Hakkai hasn't let go of the towel, holding them over his shoulders the whole while, but now he brings his hands down and tucks them beneath Gojyo's jaw. Gojyo's head tilts a little upward, but he doesn't let Hakkai go, doesn't stop what he's doing with his mouth. Hakkai slides a thumb across Gojyo's cheek, tracing the paired line of scars there, and from behind his wet hair, his clear green eyes drift everywhere all at once over Gojyo's face.

...

+

It's the front door.

Perhaps it was his anxiousness that brought him to his feet before he could steady himself against the table, the back of his knees bumping against the edge of the chair seat. At the least, he was finally able to let go of his ear, dropping his shaky hand from the three silver cuffs there.

Halfway through the door, Gojyo had bent down to his boots, and with his hair -- it had started to grow back long enough to touch his chin -- fallen over his cheeks, Hakkai couldn't see his face, not just yet.

"Cats and dogs, my ass. This is more like mules and horses!" As Gojyo still wouldn't glance up from his boots, Hakkai could see neither the smirk nor the frown that must be on his face.

One after the other Gojyo pulled off his boots, but Hakkai couldn't bring himself to mind how he just tossed them into the corner, muddy and drenched, because Gojyo had in his hand a bright printed umbrella, and that was the only thing to hold Hakkai's attention the few seconds that it took Gojyo to draw it closed, shake it under the eaves, and then stand it against the wall.

"Where is that from?"

Gojyo shut the door finally on the beating noise outside. He started to reply, "Heh, borrowed it from this chick at the --" when he finally looked up and across the room at Hakkai. Gojyo's parted mouth lay still, his disapproving gaze following the just-drying trail of water from Hakkai's feet...down to the door...and then back up to Hakkai's feet. "Why the hell are you dripping wet?"

Hakkai could understand how Gojyo would sound dismayed, even livid. The ceiling bore hardly any gaping leaks, after all, and no one in their proper mind would stand under pouring water in all their clothes. But, "I don't know," he said simply to Gojyo, looking down at himself, apologetic and awkward, passing a hand over his shirt that had turned sheer and had stuck and clung to his belly. He could almost see the harsh line of risen skin there.

"You can't not know, Hakkai." Gojyo was insistent, and Hakkai couldn't think of why he shouldn't be.

It made no sense, though, how Hakkai could feel beads of sweat crawling down his neck -- for that couldn't be just water -- when he'd been all but shivering from the absence of warmth. All the same, he brought his fingers up to the top button of his shirt and began to undress. Piece by piece, he peeled off his clothes, hanging his heavy, soaked long-sleeve shirt across the back of the chair, then on top of that his heavier, soaked pair of khaki trousers, and then his dampened white underwear.

The sharp, frigid air grazed Hakkai's bare skin until Gojyo stood before him, throwing a bath towel to wrap around his quivering shoulders. "You're gonna be sneezing like nuts, idiot."

Hakkai bristled a bit, not at Gojyo calling him a name, but at the strain in Gojyo's voice, at the tightness he could hear coiled in his words. Lifting his eyes to meet Gojyo's stare, Hakkai tugged the towel off Gojyo's hands and held it up by his shoulders.

Warmth had begun to surround Hakkai again, but it wasn't warmth from the towel as much as it was warmth from Gojyo, from the fixed smell of cigarette on his fingers, and the breath slipping out of his mouth, and the very fact that he was here. Home -- not out there where it poured heavily and was too dark, or Hakkai would've been stumbling through the trees again in search of him or thinking dreary thoughts while waiting for him to get back.

In the steadfast glow of the kitchen light, the red of Gojyo's eyes was almost not red, almost as soft as an orange sunset, nothing like the fervid crimson it usually was. Unable to look away, Hakkai could feel his throat move, his shoulders stiffen. Something was spreading, burning every measure of his body, heating up what was once stark wet and cold, and not until he followed where Gojyo's eyes had slid down to did Hakkai even know that he'd grown aroused.

As though suddenly sapped of nerve, Hakkai fell into the other chair, drawing the towel around him, but he was hardening even more and he didn't...he didn't want it to stop nonetheless.

Before Hakkai, Gojyo remained still, standing, but then he sank to his knees and Hakkai could hear himself utter under his breath, his voice making a desperate kind of noise, and Gojyo was too close to him now that he must have heard it, too. Easily, especially as Hakkai barely resisted, Gojyo parted the towel that Hakkai had drawn around himself. Just as Hakkai struggled to keep his hands clutched to his towel, keep them from twining themselves through that soft red hair, Gojyo lowered his head, his lips parting, willing to ease the ache between Hakkai's legs.

+

...

The chair trembles for a few moments, as do Hakkai's thighs. Gojyo's head ceases moving, and even as he lets go of Hakkai and pulls himself to kneel up, Hakkai has his hands pressed, gentle yet unrelenting, to Gojyo's face, a thumb smearing the moistness along Gojyo's lips.

It is a few moments more, as he struggles to steady his breathing, before Hakkai drops his caressing hands and opens his eyes again. "I'll just heat up the stew, Gojyo. It won't take a min--"

"Ch', you go ahead and put on something dry. I'll take care of the stew." Gojyo gives Hakkai's knee a squeeze before he slides out from between Hakkai's legs and heaves himself up from the dank floor. "Okay?"

Hakkai nods, pushing himself up from the chair. Just before Gojyo can turn to the stove, Hakkai kisses him on the mouth, briefly yet hard. Then, "I dislike this weather," he tells Gojyo with a smile.

END

Erm, yes, old 'meme.' Sorry. <(_ _)>