Archive of Our Own ^beta

Atop the mountain of a lonely king, a corpse of a shadow lies in waiting, for what? For the king to remember him, and hold him in his arms once again, or for the king to pummel his head to the floor, striking him with the cudgel of that god-forsaken staff. The shadow lies in wait, wondering if the king would notice if he’s here, or if the king would leave him to rot in the shadows.

When he quickly dodges a plate that comes his way, he assumes it’s the first. 

Macaque cackles as the king stares him down, “And here I thought that circlet would’ve something for your temper.” Macaque walks closer to Wukong, watching as the man tense up more.

”Get out of my house.” Wukong growls as he backs himself into a wall. The warrior he used to know is dead, the one who’d do anything for him, the one who fought tooth and nail for him, the one that left him and the one he killed in cold blood, with no hesitation, with no guilt. He had it coming, he had it coming for years. 

Macaque gives the king an unimpressed glance, and continues to gallivant around the mountain like he lived there, like it was a home for him, Macaque will never have a home again. He’s nothing but a wandering shadow, not a warrior, not Liu er Mihou, and not his friend. 

Maybe in a life from centuries ago, it was, but it sure as hell isn’t now. 

And of course, Macaque gets in a fighting stance, ready to kill him, or hurt him. A shadow can’t live without its wielder, and Macaque wouldn’t be able to live with Wukong. Macaque pulls out his staff from a stray shadow portal, and the all too familiar game plays on, like it always does.

Wukong pulls out his staff from his ear, and swiftly moves to corner Macaque, before the shadow jumps into a portal and subsequently pins him down, Wukong thrashes in his grip, he could easily push the shadow off him, he could easily kill the shadow atop of him. Yet he hasn’t, he can’t, he’s supposed to be a god, yet he cares for this measly creature, one he should hate, and kill again without a second thought. 

Macaque glares down at Wukong, “I’d assume you want something, considering you haven’t ripped my other eye off.” Macaque bites out that last part with a bitter note to it.

Wukong drags the shadow into a rough kiss, pulling him by the hair and beckoning him to slip his tongue in, to lose himself like how Macaque forces him to lose every bit of sense when he’s around him, like how he can feel himself lose all tension in his body when Macaque is on top of him, and how he doesn’t resist when Macaque pulls off his armor.

Something about the way Macaque has to take off every bit of armor before he could move onto his clothes, something about the way the armor twists him into a respectable god, not just Wukong, but Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. 

To him, that was power. 

Macaque scowls as the King looks at him with approval, as if he wasn’t a warrior, but just a loyal subject. As if he didn’t do everything for Wukong. As if Macaque still craves that approval from Wukong, he doesn’t, he never will, not again. He couldn’t care less about what Wukong thought of him, he’d rather Wukong look at him in rage than with those adoring eyes. He can’t go back to tha, he doesn’t want to, he— 

Macaque continued his actions, despite his inwards protest, despite how seeing the king in high regard twisted his stomach into a knot, he kept going. Meanwhile, the king was oblivious to his inner turmoil, and allowed himself to be worshipped by the shadow, it can almost bring him back to a simple time, well before the shadows eye was taken from him, before Wukong’s eyes were stained red, and before the brotherhood set its roots within the mountain. When Macaque would view Wukong as a divine figure, one that Macaque would view with respect.

Wukong will never hold that power over Macaque again.

Macaque continued stripping the king of his undergarments, until he was completely bare. Wukong moved to remove Macaque of his shirt, eyes focused on the plump of his chest, Wukong moves to feel the skin under his palm, but his hand is quickly slapped away from the shadow, who does nothing but glare at him. 

Macaque removes his pants, and gives Wukong the view of the soft flesh. Wukong knows better than to move to touch it, and allows himself to be worshipped. The shadow then creates a makeshift cock out of shadows, though his needy sex is still visible. Wukong wants nothing more but to reach out and touch it, but he knows better.

Macaque notices Wukong’s desire, and scoffs. “You don’t have to be so obvious.” Macaque adjusts the shadows to fit properly onto him. 

“With you? It’s hard not to.” Wukong laughs, a hearty sound, one Macaque can’t bear to listen to any longer.

Macaque quickly searches for the bottle, and slicks up his fingers, gently, he slides one finger in, studying Wukong’s expression as he does so. Macaque then decides that it would be right to add another, he scissors the two fingers, again, listening intently to the groans and grumbles of Wukong.

And once Macaque adds a third finger, he deems the King ready for the shadow strap. Macaque looks towards Wukong, waiting for approval, and Wukong gives a silent nod, and that’s all he needs. Macaque slowly enters the king, and he thinks he could die happily right there. 

But of course, his task isn’t finished, Wukong seems to still be adjusting to the intrusion. Macaque moves his hand onto Wukong’s length, which lets out a yelp from the king, Macaque strokes it up and down, until the king get’s used to the intrusion. 

Macaque starts to move, not ignoring the moan that spills out of Wukong, he starts at a gentle pace, even though he should make it hurt, he can’t stop thinking about the past they had. This isn’t the Wukong that would take him with open arms, this is the king that killed him in cold blood, this is his murder.

And almost immediately, the king starts thrashing, a tell tale sign he’s about to finish. Macaque starts hitting his prostrate, and strokes his length. Wukong’s claws dig deeper into Macaque’s hips, and god, the pain just furthers his desire to tip Wukong over that edge.

Eventually, white stains the shadow’s hands, and he lets go. And like clockwork, Macaque pulls out, not missing the groan from Wukong. As Macaque further pulls away, Wukong keeps his hand on the shadows wrist. 

“Aren’t you going to—“ 

Macaque scowls, “I’ll be fine.” Macaque further tugs away, but Wukong’s grip is unyielding.

Wukong sighs, and he looks up at Macaque. “Just stay, for once.” The king looks at him with those eyes from centuries ago, when he convinced Macaque to go through that wretched plan against the celestial realm. Yet, even after all those centuries, it still worked.

Macaque settles next to Wukong, and the King basically collapses onto his chest, and of course, he notices the shameless touches, and whacks Wukong’s hands away again. Macaque sighs, as the moonlight settles onto the both of them, he can’t bear to stare at the poor excuse of the King on top of him. 

In the end, they’re both the still same fools.