of overt possession and need, Gojyo’s tongue thrusting into Hakkai’s protesting mouth. For a moment it gentled, and then Gojyo pulled away as if drawing the last droplets of nectar out of a honeysuckle. Eyes locked with Hakkai’s, he stood back and waited.

* * *

    Gojyo couldn’t believe it when the fucker just stood there, staring at him with that cold, closed expression of his. At the pinnacle of his frustration, Gojyo had taken the leap, gone to extremes to elicit some sort of reaction, but there was nothing but those cold eyes. Who the fuck doesn’t do anything when his best friend sticks his tongue down his throat? At length, he pointed out, “You didn’t hit me.”

    Hakkai shrugged. “Why would I?”

    “You didn’t kiss me back.”

    “Same response. If you’re looking for entertainment, perhaps someone more elegant and ladylike will be better obliging. The tavern is open by now, I imagine.”

    For a moment, Gojyo froze, his eyes glued to the candlelight reflecting off of Hakkai’s monacle. Then he murmured, “You bastard,” and decked Hakkai with one of the more creditable right hooks that he had ever delivered.

    Already pressed up against the wall, Hakkai had nowhere to go. He took the punch to his jaw without flinching, then turned his face, complete with bleeding lip, to face Gojyo once again. It was as if he were made of ice. Indestructible, unfeeling ice. This had been Gojyo’s last chance, and it had been an utter cock-up. He had placed all his hopes on the shady prospect of Hakkai’s emotional repression, but his efforts had yielded nothing.

    Gojyo was finally at the end of a long struggle that had been ongoing for years, all in the name of resolving the uncertainty of Hakkai’s unflappable demeanor. His attempts at flirtation were met with pleasant but shallow repartee. The instigation of fights always left him either shamed or bloody. His recent misguided attempt at “subtle” provocation had yielded nothing. Perhaps it was time to admit defeat, to concede after all this time that Hakkai had nothing buried: no secrets, and no regrets that he didn’t already know about.

    It couldn’t be just that Hakkai wasn’t into men – neither was Gojyo. But he had stupidly thought that there was something more between them, something that transcended gender. One of those fucking emotional connections that Hakkai seemed to think were so great. But he was wrong. He was stupid and wrong, and he’d made an ass of himself once again. And he felt like his heart had shriveled to the size of a cherry pit.

    “Sometimes I think you’re no better than a shikigami,” Gojyo spat bitterly. “All control, no substance. But I know there’s passion in you somewhere. Cho Gonou is not dead.”

    Hakkai’s eyes darkened, but his face remained calm. “In the eyes of Buddha he is.”

    Gojyo laughed mirthlessly and dropped his head to rest upon Hakkai’s shoulder. “I guess you’re right. I guess he is.”

    His misery seemed to strike a chord, because Hakkai’s arms, heretofore stiff at his side, rose to enfold him in an uncertain embrace. He felt the tickle of his rustling hair against his ear as Hakkai exhaled in a slow, deliberate breath.

“I’m surprised you should question my passion,” Hakkai murmured. “You’ve seen it enough times.”

    “In battle, yes, but not in…” He sighed, knowing it was pointless to continue, but unable to keep from speaking. He lifted his head, and looked deep into Hakkai’s unwavering green eyes. “Why the hell do you think I’ve been sleeping with all those women these past weeks?”

    Hakkai’s lips ticked into a faint smile, a familiar smile. “Because you’re an insatiable sex fiend?”

    “No! Well… okay, I am, but that’s not the reason.”

    Hakkai frowned, genuinely puzzled, and the hands that had been stroking soft, soothing lines across his back suddenly halted. For the first time in the conversation, he appeared less angry than intrigued. Without intending it, Gojyo’s accusatory tone had somehow shifted into one of confession.

    “I wanted to see how you’d react. I wanted to see you get pissed off or jealous.  To glimpse some spark, some hope that you felt... That we might… But you, you asshole. You didn’t give a damn.”

    Hakkai hesitated, then, sliding his hands across Gojyo’s back to grip his biceps and push him firmly away. Gojyo expected a hard shove, well deserved after his attempted manipulation, but Hakkai just held him at arm’s length, inspecting his features. Not wanting to break the connection, Gojyo reached out to place his palm against Hakkai’s chest, his eyes drifting to the trickle of fast-drying blood that stretched from the corner of his mouth to his chin. Finally, Hakkai spoke. “I did.”

    With a faint resurgence of hope, Gojyo’s expression shifted. “What?”

    “I did give a damn. The last two weeks have been torture.”

    Gojyo’s heart leapt, and he offered up a rare prayer that he was not misunderstanding. Had his plan succeeded after all? There was no mistaking the slight tremble of Hakkai’s shoulders beneath his hands. Still, he would have to handle this tactfully. “You sure didn’t show it, dickwad.”

    In a gesture of simple affection, Hakkai shook his head, but his eyes revealed more. They showed a glimmer of hope, the hint of possibility. “That would have been unfair. How many times have you told me that you would not take a man to your bed?”

    “I thought that was flirting. A challenge.”

    “I’m not that ambitious.”

    “You’re an idiot.”

    “I won’t deny that.”

    The uncertain tension between them had fallen away, giving rise to new prospects, to the notion that he had not suffered alone for all of these years. Gojyo stared at his friend, the man he had loved for so long, before finally dropping his head and saying, “I’m sorry.”

    Hakkai made a soft noise of inquiry, and Gojyo clarified, “Sorry I didn’t do this sooner.”

    He slid his hand up Hakkai’s chest and deftly undid the buttons on his high collar, tugging the fabric down to expose his collarbone, where he placed a gentle but intensely loving kiss. Even at this brief contact, the heat from Hakkai’s body flooded into him until he felt dizzy. He could scarcely believe that their long dance might have finally reached its culmination.

    Hakkai shuddered at the kiss, back arching, and Gojyo hoped he understood his uniqueness. In the years they had known each other, none of the women Gojyo had been with had received such a raw moment of tenderness.

As he raised his eyes to meet Hakkai’s, he saw that they were smiling. “Fishing again?” Hakkai mused, his good humor undercut by something akin to trepidation. “Are you looking for me to hit you?”

    “No,” said Gojyo. “This is much different. Besides, if you hit me now, I don’t think I’d even notice.”

    He stepped back, breaking contact, and Hakkai involuntarily followed, providing the space for Gojyo to push him backwards onto the bed with the barest of pressure. As Hakkai watched, still somewhat wary, Gojyo strolled around the bed and sat next to him, easing the sash over his head and discarding it on the floor. Then one by one, he undid the buttons of Hakkai’s tunic, placing a tender kiss on each new stretch of exposed flesh until he came upon the livid scar, made more apparent by the flush that covered Hakkai’s entire body. With the tip of his tongue, Gojyo licked the slightly raised contour of the marred flesh, its sensitivity making Hakkai convulse with the sensation.

    “I’ve had my hands in your guts, you know.”

    Hakkai snorted ironically. “You’re a real romantic.”

    Gojyo chuckled and continued downwards, unfastening Hakkai’s pants and peeling them away with reverential gentleness. He let his fingers trail against the firm muscles of Hakkai’s legs as he drew the garment downward and away, an act of worship rather than possession. As he moved back upwards, he paused above Hakkai’s swollen cock, gratifyingly hard, to dart his tongue across its tip. Hakkai gasped, a simple, indistinct noise that nevertheless made Gojyo smile. Covering Hakkai’s body with his own, he ran his hands up those lanky arms, unconsciously stretched above his head in a submissive posture. Gojyo grasped his wrists hard, eliciting a soft sigh of pleasure.

    He bowed his head to capture Hakkai’s lips. The kiss was so different from his previous attempt – softer and more yielding. Welcoming. He shuddered at the swift dart of Hakkai’s tongue across his lower lip, and suddenly he knew then that he was no longer in control, knew that his desire in the abstract was only a hint of the passion this man could inspire.

    Hakkai’s hands hooked forward abruptly to grasp Gojyo’s wrists, locking them in mutual captivity. Hakkai craned his neck, pressing his lips more urgently against Gojyo’s, taking the gentle kiss to another, more passionate level. With an imperceptible lowering of his head, he drew Gojyo back down until he again rested against the pillow. When the kiss finally broke, Gojyo pulled away, breathless and astonished by the intensity of his desire.

    “I think I’m in trouble.”

    “Your own fault,” Hakkai retorted, darting an overt, immensely enticing glance at Gojyo’s waistband. “Your pants are still on.”

    Gojyo chuckled. “I always knew you were the smart one.” Despite this easy retort, when he sat up and reached for his belt, pulling Hakkai’s wrists along with him, he found that his hands were trembling with unprecedented anticipation.

    “Here,” said Hakkai, releasing Gojyo’s wrists from his iron grasp. “Let me do it.” Without breaking contact, Hakkai slid his hands from beneath Gojyo’s unyielding fingers and undid his trousers, pushing them down past his hips until they were binding his knees. Strong hands slid between flesh and leather, urging the pants downward until Gojyo’s legs were free and he was just as exposed as his partner.

    “Smart and helpful too,” Gojyo chuckled. “I like.”

    Hakkai merely arched an eyebrow, and in a single motion, seemingly too fast for either human or demon, he reversed their positions, flipping Gojyo onto his back, hands fiercely reclaiming his wrists.

    Far from displeased by this turn of events, Gojyo found himself growing harder still, only hoping he would not embarrass himself by coming without further stimulation. This wasn’t how he had imagined it: it was far, far better. Hakkai was poised above him, straddling his hips, and dove in for another ardent kiss. Cock pressed against stomach, he could feel Hakkai’s pulse throbbing through his scar, and suddenly Gojyo wanted nothing more that to feel that pulse deep inside him, a physical manifestation of the connection he had cherished for so long. The mere thought nearly made him lose control, and he tried to recover the moment by saying, “The things I do to get you attention.”

    Hakkai tilted his head. “’Things?’ Now, that’s too harsh. Those women weren’t that unattractive.” His swollen lips curved into a bemused smile.

    “Asshole,” growled Gojyo, half-heartedly struggling to free his wrists.

    Tightening his grip with both hands and thighs, Hakkai said, “Gojyo? Shut up.”

* * *

    On schedule, the rhythmic pounding in the adjacent room began a few hours after sunset. Sanzo was planning to ignore it as usual until a particularly forceful thrust rattled the walls, sending a shower of ceiling plaster over his hair. At that point, he felt justified in uttering a string of expletives.

    “He’s at it again,” said Goku, his expression one of fascinated amusement.

    “I noticed.”

    “I didn’t see him in the tavern tonight. I wonder where he picked this one up?”

    “Who cares?” Sanzo snarled, trying not to acknowledge his awareness that something was different. The rhythm and pace were both subtly changed. He went back to his paper, hoping the episode would be brief.

    “Hey,” exclaimed Goku suddenly. “Where’s Hakkai?”

    “What?”

    “Well, he’s usually here by now. He must have gone out.”

    Sanzo tilted his head, careful to keep his curiosity well concealed behind the newspaper. There was definitely something different about that rhythm. He heard Goku stand and pace absently from one end of the room to the other, sit on the bed, and bounce experimentally a few times. With a shrug, Goku abandoned the bed and took a seat at the mahjongg table. “Hey, you want to play…?”

    “No.”

    “Oh. Then what about…?”

    “Shut. Up.”

    Goku sighed, apparently taking the hint, but he was obviously in need of someone to entertain him. “When d’you think Hakkai will come?”

    Sanzo lowered his newspaper and stared at him, eyes narrowed and searching for any hint of irony, but Goku sat wide-eyed and unblinking. The monk shook his head, and in a brief moment of generosity, decided to hand down some enlightenment. “From the sound of it, any minute now.”

End.