Chapter Text
Wukong reclines lazily onto the couch, shovelling peach chips into his mouth as he aimlessly watches whatever show he’d flicked onto his screen. He’s got a few monkeys decorating his stomach, curled up into a hefty mass of white furballs as they sleep the day away. If Wukong’s feeling particularly generous, he’ll hover a chip right in front of one of their little noses and watch as they happily snatch the chip from his fingers with an almost frightening amount of speed before scarfing it down. The youngest one nearly chews off his finger in their speed to snatch his snack.
“Jeez, alright! No one’s taking it from you, bud. It’s all yours,” Wukong laughs, surrendering the rest of the bag to the voracious little chimp, who takes it unhesitatingly. He’d normally be more upset with this tragic loss, but there were only crumbs and a handful of chips left, so it was hardly a major grievance on his part.
With a yawn, Wukong swings his leg over the side of the couch, staring blankly at the characters in battle on the screen. Their posture is all over the place and hardly an acceptable form in a real fight, but he tries to remind himself it’s purely fictional and perhaps he shouldn’t get so worked up over it. It proves to be easier said than done, and he switches the channel to anything else with a grumble after witnessing a particularly terrible punch from who he assumes is the main villain.
Wukong sighs, finding a bit of amusement in watching the monkeys on his chest rise and fall with the movements of his breathing. He runs his fingers through the fur of a smaller one as they eat, a wave of sleepiness washing over him and causing his eyes to droop shut. He hears the sound of a laugh track on the TV, and the monkey under his hand leans into his touch as he pets them.
Maybe it’s just the feeling of fur under his hand that spurs the lonely, pathetic thought, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he just can’t help but wonder what Macaque’s up to. Was he also enjoying a lazy day, perhaps? Relishing in the comfort of some warm blankets and hot noodles, perhaps? Wukong smiles to himself, vividly remembering the way he looked when he was huddled beneath his blankets, how his ears always poked out and flicked about like a rabbit’s ears in the grass, high and alert. What he wouldn’t give to have the flighty shadow cuddled against him as they drifted off to sleep together.
A white tail flicks over his face. Then it happens again, over his mouth this time, and Wukong spits at the feeling of fur on his lips.
“Hey— Alright, that’s enough of that,” he mutters, sitting up and watching the little ones slide off of his breastplate and onto his legs in a monkey landslide. After having their peace so rudely disturbed, they’re quick to scatter like mice. The littlest one hurriedly makes off with the bag of chips, and they’re followed out the window by the circus of equally hungry chimps.
Wukong stands up to stretch, his joints popping when he raises his arms over his head. He’d been laying around for quite a while, it would really be a good idea to do some sort of activity for his bones.
Not that he will, but it’s still a good idea.
Besides, he wasn’t really in the mood to do anything alone. It felt like the past few weeks he was spending more time than usual with his family on Flower Fruit Mountain, with a monkey latched onto his tail, or his head or shoulders at nearly every moment. Though, since the entire population of Flower Fruit Mountain seemed to be aware of his business with Macaque, Wukong’s certain the constant company was their way of trying to help him cope. Sweet as it was, it just couldn’t seem to help him take his mind off of things.
Even MK took notice and made a comment here and there over how the Monkey King looked lonely lately.
And as much as Wukong hates to admit to that sort of weakness, he knew MK was right. He was too accustomed to having Macaque around, lounging about like a sunbathing cat in his home that he’d completely forgotten what it felt like to be without him. If he’s not paying attention, Wukong finds himself looking around the corner to see if Macaque had magically popped up, or was sitting around in one of the shadows or something.
Wukong turns around to look down at the couch, sighing at the mess of crumbs he’d left behind in his wake. Unceremoniously, he begins the lazy process of sweeping the crumbs off of the cushion and onto the floorboard. If he remembers, he’ll spawn a clone and make them sweep it up later.
Macaque had been… friendlier towards him, at least. More amicable since their last talk. The banter came easier and easier, even if they still had a few bumps in the road on the way. Wukong never noticed how heavy the weight resting upon his shoulders was until things between them began to heal.
And it was a good thing.
It was a good thing, to have Macaque in his corner again after so long. To have his companionship and support again after feeling like it would forever remain out of Wukong’s reach. Wukong’s wanted it for so long that he didn’t know how to process no longer needing to hold onto that sort of yearning anymore, because it was finally in his hands.
And yet, here he was.
Still yearning. Pining uselessly for something he could never have.
Wukong drags his hands over his face, tired of running in the same circles, but he just can’t stop. He swears he’s worn an old path in the same sections of his mind from how frequently he seems to tread the same tracks. Now that he knew what life was like with Macaque’s presence, grew accustomed to having him around all the time, it was difficult to adjust to just how empty the shack felt when he wasn’t around. It wasn’t the same.
He misses seeing Macaque lazing about like he owned Wukong’s home, or napping in his bed. He misses hearing the sweep of his tail over the floorboards, even misses having his food stolen from his cupboards. And, if he’s not paying attention, Wukong will even find himself glancing around the corner, as if Macaque would sneak in like he used to, but he never showed up. He doesn’t know why he still gets his hopes up, but he does.
Wukong rubs his fingers in circles over his temples in an attempt to ease the headache beginning to pulsate right behind his eyes.
He was so tired of thinking about it. It happened a month ago, and there was no chance that anything more would happen between himself and Macaque, but that sickeningly bright, almost childlike hope was still as potent as it had been even before Macaque ended things.
It prevented Wukong from moving on. Some stupid, stupid part of him wanted to believe there was something more in Macaque’s words, in his looks or his actions, anything lingering in his eyes when he looked at Wukong from across the room. There had to be something. If he was hurting so badly, then he wouldn’t have indulged Wukong for as long as he did.
Right?
Sighing, the king decides that maybe a soak in the hot springs would do him some good. Maybe anything would be better than just moping around. The Monkey King did not mope. The springs would by no means wash away his worries, but they would at the very least make him forget about them for a little while, and he figures it’s better than nothing.
Snatching an old towel he deemed clean enough for usage from his bathroom, Wukong begins the trek to the hot springs, slinging the cloth over his shoulder. He doesn’t really care enough to bring any clothes to change into. He ‘s still a monkey demon, after all— clothes have never been of much importance to him in the past, at least not until he first came into contact with humans, anyway.
Sure, it would be faster if he took flight in the form of a bird or used his cloud, but Wukong found that lately he’s been taking the scenic route, so to speak. Stopping to smell the flowers and reconnecting with the old, worn paths of Flower Fruit Mountain that he rarely ever took, always preferring the faster, easier route of soaring through the wind to reach his destination.
It was easy to forget just how wonderfully pleasant his home was. Morning dewdrops glisten over blades of grass, and light trickles between each leaf in the trees above, dancing over the desire path worn into the core of his home. A humid breeze ruffles Wukong’s fur, and the air smells clean. Tropical, almost. His personal paradise.
Above him, the younger monkeys hop about from branch to branch, their lively chittering filling the summer air as they speak to themselves about their families and loved ones. Interestingly enough, they seemed to be heading down the same path as Wukong, down the slope that led to the small clearing that housed the hot springs.
Wukong nears the springs, his brows raising.
Macaque’s there.
That was already a surprise in and of itself, but what really left Wukong shocked was the fact that Bai and Susu sit right beside him. Bai combs through his dark hair, and Susu lazes about with a peach held between her little hands. They look to Wukong with deep amusement, like the cats who got the cream.
Bai gets this wolfish little sneer on her face as her fingers tenderly work through Macaque’s hair. Macaque, who seems perfectly content, with his bare chest rising and falling in a slow, tranquil rhythm. He looks as if he’s moments away from dozing off, content in Wukong’s spring as if he owned them himself.
“Hey, Sun,” Bai titters, “look who we found.”
Look, he does. Appallingly.
Macaque’s eyes open at her chittering, looking directly at Wukong.
“Hey.”
“Uh— hi. You’re in my hot spring,” he says perceptively, pointing a finger at the shadow lounging about.
“And?”
“With the little ones.”
The warrior hums, tipping his head back to look up at the sisters, who play innocent for the whole second his gaze is focused on them, then back to Wukong. He doesn’t know what has him more on edge, the fact that Macaque made his appearance unannounced, or the fact that Bai and Susu were with him.
“They invited themselves, more like. I was alone, then they started stealing my peaches,” he explains, nodding to the peach pits sitting near the rocks, courtesy of the sisters and their seemingly neverending appetite, “and then they started poking around me. They’re… not bad company, I guess.”
Wukong can’t help but lighten up at those words.
“Yeah?”
Macaque just gives a nonchalant shrug in response this time, but Wukong can see the way his face softens when Bai continues her grooming. It’s an endearing sight, seeing the three of them huddled together so closely. Contentedness wasn’t an expression he saw very often on Macaque, and it was always a treat to see for himself.
“Hey— that’s good! Maybe sometime you can meet the others, too?” Wukong offers, settling for amicable conversation.
Suddenly, Macaque seems a little shy. He’s quiet for a moment, directing his gaze anywhere else.
“Well, we’ll see. I know you said they were fine with me, buuut I’ll give it some more time,” says the warrior, bringing his hand up to scratch at his chin. His brow creases as he stares with contemplation at the bubbling waters before speaking. “Besides, I’d, uh… rather have you there with me. Whenever I decide to.”
Wukong’s breath hitches and his heartbeat picks up. There’s that warmth in his chest again, the one that feels like the first swath of sunlight on a new day. Macaque’s ear flicks, and Wukong knows he can hear the way his heart races for him. Blessedly— or rather, lamentably (he was torn between which suited him best)— Macaque chooses not to comment.
It felt as if every time Wukong managed to shove those feelings into the depths of his mind, Macaque says or does something that causes them to surge back up to the surface with a vengeance. Does he realize what spell those words cast on Wukong? Does he even care?
His chest aches when he thinks about it for too long, so he decides to put the focus back on Macaque. This wasn’t about him— they’d settled this months ago. It didn’t matter.
“’Course, bud. I’d love to,” he replies truthfully, a softness to his tone that he reserves for Macaque alone. “It’s your call,” Wukong continues, then begins to remove his clothing, starting with the laced back of his waistband. Macaque brings his hand up to shield his face as the sage makes quick work of the loops and shucks his clothes off, acting as if Wukong’s naked body wasn’t something he’d seen several times before. Though, Wukong supposes he didn’t have much reason to want to see his body for what it was anymore.
That unbearable ache in his chest intensifies, but dulls to nearly nothing once Wukong sinks into the bubbling waves of the hot spring. The steamy water relaxes his joints and slackens his muscles, hot over the king’s body in the most soothing way. Wukong rests his arms over the rock-lined rim, amused that Macaque was still hiding behind his hand. Feeling perhaps just a touch mischievous, Wukong kicks water at him with his foot, smiling to himself all the while.
Macaque shakes the water off of his hand, retaliating by using his own foot to splash a bigger wave at Wukong. The king laughs, using his arms to shield himself from the aquatic assault.
“You’re so annoying,” Macaque grumbles, but Wukong can see the smile on his face.
“So? How long’ve they been sticking to you? You know you kinda always were a monkey magnet.”
The girls titter amongst themselves.
“I guess we’re not the only monkeys his magnetism works on,” Bai giggles, followed by a light smack on her shoulder from Susu. Wukong very decisively keeps his gaze focused on Macaque, acting as if she hadn’t spoken at all. He can’t fathom how having three of the most mischievious people he knew all in the same area could possibly lead to any sort of benevolent outcome. The language barrier was his practically his crutch as it were; he just wouldn’t be able to survive the onslaught of teasing otherwise. They three of them simply had way too much dirt on his name.
“No kidding. It’s everywhere I go with this place,” Macaque smirks to himself, snickering at his own remark. He props his head up with a hand, eyebrow twitching when one of the girls curiously tugs at one of his glamored ears. Despite his visible displeasure, the warrior makes no move to stop their poking and prodding. The sisters murmur to eachother about the lack of six ears, but Wukong ignores them. As best as he can, anyway.
He shifts, settling comfortably against the rocks. A silence falls over them, but he’s not sure if it’s a good silence, or an awkward one. After she finishes poking around for another set of ears that weren’t there, Bai opts to instead groom Macaque gently— not in her usual, chaotic manner of tearing tangled balls of fur out, but whatever.
Wukong makes a face at nothing, the prolonged silence making him antsy. There was no reason to be— everything had been sorted out. This should be the easy part. He taps his finger anxiously against the damp rocks.
“Pffft, no wonder the two of you get along so well,” Bai snickers from behind Macaque, raising a brow suggestively and causing Wukong’s face to heat up, “You’re both terrible at communicating.”
He expects Susu to say something in his defense, or maybe even chide Bai for speaking out of turn, but she just covers her mouth in an attempt to hide her little grin. Traitors, the both of them.
“You two aren’t funny,” he glowers, but it holds no bite. It only serves to make them giggle even harder to themselves like little schoolgirls. Macaque glances over his shoulder at the sisters, but their giggling ceases immediately, acting as if they’d sprouted wings and halos on the spot. Wukong’s eye twitches at the sight.
Finding apparently nothing, Macaque turns back around to face him.
“Uh… what’d they say?
“Ah— nothing.”
“Your face is all red,” Macaque notes, amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“They’re just being really embarrassing right now.”
Wukong realizes much too late just how stupid it was of him to say that. Macaque’s face practically lights up with some devious energy, and he glances to the sisters once more before looking back to the king.
“Awww, man. I’m missing out on all the fun.”
That gets another little snicker out of the girls. The king’s face has never been redder, and he’s certain the celestial marking on his face was red enough to rival Macaque’s at this point.
“And he likes teasing you, too? This guy is perfect!” Bai laughs.
“Guess I can see why Sun likes him so much,” Susu giggles, sitting beside her sister to also brush through Macaque’s mane. The shadow basks in their care, and Wukong can practically see the tense muscles unwinding when he relaxes. It warms his heart to see him bonding with his family, but less so when he has to pay the price of being the butt of the joke.
“Alright,” Wukong huffs irritably, crossing his arms.
Macaque laughs, a wonderful sound cutting through the teasing chittering of the sisters. Nearly makes all the teasing worth it, Wukong supposes.
“They really get under your skin, huh?” giggles the shadow, his smile reaching his eyes.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Bai hums as she removes a knot from his fur, looking far too smug for her own good, “You have no idea.”
Macaque takes another bite of his peach, the juice staining the corner of his lips. He tosses the pit somewhere behind him before he smirks.
“I like ‘em already. When’re you gonna teach me the language again so I won’t miss out next time?”
Susu looks to Wukong, incredulous.
“Sun! I was under the assumption he could at least somewhat understand us,” She then looks to Bai, who mirrors her confused expression, “This whole time I just thought he wasn’t the talkative type.”
Wukong responds with a sheepish grin and a meager half-shrug before directing his attention back to Macaque.
“I… Well, it’s not like you’re around often enough for me to get the chance,” Wukong mutters, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head. Macaque’s gaze drops to the bubbling water, brows furrowed with pensiveness. The quiet, bubbling waves suddenly sound far too loud for Wukong’s liking.
After a moment of wretched silence, Susu speaks.
“Uh… c’mon, Bai. I think they need some privacy.”
They’re fast to scurry off into the brush, but not without stealing a peach or two from Macaque’s little collection, the furry thieves.
An odd silence falls between them, filled only by the quiet sounds of frothy bubbles broiling atop the healing waters of the hot spring. Wukong catches a flash of white in the treetops, the swish of little white tails and curious eyes peering down at the two of them like the inquisitive eyes of an owl.
“Looks like you have a bit of an audience, huh?”
Macaque laughs breathily, lips upturned in a small, but sincere smile.
“Tell me about it. I’ve had a few follow me wherever I go. Those two especially,” he nods in the direction that Bai and Susu ran off, and Wukong feels his tail flick under the surface. He doesn’t even want to know what those two were gossiping about between themselves, or even to Macaque, since they assumed he was just being taciturn.
Wukong nearly grimaces. The idea of them spilling his business to Macaque was an unpleasant thought. For once, he finds himself grateful for the language barrier.
“Yeah, those two have been pretty, uh… interested in you,” he confesses, scratching at his neck awkwardly. “Interested” was an understatement, the sisters loved to shove their infuriatingly adorable little noses in Wukong’s love life any chance they could get.
“Yeah? Interested, how?” Macaque prompts, and Wukong immediately regrets saying anything.
He turns away, pressing the palm of his hand flat against his throat to ease the nerves bubbling at the back of his throat.
“Uh… Well, they would kinda… stick their noses in my business, I guess? When we were, uh…” he trails off, giving a vague wave of his hand as if the action would spell out the rest of his sentence. On the confusing grounds they trekked, Wukong wasn’t sure if outright saying, ‘They asked way too many personal questions about you and also said that you’re loud,’ was necessarily appropriate.
“Y’know.”
Macaque just blinks. Aside from the slight red dusting across his cheekbones that could easily be attributed to the hot, rising steam of the water, he gives no indication that this information affects him.
“Did they? Interesting,” he hums. Then, he smirks, his teeth flashing. “I can only imagine how embarrassing that must’ve been for you.”
“Ha, you have no idea.”
The trees rustle above them, and when Wukong looks up, he finds that their audience seems to have vanished. He spots Bai and Susu leading them away, and he can’t help but snort at the sight. He doesn’t give them enough credit— they knew how he was with an audience and they were going out of their way to try to make things easier for him. He’ll have to pay them back another time, if he remembers.
Silence falls between them once more, and the air between them feels charged with less tension, at least for Wukong. When he dares a glance at Macaque, though, he sees the strange pensiveness on his face, the odd wobble of his lips and the tensing of his jaw as he stares at the surface of the water. Wukong looks away, waiting patiently for the other to carefully craft the words he wants to say.
“I think… maybe we should talk,” Macaque mumbles after a moment, brows furrowing with seriousness.
Wukong’s stiff in an instant, his throat tightening with anxiety as he immediately assumes the worst.
“Um, ‘course, bud. What’s up?”
Macaque opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then pulls his lips taut. He shakes his head before turning away.
“Nevermind.”
“What? Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, now I wanna know.”
“I dunno if I should.”
Wukong just laughs, incredulous.
“Aw, c’mon, don’t back out now,” then, he softens his voice, “I’m not in any place to judge, promise.”
Macaque’s quiet for a moment, avoiding Wukong’s gaze. His brows furrow with a complicated emotion, a confused anger that seemed to be directed more towards himself, if anything. Wukong knows that feeling too well. His fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, to run a thumb over Macaque’s cheek and smoothen the worried creases of his brows until his woes melted into nothing. He just hates to see that expression on him.
“Just gimme a minute,” the shadow mumbles, barely audible.
Wukong just nods robotically, dread seeping into his bones. If it was difficult for loud, opinionated Macaque to say, then Wukong fears it’ll be even worse for him to hear. His leg bounces underneath the water, and he finds himself grateful for the surface obscuring his visible anxiety.
The wait is longer than just a minute, or even a few. Wukong tries to relax, but it feels as if the rising steam was beginning to suffocate him more than soothe him. He wants to know so badly what it is Macaque wants to say, but above all, he wants to give him the space to work up the nerve in the first place. His comfort was more important.
Just as Wukong begins to accept that silence would be answer, Macaque gives him a real one.
“Uh…” Macaque quietly begins, “Do you remember when I ended our agreement? Not too long ago.”
Wukong almost scoffs. How could he forget? He still never got a proper answer as to why Macaque even decided to so abruptly end it altogether in the first place. He would respect the shadow’s boundaries— of course he would— but that didn’t mean Wukong wasn’t allowed to be upset. They’d been having sex for months only for him to get thrust into the friendzone so hard that it may as well have given him a concussion. None of it made any sense, and even now it still didn’t.
He takes a deep breath to cool off, though some of that underlying bitterness still comes to surface.
“…I mean, you made it kinda hard to forget, bud.”
Macaque scratches at the back of his neck, averting his gaze. He at least has the decency to look like he feels bad.
“I know. That, uh… wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.”
He mutters it so quietly that Wukong barely even registers that he’d said anything at all. The shadow’s quiet for another minute, and it feels like it’s much longer than just sixty seconds. Wukong hadn’t once anticipated ever hearing a peep out of Macaque at all once he’d ended things, much less an apology. He watches him expectantly, awaiting an explanation.
“I didn’t… um, I didn’t want to end things. We started to get closer, and it… it scared me, I guess.”
Wukong gapes at him, feeling as if is stone heart had been ripped straight from his body. Before he can sloppily string something together in reply, Macaque beats him to it, as if realizing what he’d said.
“No, n-not because of you, I mean. I was scared because I kind of…” he trails off, the words escaping him. Macaque purses his lips together, that look of frustration flashing across his eyes once more. “I kind of… started to want more. That agreement— it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be around you all the time, even when we weren’t having sex. All I could think about was just… being with you.”
The king just stares, not even sure of what to say or feel. So it wasn’t just him— Macaque had been feeling the exact same way. He feels as if the warrior were speaking to his very soul at that moment, like all of Macaque’s behavior was starting to make sense right then and there.
“Mac…” he trails off, not even knowing where to start. He doesn’t have to.
The shadow brings his hands to his chest, running fingers over fingers and over his palms and wrists. Wukong vividly remembers, centuries ago, when Macaque would do similar whenever his nerves began to get the best of him.
“…And I could see it on your face. That there was something there. It wasn’t just about having sex for you, was it?”
Even with the heat of the hot spring engulfing him, Wukong suddenly feels cold. There was something so bizarrely human and terrifying about having his feelings spoken into existence. All of his vulnerabilities laid out like a deck of cards. He takes a deep breath before speaking.
“I…” he stalls, hesitating before he musters enough strength to give a simple, yet weak, “N-No. It wasn’t.”
“I didn’t think so. That’s… I just didn’t know how to handle it. It was too much for me.”
Another moment of silence passes.
“That why you were kinda… avoiding me? Right after we cut things off?”
“Yeah…”
“Bud—”
“I’m not finished.”
Macaque’s fingers quake, and it takes everything in Wukong’s system to keep himself from reaching out to quell his visible anxiety by taking his hands in his own. He wants more than anything to help however he can, but he knows it’s just not his place. His chest aches horribly.
“I, uh… met someone.”
Wukong’s gaze snaps to Macaque’s in an instant, the sting of betrayal burns like the venom of a ravenous snake bite, swiftly followed by white-hot, bone-deep rage. Just as he opens his mouth to say something he’d most definitely regret, Macaque cuts him off, albeit in a wildly unamused manner.
“Relax, Wukong. Lemme finish before steam starts comin’ outta your ears.”
“I only got with him because I just… wanted a distraction. Every time he kissed or touched me, I just kept thinking about you. It was driving me crazy,” he sighs, reclining back against the rocks and using a hand to prop the side of his head up, “We didn’t end up doing anything. I left the poor guy ‘cause I felt guilty. Like I was cheating on you, or something. Even though we were never together, obviously.”
The king stares at him, at a complete loss. Part of him wanted to bask in the glory of knowing that, even when he was with another guy, Macaque was firmly stuck on him. His anger dissipates as quickly as a it had arisen, and Wukong can’t help but preen a bit, knowing he’d been firmly stuck in Macaque’s head just as much as he had been in his own. It was… comforting, in a bizarre sort of way, to know he wasn’t the only one sorting through his own emotional distress regarding the other.
Macaque clears his throat, apprehensively bringing his gaze to meet Wukong’s own after avoiding him nearly the entire time, as if bracing himself for what he’d say next.
“I, uh… I love you, Wukong.”
The words echo inside of the king’s ears, over and over and over again. He wonders for a moment If he’s dreaming, wonders if his ears had deceived him. A whirlwind of emotions surges through him, his head entirely overloaded with a cacophony of thoughts in an instant.
The sound of a somber, humorless laugh barely registers in Wukong’s ears, and he forces himself to focus once more.
“…Took me long enough to finally admit it, huh?”
He’s quiet for a brief moment before speaking again.
“Well? Don’t just stare at me. Gimme something to work with, here.”
His words are harsh, but wobbly. He scratches anxiously at his palms, and looks as if he were ready to slip into a shadow portal at any given moment.
“I, uh…” Wukong trails off. He doesn’t know how to properly verbalize his emotions, how to tell Macaque that he was utterly elated to know he felt the same in a way that could possibly make any sort of sense. On the darkest, loneliest nights, he’d quietly fantasize about having Macaque there, laying beside him, murmuring sweet nothings and, “I love you”s as Wukong cuddled him.
“I mean, uh. I-I never tried to hide it from you. I love you, too.”
Macaque just gives a quiet nod of acknowledgement, a faint redness dusting his cheeks.
“It was… hard for me to come to terms with. Especially with, y’know, everything that’s happened between us. I guess I really just needed closure more than I thought I would.”
“I’m ready now, though. I wanna make this work with you.”
“So do I.”
“So…” Wukong trails off, skimming his fingers across the surface of the bubbling water. A nervous excitement flutters throughout his chest and into his very bones, one that simply can’t be paralleled. He can’t describe it, can’t even begin to put a name to it, but he can feel it, and gods he wanted nothing more than to share it with Macaque.
“What… uh, what should we do now?” he inelegantly stutters. Wukong looks somewhere past Macaque, his cheeks burning with nervousness and excitement.
“Well… I mean, I’d like to, uh… kiss you, for starters.”
He feels his cheeks burn hotter, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. This was ridiculous. There was nothing for him to be nervous about— he’s kissed Macaque a hundred times by now. Not to mention, they’ve gone much further than just kissing, so what was there to be so nervous about? He knows the steps and sounds of this dance better than anyone; there was no room for error.
At least, there shouldn’t be.
He swallows thickly before answering, shoving the thought aside before it can fester.
“I… Y-Yeah. That’s a good place to start, I think.”
He sees it, the smallest twinkle of amusement in Macaque’s eyes. The corner of his lip twitches like he wants to smile, but he fights off the urge. Before Wukong can decipher the inner machinations of his warrior’s mind, Macaque’s already approaching him, glimmering water rippling around his hips.
The king stiffens once he’s in closer proximity, immediately dropping his arms from the back of the hot spring to ready himself for his partner. He can feel the warmth of Macaque’s body heat surrounding him like an extra layer of fur, the copper of his eyes locking Wukong in place. There’s nothing inherently sexual about this— it was just supposed to be a kiss, a vow of loyalty and companionship— but still the king feels his heart racing with anticipation. The all-consuming desire to please and impress, to not make a complete fool of himself.
“Wukong,” Macaque murmurs, slowly bringing his hands to rest of the soft hills of the king’s hips. Wukong’s thought process is reduced to nothing in an instant, too focused on the sensation of those burning hot hands on his bare skin.
That sparkle of amusement flashes in Macaque’s eyes again like stars in the night sky. His teeth flash when he smiles.
“Are you nervous right now?”
He feels his blush creep over his ears. As much as Wukong would love to deny it and preserve his dignity, his words die on his tongue, hypnotized by the sight of Macaque before him, his touch, his voice. It calls to him like the mellifluous melody of a siren at sea. The hands on Wukong’s hips splay out over his hipbones, fingers just barely dipping into the steaming water as Macaque crowds his space. Wukong’s fingers twitch, itching to feel dark fur between the digits. He raises them to rest atop Macaque’s shoulders, almost losing himself in his gaze before realizing he hadn’t yet responded to him.
“I— I, uh…” comes yet another well thought-out reply.
“You’re cute. Know that?”
Wukong opens his mouth to protest against such a ridiculous statement, but isn’t able to get so much as a noise out before Macaque’s already kissing him.
It’s chaste and even a little awkward, but he couldn’t ask for more. There’s so much Wukong can’t say aloud that this simple kiss could, an unspoken promise to his lover through this one action alone. He’d be there for him no matter what, and that he trusts Macaque to do the same for him. He knows he will. There’s no other he’d make this promise to.
His fingers trail through the dark fur of the shadow’s shoulders before he pulls away, resting his palm over his cheek. Wukong makes no attempt to hide the adoration he proudly wears on his face for his warrior, smiling when Macaque leans into his hold and rests his own hand over Wukong’s. Scarlet dusts his cheekbones, and his confident facade falls apart as he looks away, marvelously bashful.
“Don’t look at me like that, you big sap.”
“You love it.”
“I dunno who told you that,” Macaque lightheartedly denies, a smile finding his lips. Wukong thinks it’s the prettiest smile he’s seen yet on Macaque.
“Awww c’mon, you looove it.”
“You’re gross.”
The king only replies by placing a quick kiss on the shadow’s forehead, smiling to himself over the way the red on his face slowly consumes his celestial marking, all the way up to his ears. His lips part into a little ‘o’ of surprise, the sound of a low purr making its way into Wukong’s ears. Macaque makes a face as if remembering himself, but it was far too late. The king smirks.
“You’re calling me gross?”
He laughs, yanking Wukong closer by his hips.
“Do you ever stop talking?”
Before Wukong can squeeze in a cheeky remark, Macaque surges forward and kisses him, and Wukong swiftly finds that not talking was a wonderful idea, actually. He doesn’t try to hide the smile that pulls at the corners of his lips this time, not when he’s finally got everything he’s ever wanted right in his arms. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, moving his lips slowly against Macaque’s so he can really savor the taste of him, how his jittery fingers betray his apprehensiveness.
There’s no dictionary expansive enough in this realm or any other that can truly encapsulate the magnitude of Wukong’s affections towards Macaque, and he can only hope that he can show him just how much he means to him with this one kiss.
The warrior pulls away rather suddenly, his grip tightening around Wukong’s waist.
“Wukong…” he breathes out, scarlet burning down his neck and creeping towards the edges of his ears. They twitch and flutter cutely, as if they were honing in on the soft murmurs of adoration from Wukong’s heart.
“Yeah?” he prompts, equally as breathless from just a single kiss.
“I…” Macaque starts, before he dodges Wukong’s gaze, lips wobbling with nerves, “Uh, nevermind. I’ll… tell you in a sec.”
“Why can’t you tell me now— Mmph!”
Macaque cuts him off with another kiss, his hands reaching up to cup the sides of Wukong’s face with such care that he’d think himself a sacred treasure. Crimson burns over Wukong’s cheeks as he presses harder against him, his fingers twitchy as the tips just barely graze Macaque’s hips, not daring to go further. Though the weeks apart from Macaque passed quickly, it suddenly began to feel as if it had been a millennia since Wukong got to feel him this close, and he’s certain it shows in his rather meek approach. He doesn’t want to mess this up, not when it really counts.
He pulls away when Macaque lays a palm flat against his pec, the contact nearly making him jump. Just his touch makes him want to melt right out of his fur, and he’s afraid this won’t last nearly as long as he’d like if he gets too much of it.
Macaque looks at him in questioning, concern deep in his gaze.
“Uh… Too fast?”
“No! No, no, not at all!” Wukong answers probably far too quickly, removing his hands from Macaque to raise his palms in response. He hopes he doesn’t notice the way his fingers quiver. “Um, I just, uh…”
He doesn’t want to say it out aloud. Wukong wouldn’t give Macaque the satisfaction of knowing he had hit the nail on the head. Besides, he’s a god, for crying out loud. Sun Wukong shouldn’t be so tense over something like this, they’ve done this plenty of times before and it shouldn’t be any different now.
But it was, and he’s afraid he’ll get too wrapped up in his own head fretting over what he needs to do right.
“Nervous?” Macaque finishes, amusement twinkling in his pretty eyes. Wukong snorts, furrowing his brows irritably as he averts his gaze. Then, Macaque laughs lightly to himself. Just as the king opens his mouth to gripe about his warped sense of humor, the shadow starts speaking again.
“So am I. You know I can’t let you hog all the glory.”
Wukong blinks, taking a moment to process his words. Then, he can’t help but laugh too, warmth bursting in his heart of stone. There was something sweet about Macaque being just as nervous, as if there was anything he could do in this moment that Wukong would deem remotely untoward. And, just to be sure he knows that, the king gives him a quick kiss over the corner of his mouth in a gesture of wordless reassurance.
Macaque brings his hands to Wukong’s chest once more, and the king welcomes the touch this time with a little more ease, comforted by the fact that they were both nervous about this. He leans in, pressing more butterfly kisses over his warrior’s face. His lips brush over the edges of his celestial marking, where his skin turns from tan to scarlet. The urge to do so had been near unbearable for what felt like ages at this point, and Wukong wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by. His shadow giggles, bringing one of his damp hands up to Wukong’s cheek and guiding him into another kiss.
He tastes as heavenly as ever, and Wukong never realized just how much he missed the taste of him until he had him on his lips again. The shadow’s fingers caress the sides of Wukong’s face, his thumbs rubbing gently over skin, and it all but makes Wukong melt like a lit candle under his touch. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss as Macaque cards his fingers through his soaked mane. The heady scent of frankincense and something vaguely masculine combined with the all-consuming heat surrounding Wukong makes him moan against his lover’s lips.
Macaque gasps, pulling away immediately. Scarlet consumes every inch of his face, and his lips part in surprise. A carnal ache flares to life somewhere deep in Wukong’s gut at the sight.
“Ah— sorry,” he apologizes, his voice breathy, inwardly scolding himself for allowing himself to get carried away. He wasn’t sure where the line was drawn for Macaque, but the last thing he wanted to do was overstep his boundaries.
“It’s fine,” Macaque replies. His ears twitch, the way they always did when Wukong made a sound he particularly liked. “Just— surprised me, was all.”
Wukong swallows, his mouth feeling entirely too dry. Before he can get too swept up in him, he distantly remembers that the shadow wanted to ask him something.
“What— uh, what did you wanna ask me?” he inelegantly blurts.
“Well… I wanna know how far you wanna take this.”
The heat that pulses through Wukong’s veins at the mere implications of Macaque’s words suddenly makes his knees feel weak. Wasn’t it too soon for them to jump straight into this once more? And so soon after they’ve bared their purest feelings to one another?
And yet, on the other side of the battlefield, Wukong can’t help but preen at the opportunity to prove himself to his newfound mate. It was nothing they haven’t seen before— what harm would be done if they both wanted it? He feels his dick twitch with excitement under the waves. Two against one, it would seem.
“I…” he trails off, at war with himself.
“We don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” Macaque clarifies.
“I know,” Wukong murmurs, reaching between the two of them to hold Macaque’s hands in his own. He runs his thumbs over the knuckles, taking a moment to appreciate the feeling of the shadow’s hands in his. Part of him was afraid he’d never get to feel his rough, calloused palms over his own again. He never could seem to get enough of the simple gesture.
“How about…” he begins. Then, with a little more confidence, “How about we figure it out as we go, yeah? Whatever happens, happens.” Macaque raises an eyebrow in response.
Wukong feels Macaque’s fingers quiver over his own, and he runs his thumbs over his knuckles in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. He’s torn between wanting to hold Macaque closer or push him away, his mind at war with itself as a result of his own timorousness. His tail twitches at the floor of the spring. Wukong hardly remembers this being so… nerve-wracking.
“That sounds like a good idea,” agrees Macaque with a nod of his head. Wukong’s throat feels dry, and he’s grateful for the steam of the hot spring causing him to sweat, otherwise Macaque would notice that he’d been sweating for an entirely different reason. This was all happening so fast; he’d always imagined himself to be far more suave than this when he allowed himself to indulge in his fantasies.
Macaque’s hands begin to wander, slowly adventuring up Wukong’s palms, his wrists, his forearms, travelling with leisure as he inches just a little closer into his space. His touch burns every inch of Wukong’s arms, and he fights a shiver when Macaque’s skin meets his own once his palms make contact with his chest once more. Can he feel how Wukong’s heart races for him? He’s so close now, and Wukong swears the heat of his body trumps the heat of the hot spring. His crimson eyes flick between Macaque’s lips and his eyes.
“Uh— Can I kiss you again, Mac?”
Macaque laughs. His smile reaches his eyes, and it’s the most beautiful thing Wukong has ever had the honor of laying his eyes on.
“You don’t have to ask, Wukong. Of course you can.”
Wukong mirrors his smile and presses their foreheads together.
“I like knowing that you want it, too.”
He gets only the briefest look of a wonderfully flustered face from the warrior before he leans in for another kiss, his appetite for Macaque utterly insatiable. Macaque is fast to pick up from where they left off, pressing hard against Wukong’s lips and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He sighs against the king, timidly swiping his tongue in request for access.
Something shifts in the atmosphere once Wukong gets Macaque’s tongue on his own. He feels that familiar, unfettered hunger churning in his stomach, a hunger that nearly makes him sink his nails into the warrior’s flesh. The king feared that he’d forget the art of pleasing Macaque in the time they’d spent apart, but once he gets a proper taste of him on his tongue, he realizes he hadn’t forgotten anything.
Macaque moans, low and quiet, but the sound alone is enough to make Wukong harden. He’d fantasized about that sinful little sound for far too long— hearing it in person would always outclass any sort of depraved fantasy he could conjure up. The shadow presses closer, and Wukong groans when their chests touch, hardening further when he can feel the heat of Macaque’s crotch nearing dangerously close to his own. He can feel his inhibitions melting away; if Macaque wanted it, then Wukong would oblige. He’d give him anything within his power if he asked.
Wukong sighs into the kiss, gasping when Macaque’s adventurous fingers reach the very edge of his happy trail. It felt too fast, but not fast enough. Part of him wants to relish every second of this, the slow buildup and foreplay as he gingerly dismantles his lover. But the other part of him wants to get things moving, wants to show his warrior what he was capable of and just how well he can please him.
Macaque breaks away, his lips brushing against Wukong’s when he speaks.
“Can I?”
Wukong swallows thickly, needing a moment to navigate through the haze in order to process what Macaque had just asked.
“Y-Yeah. Go ahead.”
The warrior’s hand fully submerges, and Wukong nearly jumps when his fingers brush the base of his dick. Slowly, Macaque wraps his hand around Wukong’s length, starting a slow, almost meager pace. It’s hardly meager to Wukong though; just the contact alone is enough to make his fur stand on end, as if electrified with excitement.
Wukong swallows thickly, hypnotized by the lewd movements of Macaque’s wrist, the way his forearm flexes with every sinful pump of his hand. There was something enthralling about not being able to see what Macaque was doing to him, left to only feel him as his mind fills in the gaps. He whines when the warrior sucks tightly at his neck, running his tongue over sizzling skin as if he intended to flay him alive.
“M-Mac, I…” he inhales sharply at the way Macaque’s wrist turns as it reaches the head. He still remembers how Wukong likes it, his copper eyes watching his every reaction with great interest as his deft hands masterfully stroke him. His ears flick, catching on to every sigh it draws from Wukong and sipping it down like fine wine.
The intensity of his gaze, the hand wrapped around his dick, the spotlight being turned on him suddenly makes Wukong feel shy. He stifles another moan behind one of his own hands, his eyes pinched shut as he involuntarily rocks into Macaque’s hand and grips the dark fur of his shoulder. His hands run hotter than the water they sit in, and Wukong knows he will more than likely not last very long in these conditions.
Macaque reaches up, gripping the hand clasped over his mouth and gingerly removing it, hastily replacing it with his own greedy lips. He’s quick to consume everything Wukong has to give him, swallowing down the obscene moans he gets out of him when his pace picks up, confidence growing with each stroke. He’d eat Wukong alive if given the chance, and Wukong would make a feast of himself.
“Wukong,” he sighs, going back for more before pulling away with a rough nip at his bottom lip, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re the only one I want, know that?”
Wukong moans, pinching his eyes shut as he feels that hot, addicting rush of euphoria burst through his veins. His hand shoots out, gripping tightly at Macaque’s wrist and forcing him to stop. With a hiss, Wukong drops his forehead onto the warrior’s shoulder, his breathing ragged as he forces himself to calm down before he blows his load too soon and humiliates himself.
He hears Macaque laugh lightly somewhere above him.
“Run outta gas, Wukong?”
“H-Hardly,” he retaliates, but it doesn’t come out nearly as threatening as he’d like, “I’m just getting started.”
“I bet you are,” Macaque purrs, sounding much too delighted with himself. Wukong gasps when his fingers run over the head of his dick, his hips jerking involuntarily. Macaque nuzzles into his hair as his other hand rubs circles into Wukong’s hip.
“Do you… want me to finish you off?”
“I…” Wukong trails off, his head still spinning from Macaque’s tenderness, a sight for his eyes only. He breathes in his scent, then raises his head from his shoulder to look at him. Wukong releases Macaque’s hand from his bruising grip, but still keeps his fingers loosely wrapped around his wrist in warning, a warning Macaque ignores almost immediately when he resumes stroking Wukong, though far more slowly this time.
The shadow kisses the corner of his lip, dragging his hand up the king’s body to grip at his hair, guiding him into tipping his head back.
“Lemme make you feel good, Wukong,” he murmurs, kissing at his exposed throat. Wukong sighs, moving his hands to rest at Macaque’s waist as he loses himself in his divine attention.
“Why don’t you… sit up on the rocks and I’ll use my mouth instead?”
Wukong’s hand nearly crushes Macaque’s wrist this time, and he rips him off of his dick. He nearly chokes on a gasp, his cock pulsing at the mere suggestion. He’s certain even the weakest graze of Macaque’s fingers would make him cum all over himself.
Wukong pants hard, his body tense as the overwhelming heat of an orgasm threatens to overtake his body. He pinches his eyes shut, willing it away as best as he can, until the blood rushing through his ears settles and he can hear the sound of the water gently bubbling.
“S-Sorry…” Macaque mumbles, and Wukong promptly releases his hand. The shadow’s pupils consume the edges of his irises, and his breathing is fast and uneven. “I, uh… got carried away.”
“No, it’s okay,” Wukong coos breathlessly. Then, he drops his voice with a purr, “I’m flattered that you still remember how I like it.”
Macaque smirks, face reddening. “You idiot. Why would I forget?”
Why wouldn’t he, was the better question, though not one Wukong would bother wasting their time asking. Instead, Wukong licks his lips, his teeth aching for the feeling of Macaque’s skin between them, eager to carve his name in his skin with his fangs.
“C’mere. I’m not done with you.”
Macaque scoffs, hovering his lips just inches away from Wukong’s own. He wants nothing more than to taste his smirk once again, to kiss him until those lips part around a moan and leave him sobbing for more.
“Feels like you never are.”
It’s entirely true, and Wukong only confirms his suspicions when he leans in, keen on leaving his mark in the warrior’s throat. His tan flesh has been sitting woefully unmarked for far too long.
Macaque tips his head back, submissively presenting his neck to his king, eager for him to leave mark after mark in his skin. Wukong sighs once he gets a taste of him again, brows knitting as he relishes the scrape of his teeth over his throat. It gets a delicious little shiver out of the warrior, and Wukong chuckles lowly. He sinks his teeth into his neck, groaning at the taste of his shadow’s sweat, the heady scent of him. It was maddening.
Unable to keep his hands to himself, Wukong drags his palms travel lower, lower to Macaque’s hips. Somehow, through the thick haze clouding the last of his rationale, Wukong’s able to make out the lack of clothing on the shadow’s waist. He pulls away from him to meet his gaze.
“Mac, are you… wearing anything?”
“Mm… dunno. Am I?”
Before the king can even begin to process his answer, Macaque’s hands come up to Wukong’s shoulders, pushing down, down until Wukong sits on the bench underneath the water. Wukong only gazes up at him, heat igniting in his blood when Macaque makes himself comfortable in his lap, and he gets his answer right then and there.
“Fuck,” he moans, bringing a hand up to clasp over his mouth at the feeling of Macaque’s hardness pressed against his stomach, entirely free from the confines of clothing.
“You alright with this, Wukong?” he asks, his voice low and rich like smooth honey.
“M-More than,” he stutters inelegantly, his mind lagging and unfocused on unnecessary things like his words making sense when he had a very naked Macaque sitting pretty in his lap. His ass presses hard against his throbbing dick, and it’s enough to make Wukong’s hands shoot out to grasp at his waist, his nails sinking into the thick, soaked fur. Heat pools fast between the king’s legs, the familiar weight of Macaque sat atop him nearly making him short circuit.
“Gods…” he trails off, swallowing thickly as he wills away the early orgasm once more. The warrior nudges almost timidly against his length, and it fogs Wukong’s mind even further. “D-Did you… know this was gonna happen?”
Macaque shakes his head, and his voice trembles with excitement when he speaks.
“Nope. But it might’ve crossed my mind.”
“Y-Yeah?” Wukong stutters, his fingers trembling.
“Yeah. I wanna…”
He runs his palm over Wukong’s chest again, and Wukong gazes up at him earnestly. He hopes Macaque can feel the way his heart of stone beats for him, the way he holds his breath in anticipation.
“I wanna show you what you mean to me.”
Macaque shifts so he can sit more comfortably, wrapping his arms around the king’s shoulders. Passion and mirth sit heavy in the swirling copper of his eyes, and Wukong can’t help but silently thank the fact that he was already sitting down, because the look alone would’ve made him fall to his knees were he standing.
“By all means,” he lamely murmurs, moving one of his hands down to caress Macaque’s thigh. Wukong glances down at his hand placement, momentarily forgetting the fact that he couldn’t see much of anything past the rolling waves of the hot spring.
The warrior’s hand drops between their bodies, and the resulting splash of his hand sounds much louder to Wukong than it really was.
“You’re so nervous, Wukong,” Macaque hums over a light giggle, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
A harsh gasp tears at Wukong’s throat when Macaque shifts closer, so close that their cocks press together. The shadow’s hand takes them both in his hold, starting a slow, almost meager pace. Wukong swallows thickly, his breath shaky at the feeling of Macaque’s hardness pressed against him, using him as a means of finding pleasure.
“I-I just want this to be good for you…”
“Ha… So do I. Uh… do you still like it like this?” Macaque asks, his voice barely audible.
As if he even needed to ask. Wukong hisses through his teeth, hips bucking when Macaque’s hands descends down their lengths, his grip tightening as he reaches the base. He twists his wrist near the head, carefully thumbing the tip, and the king nearly sees stars. He responds by surging forward and claiming those lips once more, moaning against his when it jostles their dicks in his hand.
The closed distance gives Macaque significantly less space to work with, but Wukong doesn’t care, instead removing his hand with his own so he can grind against his warrior as he pleases. Macaque swipes his tongue against his, sighing into Wukong’s mouth as he cants against him and rakes his nails over his shoulders and in his hair.
He whimpers, letting his forehead drop onto Macaque’s damp shoulder as he exhales shakily. The warrior grinds against him slowly, his rhythm unhurried. Wukong groans, curling his arms up his back and feeling the muscles shift as he rolls against him, taking in his heady scent. His cock brushes against his teasingly, but it’s too slow for Wukong to get much of anything out of it. It’s tortuous in all the right ways.
Wukong falls into the movements seamlessly, growing more confident with each moan and sigh he gets out of the warrior. The lingering worry of forgetting how to please Macaque dissipates swiftly as the motions become familiar. Macaque was a starmap, and Wukong an observer, left to marvel at the constellations stitched into his midnight hair and the brilliant stars in his eyes shining ever brighter when he looked his way. To be loved by him was an honor.
Macaque pulls away, breathless. Scarlet burns over his cheeks, and his pupils are blown wide.
“Guess that answers my question,” he murmurs, and Wukong barely registers his words, too hypnotized by his beauty. How he didn’t fall in love with him sooner when Macaque looked so utterly sinful under the effects of lust was a mystery.
“You know me too well, bud,” Wukong coos, nosing at his neck and taking in his scent. His dick throbs against Macaque’s, and he hopes he can feel how he aches for him. Wukong’s hand travels over the shadow’s thigh once more, grabbing a handful of his ass before speaking.
“Need me to get you ready?”
Macaque meets his gaze, swirling copper burning into scarlet.
“Yeah. I wanna feel you already.”
Wukong swallows thickly, fingers trailing further down to the warrior’s hole. By gods, he sure as hell wasn’t going to keep him waiting any longer.
“T-Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he mutters, silently thanking the gods above that Macaque chose not to wear anything during his dip in the springs today. The shadow nods in understanding, spreading his legs a little wider over the king, patiently awaiting him. Wukong bites his lip as he gingerly presses his finger in, dick throbbing at the infernal heat that envelops him. It had been much too long since he felt him around his fingers, his tongue, and his dick.
Wukong watches Macaque’s expression carefully, the way his brows furrow in concentration as he descends onto his finger. Sweat glistens over his forehead and neck, trailing down the soft mounds of his chest and pecs. His mouth practically waters at the sight, and Wukong wastes no time closing the distance to leave his mark wherever he pleases on the woefully blank canvas before him, moaning at the lewd taste of salt on his tongue.
“Ah— Wukong,” Macaque sighs, moaning when his ass meets the king’s knuckle. Wukong doesn’t reply, busying himself with one of the shadow’s dark nipples. He rolls it gently between his teeth, relishing the sinful little noise it gets out of Macaque, then frames the sensitive bud by sinking his fangs into the surrounding flesh. Macaque’s hips jerk in reply, and he cants involuntarily on Wukong’s finger.
“Easy, Mac,” he coos against heated skin, “It’s been a while— don’t hurt yourself.”
Macaque giggles into Wukong’s lips, and it’s a divine sound. His hands slide up the soft mounds of his chest, mapping out his body all over again. The touch would make the king crumble were he not already sitting down, more so when those burning hands reach his neck, fingers twirling through the soaked strands of his auburn fur.
Mirth sits in his gaze and makes his eyes sparkle, makes his cheeks redden and makes his smile warmer. It’s everything Wukong’s ever wanted, and he makes sure to savor every second. Macaque looks at him like he’s the center of his very universe, like there’s beauty in his every breath. And Wukong can only hold him closer, knowing he’s earned his right to be here, the right to be gazed upon as if he were a dream taken form.
“Ha, I’ll be fine. It’s hardly been a while for me.”
“Too busy thinking about me?” Wukong lightheartedly titters. It’s meant to be a joke, but the following blush that creeps onto Macaque’s face tells him he’d just unintentionally hit the nail on the head.
“Wait, did you—”
“Yeah,” the warrior breathes, “After I finally sorted my own mess out, I mean. I couldn’t stop thinking about the agreement. How you would look at me like I was the king between us. I guess I kinda… I dunno. I kinda wanted it to be real. For it to mean something, y’know?”
“Y-Yeah,” Wukong replies gracelessly, the words escaping him. As far as he was concerned, Macaque was his king, and he would do nothing but treat him as such. He was free to love him without restraint or fear, and that’s exactly what he would do for as long as Macaque would have him.
Macaque sighs as he descends onto Wukong’s finger once more.
“Another. I need you so badly, Wukong.”
His voice cracks, and the shadow tucks his face away into the crook of Wukong’s neck, his breathing growing heavy as he takes yet another finger. The king shivers at the feeling of their bare torsos making full contact, soaked skin grinding against skin, so hot he’s certain it’ll bring the spring to a boil. He feels Macaque lips gingerly kissing at his neck and jawline, and the last remaining bits of coherency in his thoughts effectively turn to dust in an instant.
He wants to hear him say it again and again, to know that the Six-Eared Macaque needed him. Whether It be emotionally or carnally, Wukong relishes in the feeling of being so desired by his lover, knowing that his presence was needed.
“Again,” he murmurs into the thick fur of the shadow, easing a third finger inside of him. Macaque takes him so well, rocking onto his fingers slowly, as if savoring the feeling of having him inside of him once more. It was hard for Wukong to stay mad about Macaque nearly making off with another man, not when he looks at him as if he were the very reason the sun rose and fell every day. Even when he’s with another person, Macaque’s only capable of thinking about him, and gods if that didn’t do wonders for Wukong’s ego.
“Say it again,” he commands, voice teetering on a possessive growl.
“I need you, Wukong,” the warrior obediently repeats, his voice a low timbre in his ear. He suckles at the lobe, teeth pulling at skin as his hands roam freely over every inch of his body like it were uncharted territory. Wukong moans, rocking harder against the warrior. He’s so much bolder in touching him, and after spending so long craving his touch, Wukong would cherish every second his hands were on him.
His dick throbs hard against Macaque’s, and he pulls away just enough so that he can claim the warrior’s lips again, kissing him with enough force that their teeth clack. He rides his fingers slowly, picking up speed as he accustoms himself to the stretch. Wukong slides his other hand down Macaque’s back, submerging under the water and catching the base of his tail between spread fingers. He feels every smooth roll of his hips under his palm as he kisses him, moaning against him as the shadow purrs lowly. The silken heat wrapped around his fingers taunts him, and Wukong’s dick aches at the thought of slipping inside of him already.
“Mac,” he sighs, voice ragged. He’s teetering on the precipice of ecstasy, but he won’t let himself fall just yet. “I-I need you, too. I wanna… make this mean something to you.”
Macaque laughs, pressing their foreheads together.
“You already have.”
Wukong’s chest fills with that warm feeling he spent so long struggling to identify and accept. He embraces it wholly, knowing he was in a realm of safety with his lover now, in a place where he could trust him.
He loves him.
Macaque then knocks his forehead against the king’s before lifting himself off of Wukong’s fingers.
“I wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t, you idiot,” he shakily murmurs, but it holds no bite. If anything, it holds a sentimental fondness, his bizarre way of offering reassurance to the king. Wukong wouldn’t have it any other way.
Macaque presses a quick kiss to his lips before speaking again.
“D-Did you… want me to ride you?”
It’s barely above a whisper, but something about the timidness, the bluntness goes straight to Wukong’s dick. This was new, unfamiliar territory for the both of them, but the feeling of having Macaque wrapped around his cock was hardly unfamiliar. Images of their past trysts flood Wukong’s mind in an instant, everything from Wukong’s favorite positions to see Macaque in and the utterly obscene sounds Macaque makes because of him. It makes his heart race, knowing he’d be able to experience him all over again.
“Yes,” Wukong replies, more breathless than he would’ve liked, “Gods, yes. I love you so much, Mac— lemme show you.”
“I-I…” Macaque trails off, opting instead to surge forward and capture Wukong in yet another kiss, one of eagerness, one that speaks the words he hesitates to say. It may not be as easy for Macaque to say, but Wukong knows it in his stone heart, can feel his passion in his kiss. He loves him too, and what more could he possibly ask for?
“By all means,” he purrs instead, lifting himself up. He uses a hand to guide Wukong’s dick to his entrance, and the king feels his fingers tremble with anticipation, exhilaration thrumming through his veins. “And I’ll show you, too.” Then, he smirks with a hint of playfulness in his eye, “Can’t have you one-upping me, after all.”
Wukong licks his lips.
“’Course not.”
Slowly, Macaque lowers himself, his face scrunching up as he takes Wukong inch by inch. The king’s head tips over the rocks, and he hisses through his teeth as he’s enveloped in his lover’s infernal heat once again. Sweat rolls down the sides of his temples, and he sinks his fingers into Macaque’s pretty fur to keep his head from spinning, hard enough to leave indents in his skin.
It feels so much more different this time around; Wukong can’t help but feel as if a new flame had been lit inside of him, fueled by the burning coals of passion and igniting throughout his core. He wants to make this good for Macaque, wants to leave him completely and utterly breathless, to share with him the magnitude of his deepest affections by whatever means necessary.
He gasps when Macaque bottoms out, feeling his thighs tremble atop his own. Heavy breathing fills the air, and Wukong moans at the feeling of teeth carving into the flesh of his neck, involuntarily spreading his legs wider. He lowers his hands down to grab palmfuls of his warrior’s supple ass, massaging gently to help soothe any pain.
Wukong looks up at him to ask if he’s okay, but isn’t able to get a word out when the haze in Macaque’s eyes immediately silence him. He’s panting hard, his bitten lips parted over every breath, and the pupils of his mismatched eyes consume the edges of his irises, blown wide with lust.
“You feel so good, Mac,” the king sighs, breath hitching when Macaque shifts. The warrior wraps his arms around Wukong’s shoulders, the adoration in his eyes brighter than the sun, and Wukong wants nothing more than to bask in his warmth. He grasps at Macaque’s waist, intending to take control and please him the way he really liked it.
“H-Here, lemme…” Wukong whines, voice raising in pitch when Macaque slowly raises, the sublime drag of his silken walls around his cock effectively erasing the last traces of a coherent thought in his mind. The warrior ignores his attempt to take control of the pace, but Wukong can’t bring it in himself to care. All he can focus on is his warrior, the sweet trail of kisses he leaves over his face and the hands tangled in his hair, tenderly massaging at his scalp as he rides him.
“Relax, Wukong. You’ve done so much for me…” he replies, sighing hotly against his skin as he mouths at the spot just under his king’s ear. Wukong shivers at the sinful melody of Macaque’s voice, a divine orchestra of heated moans amongst the subtle hitches of his breath, a song he never tires of hearing. “Why don’t I spoil you for a change?”
The king knits his brows tightly together and squeezes his eyes shut, his breath shaky with the effort to contain himself, to keep himself from spoiling the fun and humiliating himself far too soon. He already feels like he’s about to tip right over the edge, his muscles flexing hard when Macaque works his way into a slow pace.
Macaque suckles at him, his lithe body rolling against Wukong’s as he rides him, savoring every inch of his cock and taking all of him with a surprising amount of ease. The king matches his pace as best as he can, leaning his face into his lover and breathing him in, taking in the heady scent of sex and his own unique scent all over him. He can’t help but feel his ego swell a bit, knowing there would never be another who Macaque would allow to get this close to him. Wukong was the only one, as he always was.
Macaque’s hand slides over russet fur and over to caress Wukong’s cheek, gingerly lifting his face up to meet his gaze. The sheer adoration that shone in his eyes now takes a backseat, consumed by something fiery and hungry.
“Fuck, I missed you.”
Wukong chokes out a needy sound, breath stolen when Macaque surges forward and kisses him, thrusting his tongue into his mouth to claim whatever the hell he wants. He settles into a rhythm that has the both of them groaning, wanton sounds filling the steamy air. High, pathetic moans scrape at Wukong’s throat, pleasure setting him aflame, nearly as hot as Macaque’s touch over his skin and fur, every trail of his fingers feeling as if they left blazes in their wake.
He’s touching him— really touching him, his hands dragging over his pecs, winding around his neck, and cupping at his jaw so he can bring Wukong closer. Wukong basks in every brush, caress, and tremble of his fingers over his skin, soaking up each and every moment of contact like a sponge. He meets Macaque’s pace eagerly, meeting him head on as if they hadn’t spent any time apart whatsoever. He still knew everything Macaque liked, all of his weak points. How could he forget?
Macaque sobs into his mouth, only pulling away to leave open-mouthed kisses over Wukong’s body, showering him with the luxury of his treacly affections. His thighs tremble over his own, and he presses his hardness against Wukong, grinding wantonly against him. It only makes his own cock throb inside of him, and Wukong grits his teeth once more, his hips stuttering.
“M-Mac…”
“Ha… You close already, Wukong?” he moans out, his voice sounding just as ragged as Wukong’s.
“Fuck… You wish. Y-You’ll finish way before I do.”
Wukong can only hope that’s the case, but with the way Macaque’s riding him, even he knows he doesn’t have a chance in hell. The time they’d spent apart hardly seems to matter to his warrior— he’s still just as experienced and well-versed in the chords of Wukong’s body as he was when they parted, plucking the strings within his heart and playing his divine melody.
“Yeah?” Macaque rasps, “We’ll— ah— see about that.”
A guttural groan tumbles from the king’s lips as Macaque clenches around him, his leg nearly jerking beneath the waves. It’s enough to nearly push him over the edge, but Wukong won’t be defeated so easily. He sinks his nails into the shadow’s soaked fur and pulls him down hard onto his cock when he descends, earning a wonderfully sinful sound from his warrior.
“M-Mac,” Wukong sobs, “I love you, I love you—” he babbles mindlessly, his hips thrusting of their own accord as he sings his deepest affections to his lover. He tells him he loves him enough times for each one of his six ears to know, that way Macaque would never forget. And if that’s not enough, then Wukong would gladly tell him several times more.
Macaque whines, his movements growing more erratic. Cherry red consumes the scarlet of his celestial marking, and his eyes are glazed over. Evidence of their lovemaking decorates his skin in the form of bitemarks and hickies, and his obsidian fur is beyond saving. He’s the most beautiful being Wukong has ever had the honor of laying his eyes on, and knowing that Macaque viewed him in the same light makes him hopelessly giddy in a way words can’t quite describe.
The shadow kisses Wukong once, twice before speaking, his voice low enough for only his king’s ears.
“I-I love you too.”
Macaque only needs to whisper those words once, once for it to ring through Wukong’s ears like a bell, once for it to completely dismantle him from the inside out and leave him reeling. He doesn’t have to pathetically imagine anymore, Macaque was real and he was here, sharing this tender moment with him, this moment where the world stops on its axis just for them. He mutters a promise of devotion for his king, copper eyes glittering with heavy lust and fondness.
Before he even realizes it’s happening, Wukong shivers and cums hard, his fingers leaving bruises under Macaque’s thick pelt. He cries out, his hips thrusting of their own accord as he paints those silken walls in his colors. His thighs quiver beneath the spring water, and he tips his head back over the rocks once more as Macaque uses him, groaning when pointed nails sink into his shoulders for leverage.
Words completely fail Wukong, his vision going white with every greedy descent of his warrior. Teeth nibble over the hickeys on his neck, and Wukong’s voice is so ragged that he can only give a weak whimper in response, He pinches his eyes shut and eases his nails out of his moon, his hands instead loosely following the rolling movements of his waist.
It doesn’t take long before Macaque follows his own euphoric release, pressing his ass flush with Wukong’s trembling thighs as he arches his back and cums with a noisy sound. Wukong whines as the walls clamping around his spent cock clench around him, gritting his teeth at the overstimulation sparking like electricity over his every nerve.
Lips crash against Wukong’s own as Macaque rides out his high, the tight grip of his hands in his hair slackening and dangling behind Wukong’s neck. He pants into his lover’s mouth, tongue gracelessly gliding against his as their bodies heave for air.
The king pulls away, a belated humiliation souring his mood over the fact that he didn’t last nearly as long as he would’ve liked. Some way to impress his newlyfound mate.
“S-Sorry, Mac... I didn’t mean to—”
Macaque shuts him up with another kiss, the movement causing his hips to shift and wrenching out another noise deep from Wukong’s throat.
“Shut up,” he mumbles, swiftly diving back down for more of Wukong’s taste, “Gods, that was so hot. You make me wanna go again.”
The suggestion alone makes Wukong’s spent cock twitch with agreement inside of Macaque, and his knee nearly jerks at the sensation. Wukong whines in response. As delicious as the thought sounds, he was entirely too wrung out physically and emotionally to go back for seconds. For now, anyways.
Besides, he really wanted to get to the part they were never able to properly indulge in before: aftercare. The idea of spoiling his moon and showering him with all of the affections he no longer had to hide behind a veil of false nonchalance was just too tempting.
Macaque softly kisses the corner of his mouth before speaking once more.
“We can come back to it. Now let’s get outta this hot spring already. Feels like I’m about to start cooking alive in here.”
“Good ide— ah!”
Without warning, Macaque eases himself off of Wukong, wobbly on his feet when he attempts to stand in the hot spring. His hand shoots out to grasp the king’s shoulder for balance, crimson staining his cheeks with a hint of bashfulness.
“Ah… Been a while since that happened, huh?”
“Yeah,” Wukong agrees, breathless at the sight of his lover standing over him. Then, with a cheeky grin, he winks and proudly puffs his chest out. “Still got it.”
Macaque just rolls his eyes, bitten lips quirked up into a smile. He removes his hand from Wukong’s shoulder, using it to instead splash hot water at him.
“Eugh, stop talking. You ruined it.”
Wukong giggles, but before he can retaliate with his own splash, Macaque’s offering his hand out to help him stand. Mirth sparkles in his eyes like the setting sun glitters over the surface of the water, and Wukong thinks he might just be the luckiest man in the world.
He takes Macaque’s hand in his, his own legs nearly giving out on him. He tries to hide it, but Macaque’s knowing smirk tells him he didn’t do a very good job.
“Looks like I still got it, too.”
“Booo, get your own jokes.”
“They’re better when I say ‘em,” Macaque replies matter-of-factly, using Wukong for support as he lowers himself back to the bench. He winces when he takes a seat, having given up on his mission of making it out of the hot spring. Courtesy of Wukong, of course.
“Nevermind. I’ll just wait ‘til I can actually get up. ‘Sides,” he nuzzles into Wukong’s neck affectionately, a low purr starting from his chest, “I’m not in a rush to go anywhere.”
Wukong flushes, wrapping an arm around him. He didn’t have to worry about Macaque leaving, or how cold he would feel afterwards. He was here, snuggling against him and breathing him in, content and seeming mere moments away from falling asleep. It’s nice. Really nice.
Wukong trails his fingers through the shadow’s thick mane, smiling to himself. Macaque’s sleepiness must be contagious, because Wukong starts to feel tired too, his eyelids starting to droop.
“You could just portal us back to our— uh… my place, I mean,” he corrects himself, clearing his throat awkwardly.
Macaque’s ears twitch, but he doesn’t open his eyes to respond.
“Our place, huh?”
Wukong bristles, cringing at himself. He hadn’t even given it a ghost of a thought before he’d gone and blurted it aloud. Gods, he hopes he didn’t just make this weird.
His worries are put to rest when Macaque nuzzles into him, bringing one of his arms to rest over his shoulder.
“…Sure. When I feel like it, I’ll portal us back to our place. Sound good?” he coolly asks, but Wukong can see the bits of red dusting his cheeks. His heart beats a little faster, and it feels as if it’s the first time all over again.
“Yeah,” Wukong mutters, pressing his lips to the top of Macaque’s head. His voice is soft when he speaks again.
“That sounds good.”