[Fanfiction] - Gojyo/Hakkai - Scars
Happy birthday, butterflygirl_3. Your birthday is possibly the only thing that could ever make me write 58. :p I suspect I write 58 very badly, so I aplogise for that, but it's the thought that counts, right?
Title: Scars
Fandom: Saiyuki
Word Count: 675
Pairing: 58
Beta: Unbetaed...yes, I am a bad, wicked girl, and Sanzo should probably punish me. XD
Rating: PG-13 (Yeah, sorry babe, but...I just couldn't write 58 porn. I couldn't. :p)
Warnings: Potential OOC issues brought on by a fundamental inability to understand Hakkai's character. Fluff.
Disclaimer: Character's are, shockingly enough, not mine.
Summary: Hakkai wouldn't be Hakkai if it weren't for that scar.
Gojyo’s fingers wander idly over the puckered edges of Hakkai’s scar, exploring the familiar bumps and ridges. Hakkai murmurs in his sleep, pressing closer to Gojyo, as if his heat and vitality can somehow shield him from the steady patter of the relentless rain. Hakkai always sleeps badly in the rain, tossing and whimpering until Gojyo finally wraps long limbs around his lover’s sinewy form and cradles him close, holding him with possessive tenderness.
Hakkai will curl up against his chest, some of the tension falling from his slumbering form, his breathing hot against Gojyo’s skin. Gojyo likes to trace invisible promises on his bare back, spell out effigies and endearments which leave no mark save the ghostly memory of his touch.
He hasn’t exactly had a shortage of beautiful lovers (he can't help it, they come to him), but Hakkai blows them all out of the water. There’s something about Hakkai, some bizarre mix of danger, polite indifference and deep, aching vulnerability that sometimes makes Gojyo wish he could crawl under his lover’s skin to search out the secrets of his heart. Find the mysteries and sorrows he’s not allowed to see. But most of the time he’s content with the bits of Hakkai he does have, with the ragged breaths and first, hesitant kisses and the whispers of his name in the dark.
Hakkai had apologised once, for the scar, catching Gojyo’s fingers as though the old wound was something shameful, dirty. Gojyo hadn’t replied, had merely kissed his way down the other man’s torso and laid his lips against the rough skin, knowing it would take power beyond his to heal it, but wondering if perhaps he could cleans the poison that had been seeping from it for so long into Hakkai’s soul.
Gojyo doesn’t mind the scar. Doesn’t mind the harsh texture under his lips, or the way it stands out stark against Hakkai’s stomach. He supposes it’s ugly, in a way, a vicious reminder of blood and pain and despair. But it’s never bothered him, and somehow he can’t imagine Hakkai without it. He would never have found Hakkai if it weren’t for that scar. Hakkai wouldn’t be in his bed, smelling of herbs and fresh linen and soap if it weren’t for that scar. He wouldn’t have woken up for weeks to the smell of cooking breakfast and a polite smile, which he slowly wore down to a genuine smile, if it weren’t for that scar.
Hakkai wouldn’t be Hakkai if it weren’t for that scar.
Hakkai stirs, murmurs, looks up at Gojyo with that chipped-emerald eye. His hair is dishevelled, falling into his face, his shirt hanging open reveal his throat and collarbones. He looks delicious.
‘Gojyo?’
Gojyo leans down and presses a kiss against Hakkai’s soft lips, lingering for a little longer than he should. Hakkai reaches up to toy with a strand of his hair, curling his fingers around the back of Gojyo’s neck and pulling him closer. They kiss languorously for a little longer before Hakkai pulls away and rests his head against Gojyo’s chest, just above his heart. Gojyo sighs contentedly, Hakkai’s taste lingering on his lips.
‘Just admiring the view,’ Gojyo explains. He wonders what Hakkai would think if he knew how often he did that; lay awake and watched his lover sleep.
‘The rain hasn’t slackened,’ Hakkai observes, voice husky with exhaustion.
They both fall silent, listening to the rhythmic patter of drops hitting the tin roof. Gojyo reaches down to twine his fingers with Hakkai’s, his other arm pulling Hakkai closer. He holds Hakkai’s hand as the other man slowly gives himself back into the solitude of sleep.
Because he may not be able to heal Hakkai’s scar, and he may not be able to give Hakkai everything he once wanted, and he may not be perfect or selfless, but as the rain drums down mercilessly and he listens to Hakkai’s slow breathing, he does make one promise.
He promises that, while he still has breath, Hakkai will never have to sleep alone with the rain and his nightmares.
Don't know if I'm going to pimp this...I don't know if it's good enough. Sorry it isn't better, Nessa-chan.
Ok, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go write 53 porn now.
Title: Scars
Fandom: Saiyuki
Word Count: 675
Pairing: 58
Beta: Unbetaed...yes, I am a bad, wicked girl, and Sanzo should probably punish me. XD
Rating: PG-13 (Yeah, sorry babe, but...I just couldn't write 58 porn. I couldn't. :p)
Warnings: Potential OOC issues brought on by a fundamental inability to understand Hakkai's character. Fluff.
Disclaimer: Character's are, shockingly enough, not mine.
Summary: Hakkai wouldn't be Hakkai if it weren't for that scar.
Gojyo’s fingers wander idly over the puckered edges of Hakkai’s scar, exploring the familiar bumps and ridges. Hakkai murmurs in his sleep, pressing closer to Gojyo, as if his heat and vitality can somehow shield him from the steady patter of the relentless rain. Hakkai always sleeps badly in the rain, tossing and whimpering until Gojyo finally wraps long limbs around his lover’s sinewy form and cradles him close, holding him with possessive tenderness.
Hakkai will curl up against his chest, some of the tension falling from his slumbering form, his breathing hot against Gojyo’s skin. Gojyo likes to trace invisible promises on his bare back, spell out effigies and endearments which leave no mark save the ghostly memory of his touch.
He hasn’t exactly had a shortage of beautiful lovers (he can't help it, they come to him), but Hakkai blows them all out of the water. There’s something about Hakkai, some bizarre mix of danger, polite indifference and deep, aching vulnerability that sometimes makes Gojyo wish he could crawl under his lover’s skin to search out the secrets of his heart. Find the mysteries and sorrows he’s not allowed to see. But most of the time he’s content with the bits of Hakkai he does have, with the ragged breaths and first, hesitant kisses and the whispers of his name in the dark.
Hakkai had apologised once, for the scar, catching Gojyo’s fingers as though the old wound was something shameful, dirty. Gojyo hadn’t replied, had merely kissed his way down the other man’s torso and laid his lips against the rough skin, knowing it would take power beyond his to heal it, but wondering if perhaps he could cleans the poison that had been seeping from it for so long into Hakkai’s soul.
Gojyo doesn’t mind the scar. Doesn’t mind the harsh texture under his lips, or the way it stands out stark against Hakkai’s stomach. He supposes it’s ugly, in a way, a vicious reminder of blood and pain and despair. But it’s never bothered him, and somehow he can’t imagine Hakkai without it. He would never have found Hakkai if it weren’t for that scar. Hakkai wouldn’t be in his bed, smelling of herbs and fresh linen and soap if it weren’t for that scar. He wouldn’t have woken up for weeks to the smell of cooking breakfast and a polite smile, which he slowly wore down to a genuine smile, if it weren’t for that scar.
Hakkai wouldn’t be Hakkai if it weren’t for that scar.
Hakkai stirs, murmurs, looks up at Gojyo with that chipped-emerald eye. His hair is dishevelled, falling into his face, his shirt hanging open reveal his throat and collarbones. He looks delicious.
‘Gojyo?’
Gojyo leans down and presses a kiss against Hakkai’s soft lips, lingering for a little longer than he should. Hakkai reaches up to toy with a strand of his hair, curling his fingers around the back of Gojyo’s neck and pulling him closer. They kiss languorously for a little longer before Hakkai pulls away and rests his head against Gojyo’s chest, just above his heart. Gojyo sighs contentedly, Hakkai’s taste lingering on his lips.
‘Just admiring the view,’ Gojyo explains. He wonders what Hakkai would think if he knew how often he did that; lay awake and watched his lover sleep.
‘The rain hasn’t slackened,’ Hakkai observes, voice husky with exhaustion.
They both fall silent, listening to the rhythmic patter of drops hitting the tin roof. Gojyo reaches down to twine his fingers with Hakkai’s, his other arm pulling Hakkai closer. He holds Hakkai’s hand as the other man slowly gives himself back into the solitude of sleep.
Because he may not be able to heal Hakkai’s scar, and he may not be able to give Hakkai everything he once wanted, and he may not be perfect or selfless, but as the rain drums down mercilessly and he listens to Hakkai’s slow breathing, he does make one promise.
He promises that, while he still has breath, Hakkai will never have to sleep alone with the rain and his nightmares.
Don't know if I'm going to pimp this...I don't know if it's good enough. Sorry it isn't better, Nessa-chan.
Ok, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go write 53 porn now.