Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3
Theme: Seven Deadly Sins - Lust
Rating: R for language, slight m/m implications
Author's Note: 500 words. Right, so, someday I will make the deadline. I look forward to that day. Also, why is this not a sex scene? I'd planned for it to be; I mean, it's lust!
Lust: obsessive, unlawful, or unnatural sexual desire; need to be accepted or recognized by others
Gojyo closed the door behind him too hard, but whatever. Who cared? He dropped his coat in a pile next to it, leaned against the wall to kick off his shoes, and slunk to the table in the center of the room, spinning out a chair to fall into. Sanzo barely glanced over the top of his newspaper. "The fuck are you sulking about now?"
"Shut up. Fuck you." Gojyo needed a drink. The refrigerator with the beer was clear on the other side of the room; Sanzo had an open can sitting by his elbow. He wasn't wearing his robes, just the black shirt and gloves, and the alcohol made him look relaxed, like for once he might not hate everyone. "There's nothing in this town worth doing. And no one."
"Right." Sanzo turned a page. He had this way of not looking at you that let you know he was doing it on purpose; Gojyo hated it. He stole Sanzo's beer, but it was already empty and the fucking priest didn't even bother to smirk at him. "What, did someone comment on your hair?"
Gojyo crushed the can. "I said, shut up."
"Ch." Sanzo finally looked at him. His mouth twisted down; it probably still tasted like cheap beer. "Why don't you dye it if it bothers you so much? Change it or get over it; just stop fucking annoying me with your angst."
"It doesn't bother me." Gojyo stood up and draped himself over the back of Sanzo's chair, slouching so close he could feel his breath reflected off the skin of Sanzo's neck. Sanzo tilted his head, not pulling away but shifting enough that Gojyo could tell his attention wasn't on the newspaper. Gojyo twisted a lock of hair between two fingers and held it out. "It bother you, Sanzo-sama?"
"No. Your stupidity bothers me."
Gojyo laughed, low in his throat, and dropped the hair. He reached out and smashed the newspaper down to a crumpled mess in Sanzo's lap, leaning over his shoulder so their faces ended up cheek-to-cheek. "I still haven't gotten any tonight."
Sanzo crossed his arms over his chest, relaxing back into the chair with that perfect arrogant self-assurance he could manage even when he was pissed, or bleeding to death, or had a drunken half-breed practically falling into his lap. "You've got more problems than I thought if you expect me to do something about it."
Gojyo grinned to himself. He lifted his hand from the newspaper to press briefly against Sanzo's belly as he twisted his head and kissed him high on the cheekbone, short and chaste and friendly, then stood. Sanzo just grunted and waited a moment before trying to shake the paper back into some sort of readability.
Gojyo stretched, reaching far enough toward the ceiling to crack his back, wandering over to the identically disgusting beds. He claimed one, collapsing into it and hauling the sheets up to cover him. "Night."
"Shut up and go to sleep."