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It all came to a head in one lazy evening, when clouds lazily strolled over the peach-pink sky as the sun slowly dipped into sleep over the slumbering sea.
Macaque came to his mountain like he owned the place, stomping over to where Wukong was lying down as he watched the clouds and tried to count the stars that slowly blinked awake. Wukong raised a brow at him and asked, “What, not even a hello?”
“I know what you’ve been doing and I need you to stop,” Macaque barreled without acknowledging Wukong’s question.
“I do a lot of things, you need to be more specific.”
Wukong had expected Macaque to grow livid at the obvious taunt. Things might be better for them these days, but it was still easy to rile each other up and it was so easy to fall back into patterns of using words and fists to claw each other and mark up their hearts with bleeding scars. But instead of getting angry and launching into barbed words, Macaque paused and took a deep breath.
“I don’t want to fight with you about this,” he said steadily, “but I’m serious when I said I need you to stop.” Another pause, and he stared straight into Wukong’s eyes. “I know you go downtown to bed random men.”
Wukong froze. Then a laughter forced itself out of his lips. “Buddy, I think who I choose to sleep with is no one’s business but mine.”
“I’m not saying it’s anyone’s business but yours. I’m just saying that you need to stop.”
“What are you, my mom?” Wukong scoffed. “It’s up to me what I want to do. If I decided I can have a good time with some hunk, then I can do that.”
Macaque paused again at that. His eyes seemed to burn, and Wukong wondered how upset he was that his hold of the glamour would slip at all. When he finally spoke, his voice a low, rolling growl that reverberated in the air. “I think you’re forgetting that I can tell if you’re lying to me or not.”
Wukong’s voice caught in his throat.
He didn’t know how many people’s beds he’d been in at this point.
Ten? Twenty? It all blurred together after the third one.
Did it matter?
It all ended up the same.
“How long has it been going on? Three months? Four?” Macaque asked. “I met you six months ago. I’ve seen you then. I can see how you are now. This is not you when you’re happy.”
“How do you even know if I’m happy or not? We haven’t even been on speaking terms in centuries,” Wukong scoffed despite the way his heart beat in panicked stutters.
The flash of hurt in Macaque’s face gave him pause. “And that erases the time we spent together before?” Macaque asked. “People grow but their core stay the same, Wukong, and I can still tell when you’re unhappy. You haven’t been happy in months.”
Too much, too much, too fast. Better claw him before he got clawed. Wukong gave a laugh that he hoped sounded mocking and said, “Takes one to know one, right? You haven’t been happy in a long time either. It’s rich of you to barge into my home and tell me that I’m not happy when you aren’t either.”
Macaque closed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Fine. Be like that. Let’s forget about your shit mental space. I’m not here about that anyway, I’m here to talk to you about your shit taste in bedding partners.”
Wukong rolled his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Whose bed I spend the night in isn’t anyone’s business but mine – “
“Azure told me.”
Cracks and splinters. It was almost impressive how easily Macaque broke him into pieces with simple words. Wukong wondered sometimes why he still stayed here to listen to Macaque when it was so easy for him to render him useless with nothing but a sneer and a few choice words.
It was even more impressive how easily Wukong could feel himself breaking apart when Macaque’s face grew desperate with unmasked concern, how he pleaded, “Talk to me. Please.”
The man that approached him was a tall one.
The man that approached him was a stocky one.
The woman that approached him was a flexible one.
It didn’t matter who they were. It all blended into one, some faceless amalgamation of people he’d met and spent a night with, none of them important enough to remember beyond touches that he could no longer differentiate. Was it the tall man who kissed him? Was it the stocky man who embraced him? Was it the flexible woman that caressed him?
Maybe all of them. Maybe none. He wasn’t about to waste his time puzzling over who was who when he didn’t even bother learning their names.
All he knew was there were fingers all over the heat of his skin, trailing down south. There was warmth around his dick – from a mouth, a hand, a hole of some kind, he could no longer tell. He just knew that some of them were good enough that it was worth remembering if only for the rush of feelings that came after the release. Some were so forgettable he would not even bother mentioning it even happened. Most were… enough. Good enough to be satisfied and for the experience to be worth it.
Still, none of them were worth remembering.
He was an immortal, and immortals slept less than mortals, and without fail he would wake and recover and watched as his partner of the night slept on. Each time he walked into a stranger’s home he hoped it would fill his chest with something that would make him feel alive.
It did fill his chest with something. It filled him with liquid agony, like a fire that burned through his heart and reached into his veins and choked him with empty, empty, empty. It reached greedily into his spine and dug into his marrows and sucked him dry from the inside. It shattered bones and basked in the splinters as what remained of Wukong’s heart cracked apart wider and wider with each passing day, with each stranger who smiled at him, with each stranger that got so much more in one night than he did in years.
He’d entered strangers’ homes hoping it would fill the void and make him feel alive. Instead he felt emptier than before after what little he could get evaporated in what felt like seconds. But he had no way of knowing how to fill the hollow in his chest but this.
Wukong’s voice came in a soft whisper. “What did Azure tell you?”
“Not much, and he clearly didn’t have all the information either,” Macaque admitted, “but it’s enough to piece things together. You don’t have to tell me anything,” he added when Wukong tensed. “I know I probably don’t have the full picture either. But I know enough to know that whatever is going on, you sleeping with random people isn’t going to help you.”
He needed to pull himself together. He could still fix this. Macaque didn’t need to know how broken he was. “Well, it makes me feel good,” he lied.
But Macaque just shook his head. “No one even knew your name. Anyone can pick you in a crowd and yet hardly anyone could tell how their hookup looked like. I know something is wrong. I just want you to stop hurting yourself.”
At least hurting means I feel something, Wukong did not say. At least it’s not that yawning nothingness that swallowed me whole.
The first one stood out in the sea of blurry faces. Maybe because it was the first one, and any first thing would leave an impression.
He approached from across the street, bearing a nervous look in his face. There was a faint whiff of alcohol on him – likely, mortals would not be able to smell it. He gave a smile – small and soft and shy – and asked him out in stuttered words.
He didn’t know what drove him to say yes, but he did.
The man brought him into an apartment, reasonably cluttered in a way that spoke of it being a home that was lived in. His bed was neatly made and smelled faintly of detergent. They wasted no time in stripping away their clothes and falling upon the sheets, eager to take each other apart.
It was… alright. Not the best sex he’d had, but not horrible either. The man was nice enough and attentive enough to his wants, and he was also pretty nice to look at.
It was fine. It was fine. He chose to come here and enter this house. This was his choice. He wanted it.
Before the man fell asleep after they were done, he gestured at the bedside table and pointed out the small notebook and pen. He asked for a name and a number to call.
He didn’t leave a name. He drew a doodle of a mountain, a flower, and a peach instead. Then he opened the bedroom window and watched as the man curled in sleep when the night breeze snuck in, and jumped out the window to land soundlessly on the ground.
He was filled during their intercourse, but he’d cleaned himself out as best as he could. What remained on him was intermingled sweat and the reek of sex. What little satisfaction he got out of the encounter was swiftly replaced by a yawning void even bigger than before.
He returned to his mountain and dunk himself into the river to wash away the remaining smell.
The next time he went into town, someone else approached him.
Knowing that he had spent a whole day laying on his side and staring into the mountain wall after he got back from the last encounter wondering if the earth could reclaim him, he said yes.
Wukong kept his lips sealed. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t let Macaque know. When the silence stretched, Macaque’s gaze turned desperate.
“Wukong, talk to me.” Macaque was so close to begging at this point. “Please talk to me. I just want you to be okay.”
It felt like Wukong’s heart was being squeezed.
“I can tell something is wrong,” Macaque said. “Please. I’m worried about you.”
Wukong’s gaze dropped to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut.
The other one that stood up in his mind was the last one, which was funny because they didn’t even get to fuck in the end. It’s also the one that made something in Wukong curdle with something he couldn’t quite recognize, because he knew who he would be sleeping with that night.
It was Azure.
Like the others, he approached when he was in town, but unlike the others there was clear recognition in his eyes and wonder and curiosity both. For the first time, he wondered if this was a bad idea, if he should go with the invitation, if he should back down.
But he yearned. That little gnaw of self loathing that kept growing and growing wanted to swallow him whole and he wanted to escape it all.
He said yes.
Azure brought him to his place, and it was… nice. Clean, tidy. Certainly one of the better rooms he’d visited. And even with all the baggage they had, Azure was and had always been polite and considerate. Part of him hated that he had a knowing and understanding look all the while.
The yawning void grew. It was different this time. Dread filled him up to the brim and he fumbled with his clothes as he tried to hide his trembling fingers. He’d barely even started when Azure’s hand took hold of his wrist, massive palm gripping gently but firmly, and his stupid brain wondered if Azure could snap him like a twig before he remembered he was made of stone.
“We don’t have to do it if you want to,” Azure said, gentle, gentle, and he prickled and bristled because he didn’t deserve any of it.
He covered it with a laughter. “What are you saying? Of course I want to. I came here and everything.”
“You can change your mind,” Azure pointed out. “And honestly, I didn’t expect you to agree to begin with.”
But he wanted it. He wanted it. Why else would he come here? It was his decision to say yes, it was his decision to step into Azure’s abode, it was his decision to be here, because he wanted an escape from that yawning void, even if that little escape would only allow it to grow bigger afterwards.
“You probably don’t trust me enough to tell me, but I’m here if you want to talk. A lot of people would be there for you if you just ask,” Azure said. “Do you want to do that instead? Talk? I’ll listen.”
He felt horribly seen in a way he hadn’t in… maybe centuries. He would deny it later, but a strangled sob escaped his lips as he wrenched his hand free. He ran to the window as he ignored Azure’s alarmed call and jumped out. The cloud caught his fall.
He flew straight back to Flower Fruit Mountain and resented the fact that he could not die.
“Wukong, please. I’m scared for you.”
He gnashed his teeth. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what…?”
Wukong shook his head. “I’m not worth it.”
“You are.”
“How am I even worth it?” Wukong challenged. “I fuck up all the time. So many people end up needing to clean up my mess. MK’s supposed to learn at his own pace but my failures keep forcing him to get out of his comfort zone, and he can’t even grow properly into his role because everything’s just sink or swim and he can barely paddle. You’re still suffering from what I did.”
Macaque was quiet.
He let out a sigh. “I’m not worth it. It’s a shame rocks can’t die.”
“You’re not just a rock,” Macaque argued weakly.
Wukong scoffed. “I was born from a rock. I might as well be one.”
“Regular rocks don’t breathe. They don’t have a beating heart either,” Macaque said. “And just because you’re made of rocks doesn’t mean that you can just try to shatter yourself over and over again.”
“Better shattering than being here at all,” Wukong muttered darkly, knowing full well that Macaque had better hearing than him.
“You don’t mean that. There’s so many things worth living for here.”
“Yeah, but they don’t deserve getting my filth all over them. Have you considered that?” Wukong snapped. “I’m the problem here. Remove me from everything and you won’t have to deal with my shit ever again.”
For a moment, Macaque was silent. Then his eyes met Wukong’s, and he asked, “What if I want to deal with your shit, then?”
Wukong’s jaws clicked shut. “You don’t mean that.”
“Who are you to decide what I do and don’t mean?” Macaque challenged. “So? What if I want t deal with your shit? What if I want to convince you to stay and stop breaking yourself? What do I do?”
This was wrong. This was Azure all over again, with Wukong holding up a jug full of sludge threatening to spill all over them both. But that yawning void never left and it sought to devour. Wukong wished it would.
But Macaque was there.
He hated this. He hated that he was even considering this. This would only end badly.
He closed the distance between them and pressed their foreheads together. Macaque’s eyes widened in surprise, but he kept his silence, waiting.
“I’m tired of being empty all the time,” Wukong whispered. “Make me feel.”
He’d half expected Macaque to reel back in disgust, that he would leave Wukong alone and prove that he really wasn’t worthy, that no one would care, that the yawning void really was just of his own making and he’d have to face his own mess for once in his impossible life. Instead Macaque’s gaze darkened. “And how do you expect me to do it?”
Push him, his mind whispered. Push him away. Before it’s too late. He’s too precious to carry the burden of your filth any more than he already has to.
“If you find so much problem with me sleeping around, then bed me,” he said. A challenge. There. Why would Macaque agree to that? In fact, why would anyone want that? How desperate must all of them be to agree to bring Wukong to their beds?
In response, Macaque surged forward to slot their lips together, and for the first time in what felt like forever Wukong’s mind was quiet.
When Macaque finally pulled away, Wukong blinked at him dazedly. Macaque simply stared back with the same dark look in his eyes, his pupils blown wide. “I’m not doing it on the ground when you clearly said bed,” he said voice low and rough already. He took Wukong’s hand and pulled. “Come, then.”
Macaque navigated his way with frightening familiarity and led Wukong to the small house Wukong built himself with his bare hands. He banged the door open, slammed it close when they were inside, and pushed Wukong to his uncomfortable bed with surprising gentleness. The rough sheet rubbed against Wukong’s neck. It felt like Macaque towered over Wukong, but for the first time, it didn’t make him feel small.
“How do you want me to do this?” Macaque asked. His voice was thick with want.
Wukong swallowed. “However you want.”
Macaque dove in.
His lips slotted back against Wukong’s, but this time he forced his way in for a taste. And Wukong, weak, weak, useless Wukong, had never been able to deny Macaque. This had always been a losing battle right from the start.
It felt like they were trying to submerge in each other, drowning in the musk of each others’ needs and want and heady with the scent of lust. Whenever they surface for air they only caught whiff of one another and they drowned more into one another. Soon their clothes were off and their hands were free to roam freely, caressing and digging into flesh hungrily.
“Tell me what you want,” Macaque whispered into Wukong’s ear.
“Whatever you want,” Wukong answered.
“I know what I want,” Macaque said. He paused to lick Wukong’s lips and mouth at his cheek. “I’m not sure you know what you want.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me,” Wukong insisted. His breath hitched when Macaque’s roaming hands found their targets; fingers flicking at his nipples and teasing the tip of his dick.
“What if I told you I would give you everything?” Macaque asked. He burrowed his face into the crook of Wukong’s neck and took a deep breath. “What if I tell you that all of me is yours? Will you want that?”
“I – “ Wukong’s voice caught in his throat. His eyes burned. “I’m not – I’m not worth it.”
“Too bad. Your opinion doesn’t change the fact that I want to give all of me to you anyway.” Macaque slid down. Slowly, he pushed Wukong’s legs apart and dipped his fingers into his mouth, wetting them. “It’s my decision what I want to give you, and I want to give you whatever you want.”
Slowly, his finger entered Wukong. Combined with his other hand that was still teasing Wukong’s tip with his thumb, the sensations punched the air out of his lungs and Wukong keened with want. Too much, too much, too fast.
But he was greedy, greedy, and he would not say no to whatever he was offered.
“Would you take it, if I give all of me to you?” Macaque asked. His voice was quiet, but Wukong could feel the weight of his conviction.
“Why?” was all Wukong capable of saying. Macaque probed inside him and he keened louder.
“Because you’re the only one who thinks that you’re not worth it,” he answered, “and I wish to make you see that you’re worth every inch of this world. But that’s not mine to give. I only have myself, so that’s all I can offer to you.”
There was so much Wukong wanted to argue in that. Don’t give me the world. I will only soil it. Don’t give me yourself. I will only ruin you. But in testament of the yawning void within him that took and took, he only knew of his own lust. With great effort he pushed himself to sit and grab Macaque’s head, winding his fingers into his hair and kissing him desperately.
“Then give me all of you,” he breathed, “and pray that I won’t ruin you.”
“If it’s you, I’m glad to be ruined,” Macaque purred. Without warning, he sunk another finger into Wukong and swallowed his moans in a kiss.
Having Macaque opening him up like this was so much different from doing it with faceless strangers. There was a touch of fear still gnawing at him – I can’t let myself ruin you, I lied, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry – but Macaque knew him and worked him open so well that he couldn’t help but let himself sink into it all. He panted as Macaque scissored him open and licked and swallowed his cock in his mouth, tongue swirling and pressing at the veins. Wukong swallowed his pooling saliva and watched as Macaque glanced up to meet his gaze and wondered how he ended up here at all.
Macaque sunk a third finger into him. Wukong buckled and keened.
Macaque licked one last stripe at his dick and let go, leaving it leaking and rock hard and desperate. Slowly, he rose to his knees. It was awkward, with him still pistoning three fingers in and out of Wukong’s ass, but he made it work somehow as he palmed the back of Wukong’s hand and pulled him down to kiss. He tasted like Wukong.
Wukong could feel his cock twitch for more.
Macaque pulled away. His gaze was intense, and for a moment Wukong wanted to ask why, but then his fingers found a particular spot in Wukong and they probed.
Wukong would deny that he screamed, but it was clear that Macaque heard him loud and clear. His smile was satisfied and proud. A tiny part of Wukong wanted to whack him for it. The rest just wanted to melt into Macaque’s touch and see if he could pull him apart and put him back together, throwing away the yawning void and the hunger and the useless parts that only seemed to make the people around him suffer.
Still teasing at Wukong’s prostate, Macaque shifted. “I’m going to give everything to you,” he whispered, breath tickling at Wukong’s ear and making him shiver. “I can only hope that you will take it all.”
His brain was starting to get scrambled at this point. His dick was so uncomfortably hard but without more stimulation it didn’t feel like he could come. “Macaque,” he moaned, because that was all he could do at this point.
Another kiss, this time at the edge of his lips. “Take it,” he said. “It’s all yours.”
The fingers pulled away. Before Wukong could whine at the loss, he felt the blunt of Macaque’s cock against his entrance.
Hungry, hungry, greedy. He ground down, and Macaque met him halfway, pushing in. He wailed at the feeling of finally, finally being full, and his dick twitched hungrily as precum dribbled down the tip.
“Oh,” Macaque breathed, sounding just about as hungry as Wukong was. “You’re taking it so well.”
“Move,” Wukong begged. “Move, please, please, Macaque – “
Macaque didn’t need to be told twice. Hungry hands pulled at Wukong and seated him steadily upon Macaque’s lap, and the angle pushed the cock inside of him even deeper. Wukong wrapped his arms around Macaque’s frame and buried his face into Macaque’s shoulder and sobbed with need, grinding up and down as best as he could but finding his legs already weak.
Macaque’s hip snapped up. The cock punched deeper inside. Wukong wailed again.
“That’s it,” Macaque gasped. “Take it all, Wukong. It’s all yours.” Another snap of the hip. His cock pulled out and drilled in. It sent fireworks bursting in Wukong’s vision.
Too much, too much, and he was being so loud. He bit into Macaque’s shoulder in hope of silencing himself, drawing blood and tasting iron upon his tongue.
Macaque’s movements stuttered immediately. “Ow. Hey, do me a favor and let go?”
Wukong could feel himself flushing in embarrassment. “’m sorry,” he said, letting go. He licked the wound, hoping to wash the blood away and soothe the pain. “I was being loud. Sorry.”
Macaque sighed. He ground lazily, swirling Wukong’s insides as he nuzzled in. “Why are you sorry?” he asked. “I’m giving you everything. Take it however you like. Be as loud as you want. I like listening to you.”
Wukong hummed and mouthed at the wound. “I hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m ruining this.”
“And I told you that I’d be happy to be ruined if it’s you,” Macaque started to pick up his pace again. “Bite me again as much as you want. Make me bleed. It’s okay. I’ll learn to love it.”
Just for that alone, Wukong swore to never draw blood again. Instead, as Macaque’s cock drilled deeper into him, he gasped and moaned and keened as he nipped and sucked marks into Macaque’s skin. Soon, the pleasure started to overwhelm him enough that he gave up sucking marks and simply moaned instead.
“Mac – Macaque,” he gasped. “I’m close.”
“I am, too,” Macaque hissed through gritted teeth.
“I can’t – it’s not enough,” Wukong moaned. He gripped Macaque’s neck tighter. He felt like he would fall if he let go. “Can you – c-can you – “
It was like Macaque could read his mind. Rough hand pawed at his dick and grabbed it – gentle, gentle, and how Wukong could weep at how gently Macaque was treating him. Like work of art. Like a gemstone. Like precious treasure to be coveted. And then Macaque began to pump, and all thoughts fled his brain.
Close, close, close. They chased their release, bucking and pumping and gasping each other’s musk. And then Macaque’s movements stuttered again, but Wukong could tell it was in desperation and not in pain.
“I’m gonna cum,” Macaque panted. “Do I – “
“Inside,” Wukong gasped. “Inside, please.”
It was all it took. Macaque tensed and shuddered and groaned loudly, and Wukong could feel warmth spilling into him. It triggered his own release and he opened his mouth in a silent scream, spine arching, spurting his spend into what little space remained between him and Macaque, painting their stomachs white.
They both slumped when the wave passed, melting into each other and keeping in position somehow, held by nothing but their own weight and the delicate way their limbs tangled together.
Slowly, Macaque pulled away. Wukong immediately let out a chirp in distress – and he would deny that in court – and Macaque sighed and pushed himself back in and carefully laid Wukong down, lying down by his side. Wukong wrapped his arms and legs around him and hummed in satisfaction when he hugged back.
“We’re dirty. I just want to clean us up,” Macaque said.
Wukong shook his head. “Stay. Stay inside.”
“Okay,” Macaque whispered.
A moment passed in silence. Then Wukong tightened his grip and spoke up, “You said you’d give me all of you.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“I’m a wreck, Macaque,” Wukong said, burying his face deeper into Macaque’s shoulder. “I have baggage. It’ll be too heavy for you to carry.”
“You’re underestimating me,” Macaque snorted. “I know you’re a wreck, but I want you anyway. And everyone has baggage. You’re not special on that front.”
Wukong sighed. His breath trembled with something that threatened to burst in his chest. “You’re a fool if you want someone as broken as me.”
Macaque pulled at him so he could look Wukong in the eyes. His gaze seemed to burn. “And you’re a fool if you believe you’re so broken you’re unlovable,” he said. “There’s nothing in you that can’t be put back together. We’re all broken in some ways. We’ve lived too long not to be.”
“And you want me anyway?” Wukong whispered.
Macaque lifted his chin up with a gentle finger and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “I said I’d give you all of me. I’m not backing up on my own words.” He smiled. “I can only hope you’ll be willing to give me everything in return, broken parts and all.” He caressed Wukong’s cheek and Wukong thought he could break apart even further with how gentle he was being.
He chased it anyway, nuzzling into the warm hand and welcoming the cracks it might create. “You’re too precious for me to give so many broken pieces.”
“Not so precious that I would refuse to help you put yourself back together,” Macaque argued.
And. And.
It was greedy of him. It was unfair for Macaque. But the yawning void was finally held back at bay and Macaque was the one managing to keep it back. And he was so tired of it.
He let out a shuddered breath. “Will you, then? Help me?”
“I will.”
“Then help me,” Wukong sighed, taking Macaque’s hand to plant a kiss around his knuckles. “Help me, and you can have me once I’m together enough not to be called broken.”
Macaque pulled and planted his own kiss in Wukong’s knuckles in return. “Of course.”