The book in my hands is a truly lovely thing: blue-green leather covers stamped in complicated golden swirls, marbled endpapers, thick, creamy pages bearing only a hint of brittleness despite its great age. Even the typesetting of the poems seems to betray an artist's careful eye; clearly this volume was designed to be savored and cherished, a treat for all the reader's senses.

Which makes it such a great shame, I think, that my mind keeps wandering whenever I try to focus on the actual text.

...And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.

With a quiet sigh, I lay my book down on the kitchen table. It was simply no use pretending to read any more -- there's no one to see, after all, and I had no hope of even fooling myself when my eyes simply scanned blankly over the same lines again and again. But I had used a quiet night reading as my excuse to beg off accompanying Gojyo to the bar tonight, and I didn't want that justification to be a complete lie; I have too many other deceptions weighing down my tired conscience already. It stings me all the worse because he'd taken that particular lie so very sweetly: oh, he'd smirked, and made wisecracks about my preferring a dry old book to the beauties waiting for us at the bar, but his eyes were shining the whole time. It was the same look they'd held when he gave me the book yesterday; he was scarcely through the door before he'd shoved the newspaper-wrapped parcel into my hands. Go on, it's for you, open it! he'd insisted, as artlessly demanding as a child. That town Sanzo's little job was in, they had this store... The guy there said this was really old and rare, translations of a poet from the far, far west...it's the sort of thing y'like, isn't it? And that bright smile had faltered for a moment until I unwrapped the book and made all the proper exclamations of appreciation; then it reappeared, lighting up his face like the sun coming from behind the clouds. My heart aches, just remembering the sight; he was so happy just to be able to give a friend a gift for no occasion, when he'd already given me more than I could ever hope to repay in a single lifetime. I don't deserve a friendship like that; I certainly have no right to dream of asking for more than he's already given. But I am far too base and selfish to be able to stop myself from wanting.

It's a futile dream, of course. Gojyo has no interest in men; he's made that quite clear often enough. I would have said the same about myself, once, but that was another life ago. I had been ready to die after losing Kanan, but he picked me up, gave me a second chance to live, stood by me and asked for nothing in return. And I'd have sworn at first that in this new life, the shrivelled remnant of my heart was too small to ever love again...but that was before I finally realized that he was somehow in my heart already, as basic and necessary to my life as air. Perhaps this is a new aspect of the penance I can never hope to complete; where once I saw only the bloody reminder of my own crimes in his crimson hair and eyes, now I can only see beauty -- beauty like a living flame, comforting and warm at a proper distance, but impossible to grasp in one's hands. And yet...and yet I want so very much to reach out to that fire and let it consume me.

But I'm only one of the many moths drawn irresistibly to that brilliant flame. He's surrounded by them right now, without a doubt; a king holding court in a shabby throne room reeking of beer and cigarettes and cheap perfume. The women will be surrounding Gojyo, as they always do; laughing, flirting, touching. Or maybe he's already chosen this night's conquest, already gone to her home, as he always does. For all that he still can't quite remember to use an ashtray or refrain from scattering dirty socks on the floor, in this one thing at least he's a paragon of consideration. He never brings his women to our tiny house, where the small rooms and thin walls would do almost nothing to filter out any noises they might make. It's not something we've ever really spoken of, but he knows that I've not been with anyone since Kanan, and he's long since abandoned his clumsy efforts to play matchmaker for me with his barroom friends. Knowing his kind heart, he probably thinks I'm still grieving too much for love or lust, thinks it would be cruel to allow his overheard bedroom antics to remind me of everything I've lost. He has no idea it's not the love I've lost but the love I know I can never have that tortures me the most now. And for the sake of our friendship, Gojyo can never know this. It pains me to deceive him, but I know the truth would hurt him even more than I can bear to consider. It's yet another secret pain in a situation that is full of the unbearable; it's difficult enough just to tame the jealous rage that coils through my mind when I watch the bargirls draping themselves over him, or think about what he might be doing with one of them right now...

With a groan, I slip off my monocle so I can rub my aching forehead. The images flood my mind, unbidden and unbiddable: scarlet hair flowing loose over tanned skin, wine-dark eyes half-closed as that leanly muscled form moves against some faceless woman lost in shadow, smirking lips moving in whispered endearments. This is what I'd hoped to avoid by staying away from the bar tonight, to no avail. The vision of Gojyo lost in pleasure burns in my mind, and my body burns in answer to it, aches with despair and jealousy and anger and unappeasable lust. My chest is achngly hollow, and I'm so hard it hurts; I'm torn between the urge to touch myself and banish the ache for a little while, and the knowledge of the ultimate futility of such actions in fighting the deeper emptiness... And then the front door rattles open, startling me out of my guilty reverie; Gojyo is standing in the doorway, flushed and rumpled like the answer to a debauched prayer. Red eyes, all the redder for being faintly bloodshot, take in the scene in our front room; as they pass over me and the book lying open under my hand, his mouth quirks into a familiar teasing grin.

"Still busy with your hot date, Hakkai? Guess you're th' only one who scored tonight, after all!" His voice is faintly slurred, and he laughs as he shuts the door and shrugs out of his leather jacket. He's made only the most token of efforts at buttoning the shirt underneath it, and I try not to stare too obviously at the smooth flesh revealed by the shifting cloth as he sways towards the table. Even stumbling drunk as he is, there's such a careless, loose-limbed grace to his movements, like he's halfway dancing to music only he can hear. I school my face into its usual smiling mask as he drops into the chair next to mine.

"Ah, Gojyo, I wasn't expecting to see you back so early. Did you have a pleasant evening?"

His grin goes wolfish as he pulls a crumpled mass of bills and coins from his pockets. "Had t'quit the game early, my luck was running so damn good. Didn't wanna leave the regulars too broke to fleece for more next time."

"Mmm, how very charitable of you. So, I take it you expended so much good fortune at cards that there was none left over to use on the ladies?" I can't resist letting the bitterness slip out for a second, though I conceal it as best as I can under my usual light tone. Strangely enough, Gojyo's answering laugh seems equally forced.

"Ha, as if! You know damn well that th' handsome Sha Gojyo has a surplus of luck in that area. Sometimes I almost feel guilty about being so hot, y'know, it's like shootin' fish in a barrel. The poor babes never stand a chance when I turn on th' charm. I gotta take a night off once in a while jus' to give the rest of the guys a fair chance t'score..."

"So I see. Charitable and humble -- you're a veritable boddhisattva." He laughs again, a little louder, but I can't help but notice the shadows in his eyes. I'm not the only one at this table who hides behind a mask, but Gojyo's is just paper-thin and near transparent to anyone who knows him well. I can read his tells all too easily, and not just at the poker table; right now, they're all screaming wordlessly that something is bothering him. His grin fades a bit as he lowers his gaze to the heap of money on the table; long fingers toy with the pile, idly sorting the coins into ever-shifting patterns. I sit back and patiently watch and wait; he'll speak when he's ready.

When he finally breaks the silence, his voice is quieter, all pretense of braggadocio gone. "There was this girl..." he begins, as so many of his stories do; I have to fight back an inappropriate laugh at the predictability of it all. "New in town, don't think you've met her yet. Kinda on th' skinny side, but a real sweet face. Pretty eyes, long blonde hair. And she was way into me. Total sure thing..."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, jealousy and sympathy are clawing at each other. Sympathy wins, as it always must when I sense Gojyo is unhappy. "So, what happened?"

"She wouldn't shut up about my hair. Kept goin' on and on about the 'pretty' color, kept tryin' to play with it even when I pulled it back up..." He gestures vaguely towards his high, sloppy ponytail. "Just wouldn't take a fucking hint. And it was too goddamn much. I know that damn monk's right, blood's not th' only thing that's red, but...I couldn't deal. I tried to get past it, I really fucking TRIED, but I couldn't. I just had t'get out of there before I lost my cool." His voice is steady, but his hands are clenched into fists now. I ghost my fingertips over the whitened knuckles, knowing he needs the simple comfort of touch more than I need to spare myself the ache of touching him.

"I'm so sorry, Gojyo." He finally raises his eyes to meet mine again, peering out through the shadow of those improbably long lashes, and the liquid sorrow in his gaze makes my breath catch in my throat.

"Like it's your fault I'm too stupid t'shake off my freakin' mommy issues? You don't need to feel sorry for me, Hakkai, I've got enough damn self-pity to go around for th' both of us." He rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, reaching up to untie his hair. "Shit...damn thing's all knotted up!" Gojyo scowls and mutters curses under his breath as he tugs at the stubborn band. I'm on my feet before I can give myself a chance for second thoughts, moving to stand behind his chair and brush his hands aside before he can hurt himself.

"Now, now, Gojyo, you're just going to rip your hair out if you keep that up. Allow me, please." He makes a faint grumbling noise but sits perfectly still as my fingers work at the snarl. "Really, a plain rubber band? You know those just knot hair dreadfully, Gojyo. You really should be using a proper elastic instead..."

"It was handy..." he mumbles, sounding so petulant that I can't restrain a smile.

"And now you're paying for that carelessness. Let that be a lesson to you, Gojyo. I'm doing my best to help here, but this is truly an impressive tangle you've created." He snorts a bit at my teasing words but says nothing. I work slowly, carefully trying to unsnarl the mess without yanking out any hair. And, if I'm to be honest with myself, that careful slowness is also due to my selfishly trying to prolong this excuse to keep my hands there, with his crimson locks flowing through my fingers, as smooth and cool as water. His hair smells of tobacco and clove shampoo and the warm musk of his skin; I lean forward a little to better drink in the scent, aching to just bury my face in that silken mass and breathe for an eternity.

The offending rubber band finally springs free, and I toss it onto the table with a disgusted sniff. I should stop now, I know, with my self-assigned task done I've no good excuse to linger. But his hair feels so soft and perfect under my hand, and he's making no move to pull away... so perhaps I can steal another moment? I reach for the comb in my back pocket, a necessity in keeping my own unruly thatch in some semblance of control. My heart is thudding so heavily in my chest that I'm half afraid he could hear the thumping if he tried. "Really, Gojyo..." I chide lightly as I lift the comb, "these tangles are utterly frightful. If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd been using a rake instead of a hairbrush!" I hold my breath, half expecting him to protest or pull away from the first stroke, but instead he just sighs and sinks down a bit in the chair, some of the tension draining from his posture. I have to remind myself to keep my breathing steady as I work the comb through his hair ever so slowly, gently teasing the snarls loose one by one. I have to savor every second of this I'm allowed to enjoy; any minute now, he could pull away from my hands, tell me to stop.

Any minute now, he'll surely realize that the last tangle is long gone and I'm just running the comb over hair that's already smooth as glass.

Any minute now, he's sure to notice that the comb is barely touching his hair, it's just there as the flimsiest excuse for me to trail my fingers against that glorious red silk. So soft, so cool, so liquid, and yet Goku was wrong all those years ago: that blazing hair does have the power to burn at a touch...

I'm hard as iron and my blood is roaring in my ears. I know that I have to stop before he notices, before I ruin everything between us. My hands are starting to shake and it's a struggle just to hold them still; I can't seem to muster up the will to pull them away. And then Gojyo makes a small, quiet sound, a happy sort of humming noise deep in his throat, and leans back into my hands like a giant cat. Suddenly I can't move a muscle, can barely even remember to breathe.

His voice is low and thick, nearly a sleepy mumble. "Sorry, Hakkai...'m so sorry..."

"Sorry? What ever for, Gojyo?" My voice sounds tight and strained even to my own ears; I hope he's too drunk or tired to notice the odd tone.

"Sorry I'm such a screwup. Can't even manage m'own damn hair without needin' you to come an' clean up the mess I've made. Mebbe I should jus' cut it all off again...less hassle that way, right?"

My fingers clutch briefly at his hair, a possessive reflex I can't quite stifle in time. "Oh, no, that would be far too weak a justification for destroying a thing of beauty..." He sits up straight now, stiff with tension, and to my horror I realize I must have murmured my thoughts out loud. My hands finally slip away to hang limply at my sides; the ache in my chest feels like it's about to suck me into nothingness.

"Beautiful?" Gojyo's voice is a cracked whisper, tearing me apart with each quiet syllable.

"Forgive me, please, Gojyo. That was a thoughtless remark. I know you didn't need to hear that, especially not now of all nights..." My voice trails off, weak and useless as my futile words. He's shoving his chair away from the table, slowly rising to his feet like a sleepwalker, and I find myself wondering if he'll just storm away in furious silence or stop to punch me first. It would be no more than I deserve. But there's no anger or disgust in his face when he finally turns around, just a soft, confused look that makes me feel like I am truly the lowliest of sinners.

"You...you think my hair is beautiful?"

"I'm sorry, Gojyo. I had no right to mention that. Please, if you can find it in your heart, forget that I said anything. I never meant to..."

He leans in closer, red eyes blazing into my own. I'm ashamed to meet that open gaze but can't tear my eyes away. Strong hands clutch at my shoulders, his fingers digging in tightly, almost to the point of pain. "Beautiful?" he whispers again, and I shut my eyes, sick and ashamed.

"I'm no better than that thoughtless girl you left at the bar. I don't deserve your forgiveness, and if you want me to leave, Gojyo, I understand complete--"

"Shut up," he rasps, moving close enough that I can feel his warm breath gusting against my cheek. And then -- oh gods -- his mouth is crashing against mine, hot and hungry and insistent. This can't possibly be real; my mind must have finally snapped for good. But it feels so real, so real and impossibly sweet, as his arms wrap around me crushingly tight and his tongue laps greedily against my lips, pleading, demanding. I can't hold back a moan, and he drinks it in, devours me with a mouth that tastes of whiskey and tobacco and him. Suddenly I can finally understand how this burning creature can still be water youkai, for he's like a wave dragging me under, leaving me drowning right here on dry land. My hands skim up over his back to bury themselves in his hair, and he groans at the touch, deepening the kiss and grinding his hips against mine. He's as hard as I am, harder, and none of my most secret, shameful dreams have ever been half as good as this moment...

When he finally pulls away from the kiss I find myself growling in frustration, tugging at his hair to try to pull his mouth back to mine. Gojyo laughs and cups my chin in one hand. "Hakkai. HAKKAI. Look at me. Please." I don't want to open my eyes, don't want to wake up from this dream, but something in the way he says my name is impossible to refuse. I look...and almost want to look away again: his smile is brighter than his hair, blazing like the noonday sun in a cloudless sky.

"I'm dreaming," I whisper hoarsely, through a mouth suddenly gone bone-dry. He laughs again, and his smile somehow, impossibly, goes brighter still.

"Then we're both dreamin'. It's a good dream."

"No. I'm dreaming. You are drunk. And in the morning, this will be nothing but a nightmare to you when you're awake and sober." Something inside me dies a little at the thought, but he just chuckles and rolls his hips, making me gasp at the flood of sensation.

His voice drops seductively, warm and smoky and hungry as his kiss. "Don't think so. I've had this dream before too, Hakkai, had it lotsa times. And th' only bad part was wakin' up and having it not be real. This?" He pulls me a little closer, his breath hitching as my fingers tighten in his hair. "This is real."

I want to believe him so very badly. "Prove it."

And he does just that with eager lips and hands, pulling me close, drinking me in, tearing at my clothes, until somehow we're finally both naked and rolling together on the floor. I bury my face in his hair and breathe deep, drowning in the scent of his skin, in the sound of his ragged voice chanting my name like a prayer. We shift and slide together, a tangle of desperately intertwined limbs, and then his hand has slipped between us to find our cocks, is pumping them together until I'm bucking helplessly against him, coming so hard that I feel like I'm shattering into a million pieces.

When I drift back to myself, limp and boneless and floating, he's still pressed close against me, warm and hard. "Hakkai. Oh fuck, Hakkai..." I open my eyes to see him slowly licking my spend off his hand, one finger at a time; his crimson eyes glitter as they meet mine, and I shiver at the obscene promise in his gaze. One last lick, and he shifts to hover over me, his hair falling about us like a curtain as he lowers his head to kiss me again, gently this time. I groan out his name as I taste myself on his lips, and he's smiling again, soft and infinitely wicked, as he twists away to lie at my side.

"Gojyo...I'm sorry, you didn't..." He presses a finger to my lips, shushing me as he lazily thrusts against my hip a few times.

"Don't try to tell me that wasn't long overdue for you. Worry about yourself for a change, Hakkai..." His hands are skimming over me, soothing and inflaming every place they touch. "Because once you've caught your breath, I'm gonna make sure you've got plenty to worry about."

Gojyo's hands drifting over my body are impossibly warm and knowing, and I want so very badly to just abandon myself to them. But my traitorous mind has latched onto his husky words and keeps turning them over and over. I'm a worrier, he's right about that; how can I not be, when my friends at times have so litle concern for their own well-being? And now, lying here naked and spent on the floor beside my oldest, dearest friend, those fears come blazing back to life. Gojyo is so trusting, so selfless under all his smirking bravado, and I...

I catch one of those maddening, teasing hands by the wrist, holding it still against my chest as I sit up. I'm afraid to let myself look at his face just now, but I'm too weak to completely tear myself away from him, either.

"Perhaps you should be the one to worry, Gojyo..." I murmur. "Have you thought about this at all -- beyond those obvious fantasies, that is? You know that I am not always as...stable...as could be wished..."

He snorts quietly as he sits up beside me, scooting up close enough to rest his stubbled chin on my left shoulder. I shiver a little as his hair slides across my bare skin. "Yeah, so you're a little crazy sometimes, an' you're one seriously scary fucker when you let yourself go all youkai. So what else is new? You ain't gonna scare me off that easy, Hakkai."

"This is nothing to be flippant about, Gojyo! If my control were to slip, if I were ever to hurt you, I..." His free arm snakes around my chest, pulling me back closer to him. I can't seem to summon up the willpower to tear myself away from the warmth of that embrace.

"You won't." His voice in my ear is quiet, confident, as if he were stating the most obvious of facts.

"You can't be certain of that, Gojyo. You know better than anyone the sort of madness I am capable of."

"Bullshit. You'd never hurt me, Hakkai. I trust you, OK? Even if you don't trust yourself." His lips brush lightly over my ear; when they pass over my limiters an electric jolt runs down my spine, making me shiver and gasp. He chuckles at my reaction, lean arms tightening around me. "You're such a damn perfectionist, always being so hard on yourself...can't you turn off that worrywart for a while and be hard on me instead?"

The familiar leering tone that's crept back into his voice makes me smile in spite of myself. "You're absolutely incorrigible, Gojyo..." I breathe, turning to nuzzle against his unscarred cheek. He sighs and leans into me, sighs again, deeper, when I release my grip on his hand so I can once more reach up and run my fingers through his hair.

"You really like it?" His voice is soft, hesitant and half-muffled against my neck.

"Your hair, you mean? 'Like' is such an inadequate word..." I catch up a lock that's fallen over his face and lift it to my lips, pressing a kiss into that impossible liquid fire. Now it's Gojyo's turn to shiver, and I can't help but feel a selfish little wave of triumph as he shudders against me. "But yes, Gojyo, I really do like your hair. Very, very much."

"I didn't know...y'never said a thing, except the nagging when it needed a trim...oh, shit. No way... Were you getting off every time you gave us all haircuts on the road, Hakkai?"

"Not...everybody. Your haircuts were the only ones that had, ah, ulterior as well as practical motives..." My face is burning now, and Gojyo's sudden bark of laughter does nothing to relieve my mortification.

"And everybody thinks I'm th' big perv here? Oh, man, I guess they're right when they say it's always the quiet ones you gottta watch out for!" His laughter is so open and infectious that I can't quite repress a faint chuckle of my own; the situation between us really is rather absurd. Gojyo tightens his embrace for a moment, then slips away; I turn to protest the sudden loss of contact, but the words die on my lips as he flings himself back down to sprawl on the floor, this time with his head and shoulders on my lap. His skin is so radiantly warm wherever it touches mine, and his hair is cool silk draped over my thighs, and his face...the look on his face is so heartbreakingly open, so full of trust. It's almost too much to bear, too good and too bright for a creature like me; I have to close my eyes for a second. But my hands still seem to be working without my conscious control, drifting down inexorably to tangle themselves in his hair. Gojyo makes that happy little noise again, shifting against my hands. I open my eyes again slowly, only to see that his have drifted shut. I want so very much to lean over and kiss those feathery lashes, but he looks so peaceful, so relaxed, that I'm loath to disturb him.

Time seems to slow down as I sit there in peaceful silence, stroking his hair and watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. His long arms and legs are sprawled out randomly, yet for all the artlessness of the pose there's such a compelling beauty in that lithe form. I could happily spend hours just studying that whipcord musculature, the faint tracery of pale old scars against the warm gold of his skin, the cock lying heavy amidst darker red hair...

When he finally speaks again, he doesn't bother to open his eyes, and his voice has once again drifted to a sleepy mumble. "Hakkai? Why didn't y'ever say anything?"

"About liking your hair? Or...about you?"

"Yeah. That. Both."

"Neither subject ever seemed appropriate, Gojyo. By the time I realized my...attraction...I was also well aware of how much it disturbed you to have your hair admired. And you made it amply clear from the very beginning of our acquaintance that you had no interest in men. I saw nothing to be gained from subjecting you to attentions that were so certain to be unwanted."

He shakes his head and laughs softly, eyes still closed. "Yeah, but...'s different. It's YOU."

"Ah, and who am I to argue against such irrefutable logic!" He laughs again at my teasing words, lips curving into a faint smile.

"No, really, Hakkai! It is so diff'rent. Y'know what the color means, know it's not some sort of freakin' fashion statement. You can see the blood an' the shame and all, but you're not disgusted by it, by me...?" His voice is quiet, full of wonder, and it squeezes at my heart.

"Oh, Gojyo..." I bend down to kiss his forehead, murmuring against his skin. "I became a monster through my own actions. How could a creature like me look down on you for a simple accident of birth?"

"You're no monster," he grumbles, pouting as I pull away from the kiss.

"If you insist...but I am still a man. And you've never been one to miss an opportunity to express your enthusiastic, and exclusive, interest in women."

He blushes a bit at my words, the flush on his tanned cheeks faintly echoing the brighter red of his hair. "Mostly exclusive..." he mumbles. "I mean, at first, when I was taking care of you and everything, I wanted t'make sure you didn't get the wrong idea..."

"And later on?" He's so remarkably pretty like this; part of my mind is wondering what else I could do to provoke a blush from one who's usually so shameless.

"And later on I just kept talking shit as usual, 'cause that's what I do. And since you never so much as gave a freakin' hint that you were into guys, I figured it would help keep up my cover if I ever slipped and did somethin' weird around you."

"So I see. We both really are rather pathetic on the communication front, aren't we?"

"Mmmmm...at least this time I didn't have t'play hostage to cut through all the stupid, eh?" His tone is lightly teasing, but a spike of jealousy stabs through me as I remember how carelessly he'd risked his life. It's unfair, and none of my business, but I can't seem to stop the bitter words from spilling out.

"So...was Banri-san another exception to the women-only, at least usually, rule?"

"What? Me and Ban? Oh, please! Well, OK, maybe there was a little drunken groping once in a while, but that was it. Not that he wouldn't have been up for more, but...I always knew I could only trust him so far, y'know?"

It's like peeling a scab, really: I know I should stop, but my mouth just keeps running on in spite of myself. "Oh, so he wasn't the first, then?"

Red eyes flash open to glare up at me. "You're the first guy who matters, Hakkai. The first one I actually want."

That sick, hollow feeling in my chest is back now, with a vengeance. I've crossed a line somewhere with my pettiness, and I don't know how to fix what I've broken. "I don't understand..." I murmur, eyes downcast, unable to face Gojyo's accusing stare. He shrugs off my hands and sits up, facing away from me; the lean planes of his back are a study in tension.

"There's nothin' to understand, really." His voice is flat and distant, strangely small. "I was a skinny little brat alone on the streets. I did whatever I had to do to survive. And if the 'whatever' was a 'whoever' some of the time, well, I'm not fuckin' sorry. It kept me alive until I was big enough to find easier ways of makin' a living."

"Gojyo, I..." My voice trails off uselessly; what can I possibly say to him here? I'm sickened to hear of another cruelty this brave soul has had to endure, enraged at the thought of the men who'd used the desperate child he once was, and most of all disgusted with myself for so thoughtlessly dragging this old pain to the surface. I know he doesn't want my pity, but what else can I offer? I hold my breath as I reach out to lay a hand on his shoulder; Gojyo's back stiffens a bit more at the touch, but at least he doesn't flinch away. Leaning forward, I rest my forehead against his spine, breathing in the musk and salt of his skin as I feebly grasp for words. "Gojyo...I didn't know."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I'm gonna brag about it. Fuck, I've got enough strikes against me as it is, drifter hanyou with no skills beyond gambling and fighting and pickin' up tarts, it ain't like I need to add 'kiddie whore' to that list to make sure folks have enough to sneer at."

"You're so much more than that, Gojyo," I whisper, struggling to keep my voice from breaking. "Your kindness, your resilience and bravery...beside you, I am deeply humbled."

"Don't talk crazy, Hakkai," he mutters gruffly.

"It's the simple truth, Gojyo. And I was right earlier, too -- look how I've hurt you already, and I didn't even need to raise a hand to do it. You're far better than I could ever deserve..."

"And didn't I already tell you to shut up with that crap?" His tone's softened somewhat, enough to give me sufficient hope to risk a desperate gamble.

"Yes, yes you did. Clearly I'm just a regrettably slow learner. Perhaps if you reinforced the lesson the same way you did earlier...?" He turns slowly to face me again; there's still a shadow of pain in his eyes, but that dear, mischievous sparkle is returning as well.

"Freak," he huffs, roughly tousling my hair. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close, press my lips softly against the corner of his mouth in a wordless plea for forgiveness.

"Your freak," I whisper, planting another kiss over his eyes. "If you'll still have me..." and I brush the hair out of his face to kiss the twin scars on his cheek. Gojyo whimpers faintly and then he's crushing me close to his chest again, raining hungry biting kisses onto my ear, my neck, my shoulder, groaning as my hands drift back to clutch greedily at his hair.

Maybe, just maybe, I haven't ruined everything after all.

His teeth and tongue are doing something impossibly, maddeningly good to the base of my throat, making it remarkably difficult to think or catch my breath. "G-Gojyo?"

"Hmmm?" He licks across my collarbone, and the wet pressure of that tongue, the silken slide of hair across my chest, leaves me gasping. I tug at his hair to pull his head back, needing to stop before I lose myself completely; but the heat in those burning eyes is almost as maddening as the touch of those flushed, kiss-swollen lips had been.

"Gojyo..." I try again, but he slowly licks his lips and it's all I can do not to lean back in and ravish that teasing mouth.

"Yeah?" he drawls, smirking wickedly at my discomfiture. I shut my eyes and force myself to concentrate.

"Why are we still on the floor, when there's a perfectly seviceable bed in the next room?" The words spill out in a breathless tumble. I open my eyes to see him blinking owlishly for a moment; then he throws back his head and laughs, laughs so hard his shoulders are shaking as he staggers to his feet and hauls me up to join him.

"Because we're both idiots?" he grins.

"Mmmm, that seems a most plausible theory," I concur, placing another kiss on the strong hand grasping mine. "Drunken idiots, in your case. I do believe you should lean on me to ensure that you don't fall down before you even make it to bed."

"Right, right, good idea." His voice is theatrically slurred as he slings his arms around my shoulders. "I'm so stinkin' drunk that I bet I can't even find the bed without help...but you'll take care of me, right?" He's chuckling under his breath, tongue flicking wetly across my ear until I'm stumbling almost as badly as he is. The walk across the tiny front room has never seemed so long before, but somehow we finally manage to stagger through the bedroom door without tripping over our own feet. Gojyo flops back heavily onto the bed, and he's so wantonly beautiful lying there sprawled before me that my breath catches in my throat.

"Aren't you comin' to bed too?" His voice is a husky promise, sending shivers down my spine.

"Ah, not just yet, Gojyo. There's something I need to do first." And before he can ask, before I can stop to let myself think and lose my nerve, I drop to my knees alongside the bed and take him in my mouth.

"Hakkai...oh fuck, HAKKAI..." My name trails off into a moan as he surges halfway off the mattress only to crash back down, fingers clawing at the rucked-up sheets. The rest of the world might as well have vanished, there's no room in my senses for anything but Gojyo writhing under me, all heat and musk and the salt-sweat of his skin, the bitter tang of precome weeping onto my awkward tongue and the sound of his voice groaning out incoherent obscenities. I've never done this before, had feared my lack of experience would make me hopelessly inept, but he seems not to care; his hips are bucking helplessly as I lick and suck at his cock, stroke his quivering thighs, and his gasping curses are getting louder and more garbled by the second. I'm drowning again, losing myself in the flood of sensation, and when his stream of curses shifts to my name, panted and desperate, it takes a long moment before I can even recognize the familiar syllables.

"Hakkai...shit, if you don't stop soon, oh gods, Hakkai, it's too good..." I lift my head away from his groin to look up for a moment, only to see Gojyo struggling to lean up on his elbows to watch me. His hair is tousled, falling wildly over his face, and his eyes are dark, dilated so much that the red is almost lost against the blackness of the pupils. I've never seen anything so inhumanly beautiful, and the thought that I'm the one who's reduced him to this state brings a predatory smile to my lips. He groans at the sight, eyes squeezing shut as his hips twitch under my grasping hands.

"But Gojyo, I've been thinking about this for such a very long time. I don't particularly want to stop now." My voice is a cool, evil purr, and he groans louder, bucking up to meet me as I suck him down as deeply as I can manage. He's too big, and I'm too unpracticed, for me to take his full length; my eyes are watering with the strain but I want more, want enough to make me forget all the lonely, hopeless nights, enough to keep him here with me. He's panting like a dog now, all speech lost in one long wordless moan, and then his hips are thrusting so wildly that I almost choke as his cock pulses, flooding my mouth with wet heat. I swallow down as much as I can, strange yet almost familiar somehow, bitter-salt laced with a faint hint of sweetness; I can still taste him on my tongue, my lips, yet I already want more.

My legs are shaking as I climb up onto the bed to lie next to Gojyo. He's gleaming with sweat, radiating heat like an oven. I brush away the darkened strands of hair that are clinging to his face, trail my fingers over the ridged lines of those familiar scars. There's a tiny smear of blood blossoming on his bottom lip where he must have bitten himself, and he moans softly as I kiss it away, long arms languidly drifting up to pull me closer. "Gojyo..." I breathe against his sweat-dampened hair, "you need to let go of me so I can clean up."

"Nuh-uh. Stay." His arms wrap tighter around me as he mumbles petulantly against my shoulder.

"But Gojyo, we're both really a dreadful mess right now."

"Mmmhmm. And it's just gonna get worse. No point cleanin' up now."

"You're half-asleep already, Gojyo..."

"Tha's just 'cause I drank too much, didn't have a clue I was gonna get this lucky tonight, did I?" He sighs and burrows closer against my shoulder, drapes a leg over mine. "But just 'cause I need to sleep it off a bit doesn't mean we're done yet, y'know."

"Oh, we're not, are we?"

"Nope. You're not the only one who's been thinkin' about stuff for a long time, Hakkai. I've barely even started on that list, and I'm already gettin' some new ideas..."

"You don't say..." I smile, brushing my lips against his tousled hair.

"Yeah....like say, if you're so into th' hair thing, I was wondering what you'd do if I wrapped some around your dick and jerked you off that way." I draw in a deep, shuddering breath at the images his words conjure; he laughs softly and snuggles up closer. "And that's jus' the beginning, Hakkai. Just stay here with me, an' you'll see."

"Ahh...how can I argue against such eloquent persuasion?"

"Tha's the spirit. Sweet dreams, H'kai..." He's warm and pliant wrapped around me, and in all truthfulness I don't want to leave that embrace; I want to stay here, holding him close and listening to his breath slowing as sleep steals over him.

"They already are, Gojyo," I whisper into his hair, and close my eyes.