Josephine | By : Jamaica Category: Gensomaden Saiyuki > General Views: 1296 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Gensomaden Saiyuki, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Author's Note:
Huh, disclaimer for something that is very mainstream because it is a
reincarnation fic. Everything belongs to me, except for the original inspiration
and usage of Kazuya Minekura's characters as baseline because, dude, this is
reincarnation of the Sanzo-ikkou. She still gets all the credit she
deserves though. With that said, I also like to clarify that the characters'
personalities are a little bit off from what we know. Since their god-forms does
not match-up exactly with their human/youkai forms personality-wise, I figure
it's safe to do so in another reincarnation of pure humans.
Josephine
Part 1
They called him Josephine. Whether it was
actually Joseph but became feminized or it was Josephine to begin with, we never
found out. It wasn’t at all important at the time, his name. We were looking
for much more trivial things when we came across him at Delilah’s Loft.
Earlier
that day Spencer got fired from his postman job. Delivered too many wrong
addresses, they said. I knew better. The mix-ups were only side consequences to
Spencer’s habit of getting sky-high off the green cherries. I’ve been to his
apartment and if you couldn’t smell them halfway up the stairs, you know
you’re at the wrong place. Spencer got a brother down in Mexico who
recurrently supplies him. High-quality goods they were, too. Not that I smoke
green cherries on a regular basis or anything, but one gets tired of smelling
the factory’s filth and needs some refreshments once in a while.
“Let’s
go out,” Spencer said to me as he dawdled on my doorsteps. “Your treat.”
I
rolled my eyes. As if I’d really let him pay after he just got laid off.
“Give me a few, will ya, man?” I backed up from the door to let him inside.
“I need to clean up first.”
“Well,
hurry up.”
I
work at a clock factory. It made me more aware of time than anything else.
Sometimes I just want to smash every single clock that I see in the stores’
windows, because their deception of cleanness is a constant reminder of exactly
how much sweat and grime we put into them. I usually take a shower immediately
after work, just to get the itchiness out of my skin.
I
left Spencer in the living room and went to the bathroom in the back. Ten
minutes later I reentered the room with just a towel and saw Spencer watching
Iron Chef.
I
was about to say something when I heard a loud crash from my kitchen. I raised
an eyebrow, then turned left to investigate. I saw brown hair sticking up from
the refrigerator’s door and scoffed.
“Get
out my fridge, monkey,” I said, yanking him up by a fistful of hair. “Who
let you in here, anyway?”
“I
did.” Spencer called from his position, before the kid could open that big
mouth of his and protest.
“He’s
not coming with us, is he?” I dragged Mike into the living room and threw him
on the couch. “’Cause I ain’t paying for animals.”
“Who
you callin’ animal? And who needs your money? I have a job, you know.”
“Shut
up!” Spencer yelled, clobbering Mike on the head with the first thing he could
grab, which was unfortunately my ashtray. I left the two of them alone to battle
it out. Not much breakable things in the living room and I did need to get
dressed.
Mike
is Spencer’s second cousin. I called him monkey because he worked in a circus.
He’s the trapeze artist. The Midnight Bonanza, as the name goes, is currently
performing gigs in the five-star Arrington Hotel downtown. However, they don’t
get room provisions, so Mike hitched a space with Spencer, said it’s easier to
split rent, family and all. They’ve shared a roof for a couple of weeks now.
We
argued for a while on where to go. Spencer wanted to go to Mickey D’s; it’s
cheap. Mike agreed. I didn’t. It’s the weekend and I want to go somewhere
rowdier. Plus, I’m paying. Spencer’s argument was that Mike’s too young
for those places, which immediately made Mike insisting on we do
go, because of course he’s not too young, technically. Finally we came to the
conclusion that if we’re gonna go at all we might as well go to the shadiest
spot in town.
And
so we found ourselves seated in the crowded hot room of Delilah’s Loft,
waiting for a scantily clad waitress to take our orders for the evening.
“What
would you gentlemen like to start with?” The girl asked, leaning low toward
the table and consequently showing off her ample cleavage. Spencer eyed her,
feigning disinterest. Mike’s attention was solely on the menu. I lit a
cigarette.
“Lasagna!”
Mike called out loudly above the rest of the noise. I laughed at the startled
reaction from the waitress. She played it off nicely, smiling to cover her shock
and went on to ask about drinks. I ordered a sandwich and two bottles of
Heineken. Spencer didn’t even pick up the menu. Instead, he motioned for the
waitress to come closer, who gladly obliged and inadvertently gave us another
eyeful.
“What’s
the house special?” Spencer asked in an even voice.
The
waitress’s smile grew brighter. “Chicken quesadilla. With a side of
salad.” Spencer nodded his consent as she quickly wrote it down. “If you
gentlemen need anything else, just call me and I’ll be of service. I’m
Maria.”
She
swiftly turned around and flittered to another table. I leaned back in my chair
and smirked at Spencer. Subtle, yes, but he didn’t fool me. His eyes hadn’t
left the girl’s curves the entire time she was present. I tsked. “You know,
Spence, you could do a lot better than that.”
He
snickered. “I’m not as picky a john as you are, Lawrence. And need I remind
you: I just lost my job.”
“What?
You did?” Mike piped up, “When?”
“Today,”
I answered, despite Spencer’s dagger looks. “I’ll buy you a lap dance with
that chick.”
“I
have enough money to get it myself, thank you very much.” He replied gruffly.
I
grinned. “Who said I’d buy you it for free? You’re gonna have to pay me
back when you get another job.”
Spencer’s
eyes glinted when he understood my intention. He pursed his lips. “Two weeks.
I’ll pay you back in two weeks.”
I
offered him a cigarette. “Deal. Now go pick yourself a better girl.”
The
food came to the table then. Mike, who had been trying to listen in on our
conversation, dove straight to his plate like a starved lion. I took a bite from
my sandwich and was going to open my first bottle of beer when someone bumped
against the back of my chair.
I
glanced over. The first thing I saw was a slender waist with high hips squeezing
past our table. Following the curve of the back were long legs wrapped shapely
in faded jeans. They rolled swiftly forward, a dip accentuating each step. One
arm was raised high with a platter on top of the open palm. The angular shoulder
blades jutted out a little from the green pullover. Thick black hair contrasted
sharply with the white neck, exposing ears fully decorated with cuffs and hoops
and chains.
He
tilted his face toward me, a piercing look in his eyes. Dark green, they were,
and hooked onto me the minute we made eye contact. He had crisp features,
simultaneously soft and jagged looking. A fleeting smile graced his lips.
Then
he turned around and was gone.
I
must have sat motionless with my hands in the position of opening up the bottle
for a good while. My mouth was hanging open, and the surrounding loud noise
faded into a white blend of static. It was Mike’s incessant calling of my name
that brought me back to our table.
“Who
were you looking at? Was it someone you know?” he asked, gulping down Cherry
Coke.
I
finally popped the cap off the glass. “No. Forget it, monkey, okay?”
“Quit
calling me – oof.” Mike’s usual retort was cut off by an elbow from
Spencer. The blond leaned forward, a very rare and distinct smirk on his face.
I
flicked him off and proceeded to eat my sandwich.
When
we’re all stuffed and buzzed and ready for some real action, Maria magically
reappeared at our table. They do all have perfect timing, I admit. She sidled
next to Spencer, who gave me a pointed look and asked, “Say, who’s the
green-eyed waiter?”
“Oh
that’s Josephine,” she chirped. I raised an eyebrow at the name. “He’s
new. Do you . . . want me to get him for you?”
“Yeah,”
I drawled. “But you come back too, sweetheart. My friend here’s taken a
quite liking of you.”
She
flashed her brightest smile before she left. Spencer kicked me hard under the
table. I grinned back. Mike just sighed and plopped down on the wooden surface.
“What’s
the matter?” I asked him.
“None
of the girls are cute here,” he complained. “They’re all very . . .
professional.”
I
couldn’t control my laughter. Give it to Mike to state the profound truth,
always. Just then, Maria came back with the young man behind her.
I
felt my breaths catch. He simply stood there, waiting. His expression a smug
assessment while those eyes sliced through us. My lips curled involuntarily into
a leer.
“How
much?” I asked.
Spencer
and Maria were already deeply involved in their own little trade. Mike was
searching the room, probably trying to find a “cute” girl to play with and
failing. The waiter focused his attention on me and spoke. “How much are you
willing to pay?”
I
held up my left hand. Two fingers. “For everything.” I clarified.
He
stared at me. I would have been staring too, if it were someone else. Half a
month’s rent isn’t something one could just throw around, especially as an
opener. Good thing Spencer was occupied, or he’d have hit me on the head and
order me to take the price down. To this day I still can’t explain why I did
it. It just happened.
Josephine
– god, it sounds so odd on a guy – tucked a stray hair behind his ear. “I
don’t do fetishes.”
I
was almost offended. Yeah, so you have long hair and wear a few chains and of
course everyone automatically assumes you’re into s&m. “You don’t do
fetishes for the price I’m giving ya, you mean.” I parried and stood up.
“But no, I don’t like those. Deal?”
He
conceded with a small dip of his head. He’s thin as a rail but not any shorter
than me in height. I put a hand on the small of his back, urging him to turn
around and start walking. He did, smoothly and without a fuss. He knew where I
was headed, or, where I wanted to be lead. I looked over my shoulder and did an
exaggerated wave at the table. Only Mike reciprocated.
“You
don’t waste any time,” Josephine said as we zigzagged through the dining
room.
“And
you don’t waste any words,” I replied. What is with this guy? I was
beginning to doubt my decision based on a pretty face. “You know, this
attitude is not going to win you any customers.”
We
stopped in front of a white door. Josephine reached into his back pocket and
took out a key. As he inserted it into the lock I heard he answer softly, “You
aren’t paying me for my attitude now. Are you?”
The
room was bigger than it looked from the outside. Josephine stepped next to the
bed, absentmindedly running a hand on top of the covers. He turned to face me
with a mischievous glint in his eyes. I walked closer toward him. My pants were
beginning to feel tight.
“So,
how do you like it?” he asked. His hand reached up to his shirt collar and
began to open the buttons.
I
suddenly couldn’t find any words to speak as he undressed himself. He was
beautiful, with creamy alabaster skin that reflected an eerily cold sheen. His
chest was lean and muscular, as was the rest of him, I’ve discovered. My eyes
focused again on the white neck, and I was burning with desire to push him onto
the bed and devour the flesh with lips and tongue and teeth. His earrings shone
as he bent down to remove his pants and socks.
He
straightened up again and I realized he didn’t wear any underwear. I stared
unabashedly. Now my pants were definitely too tight, and the bulge was
getting very visible. “Uh . . .” I choked out.
I
heard him chuckle lightly. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”
I
sputtered something unintelligible. He advanced toward me, a knowing expression
on his face. My hands reached out for him involuntarily, eager to embrace the
figure and make his smoothness my own.
But
I missed. He went down on his knees before I could even lay a finger on him. My
fly was quickly pulled open and immediately he’s on me, taking me fully into
his mouth and not meeting my eyes. My fingers wounded into his thick black hair
and I pulled on the soft strands. Blood was leaving my head in bursts, while my
legs began to wobble on their own.
I
would have been truly in heaven had not something felt off. He wasn’t using
his tongue, his throat constricted in such a way that I could tell clearly he
was very uncomfortable, and the feeling was pretty damn mechanical. So I yanked
on his hair a bit harder, and told him to stop.
He
looked quite perplexed when he stood up. His lips were slightly swollen and
flushed pink. I let my hands slide down the sides of his face, caressing them
even as he flinched. I leaned forward and covered his mouth with my own.
Josephine
gasped and jerked backwards. I didn’t let go of contact, and we both tumbled
onto the bed next to us. His legs spread beneath mine. His arms blocked and
pushed against my chest, trying to throw my kiss off. I grabbed his arms and
pushed them down on the mattress. He had the barest hint of an erection, and his
skin was freezing cold.
“What’s
the matter?” I asked him in between breaths. “This isn’t your first time,
is it?”
“Don’t
kiss me,” he said.
I
paused. Poised on top of him like that with all of our body parts touching in
the devilish way, it was quite a feat on my part to hold myself still. I could
feel his legs moving under mine, the muscles tensing and relaxing alternatively.
The green from his eyes rippled as his gaze bore into mine. His lips were
pressed into a thin fine line.
I
stroked his pulse gently. “Should’ve said that earlier.”
He
opened his mouth and a breeze of air blew past my lips instead of words. I
dipped my head down and kissed his neck. The flesh finally made its way into my
mouth. I sucked on it despite the distractions his limbs and pelvis created,
forming an inflamed red patch on the side of the lily-white throat.
When
his legs finally grew still beneath me and the pretense of a struggle subsided,
I began the real thing, sliding my lips on any and every part of flesh on his
chest while wriggling out of my jeans. His arms fell on my shoulder. I smirked
when I felt fingers drawing shadows on my back.
“What’re
you writing?” I asked.
His
smile was coy. “Different ways of spelling your name.”
“You
don’t know my name.”
“Does
it matter?”
I
laughed out loud. “Guess not. But what’re you going to call out while I’m
fucking you senseless?” I grinded my hips against his parted legs for
emphasis. Oh, he’s up. Well, Lawrence, you got something working here.
His
tongue darted out quickly, nipping the end my nose. It left a wetness there,
itchy and slick. “Number 433.”
Ouch.
All right. I pushed myself up on my elbows and knees, severing the firm contact
we had minutes before. “Lube?”
“Should
be in those drawers.”
There
were prism-white drawers beside the bed. I’ve wandered about that, actually,
on why would someplace like Delilah’s keep a room for obvious fornication
white. The bed sheet was white cotton, the walls were a very light grey, and
those drawers almost blinding when glanced upon. I opened the second drawer and
immediately saw a pack of condoms. The lubricant was in the top one. It was new.
Josephine
didn’t shift from his spot from the bed as I went about preparing. His packed
gaze told me plenty, but he was content enough to simply lie around and watch me
sliding oil on my erection. I stifled a groan. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“About?”
“How
I want it. How I like it. The stuff you’ve been trained to ask.”
He
masked his expression with nonchalance. “I wasn’t trained to do anything.
Plus, I asked you that already. You didn’t answer.”
I
recapped the bottle and climbed back on the bed. “Ask it again. I’ll answer
this time.”
“What
do y –”
I
only let him finish half of the question before I suddenly jumped. He let out a
muffled grunt as I fell against him, my much-neglected erection plunging into
his entrance in one quick movement. “I like it fast.” I said, my lips took
in a triangle-shaped earring.
He
let out another grunt, more towards a moan this time around. His legs at first
spread wide from the impact. They collapsed now against the back of my thighs,
toes landing near my knee joint. I put in more weight and rocked deeper. “And
hard.”
I
didn’t expect an answer and received none.
His
body’s rhythmic constrictions matched his soft moans. My lower half body was
on fire, being enveloped in such delicious heat and friction. His wrapped his
arms tighter around me, pulling me closer and still further inside him. I
shifted my position slightly and promptly he arched, back bowing forward into me
and nearly lifting us both off the bed. I braced against him as we drifted in
and out of the sheets crumpling along the bed.
He
came first, way before I did. I could feel him reveling in the afterglow as I
still plunged inside him, seeking my own release. The fluids stuck to my abdomen
as I followed suit, rendering the thin condom into its deserved pitiful state.
We lay there for a good while just so we could reclaim our breaths.
“Two
hundred,”
His
voice brought me back down to earth. I reluctantly retreated from him. Digging
through my jean pockets I retrieved a wad of cash. I pointedly counted out
twenty bills and laid them on a side table. Then I proceeded to get dressed as
Josephine lay naked on the bed, again watching me with a curious interest.
My
hand was on the door handle when I heard: “Thank you.”
I
turned, grinning. “Trained talk again?”
“Just
being polite.”
“You
want to know my name?”
Josephine’s
smile was wide and disarming. “No.”
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