The Art of Patience: Beach Date Short
(A request for something Wukong sent to Macaque turned into the two matching at a beach day 😆)
Macaque’s outfit from @ogvioletjedisylveon
Wukong’s outfit from @kodee-22-blog
I wrote a beach day short too~
Intended to be short… but you know me. It never turns out short xD
Wukong shifted uncomfortably, his toes curling into the warm sand beneath him. A deep scowl tugged at his face as he yanked at the straps digging into his shoulders, clearly offended by every second he spent wearing the thing. His hands swept down his sides in a futile attempt to smooth the swimsuit flat, only for his fingers to brush against layers of frills and obnoxiously bright pink fabric.
There was nothing remotely intimidating about this look. No fearsome Great Sage, no legendary warrior—just ruffles, pastel colors, and enough exposed skin to make him want to crawl into the ocean and stay there. If anyone saw him like this, his reputation would never recover.
It clung shamelessly to his hips, the fabric hugging every curve while spirals of frills and strings of pearls curled around his thighs and waist. The whole thing gave him the appearance of some enchanting sea maiden dragged straight from an old legend; soft, alluring, and entirely too pretty for his own comfort. The sort of thing meant to lure demons into the ocean depths rather than fight them. Absolutely mortifying.
Why had he agreed to this again? Right. Mihou.
It had been that stupid, devastating puppy-eyed look paired with easy promises murmured against his ear. He shuddered; a date, kisses, time together, all if Wukong just wore the outfit for a little while. And like an idiot, he’d folded instantly beneath the affection.
It had sounded far easier before he was actually wearing the thing.
Now, standing there with pearls brushing his skin and pink ruffles swaying around his legs every time he moved, Wukong was beginning to realize this might have been one of the greatest mistakes of his immortal life.
Ready to turn around and storm straight back home, as he could apologize to Mihou later, Wukong had barely shifted his footing before he heard it.
A sharp inhale, then a gasp so openly delighted it sent heat rushing violently into his face; Mihou had spotted him. And judging by the stunned silence that followed, he liked what he saw far more than Wukong was prepared to handle. Wukong could practically feel the attention sliding over him, heavy and intent, like warm hands tracing every exposed inch of skin. It hit him in waves, Mihou’s attraction so immediate and overwhelming it made Wukong’s stomach twist.
Oh, this had been a horrible idea.
Wukong couldn’t even bring himself to turn around. His arm lifted instinctively across his chest in a weak attempt to shield himself, shoulders curling inward despite the way the swimsuit left very little to hide. The pearls at his hips clinked with the movement, and he heard Mihou suck in another breath at the sight.
That somehow made it worse.
“I swear if anyone catches me looking like this, Mihou—” Wukong snapped, the threat losing all its bite the moment it reached him.
He heard Mihou step closer behind him, slow and unhurried. The sound alone made Wukong tense. Hands hovered near his hips, just shy of touching, like Mihou was restraining himself from grabbing hold completely. The pause somehow felt worse than if he had simply done it.
Mihou murmured, voice low with poorly concealed delight, “It’s cute that you think I’d let anyone but me see you like this.” His breath ghosted against Wukong’s ear, warm enough to send a sharp shiver down his spine.
Wukong’s cheeks burned hot. He hated how easily Mihou could do this to him. How a single sentence, spoken in that tone, could make his pulse stumble and his thoughts melt into static. His fingers curled uselessly against his chest as he struggled to hold onto even a shred of dignity beneath the weight of Mihou’s attention.
“Well… I wore it. Deal’s done, so I’m going to go change now,” Wukong muttered quickly, already trying to step away before his courage failed completely. The attempt lasted all of two seconds. He jolted when Mihou’s hands finally settled against his bare skin. Warm fingers slipped beneath the strings tied at his hips, hooking there lazily against the swimsuit as though testing how easily they could pull him back. The grip tightened just enough to stop the Sun Monkey from escaping, palms squeezing against his waist possessively while keeping him exactly where he was.
Since coming home, physical affection between them had been rare, careful, hesitant things that never lingered long enough to settle beneath his skin. A brush of hands. Fingers briefly bumping together. Little scraps of contact that could still be dismissed if either of them lost their nerve.
Mihou’s hands rested firmly at his hips, warm against bare skin, fingertips occasionally grazing the edge of his stomach whenever he shifted. The touch wasn’t rough or demanding. If anything, that made it worse, as it was gentle.
Tenderness had always been harder for him to endure than violence ever was. He knew how to fight, how to bite back, how to withstand pain until it became meaningless. But soft touches? The kind that said I want to hold you rather than I want something from you? How could he survive that?
“So soon?” Mihou asked, his voice threaded with amused insistence. Wukong could hear the smile in it. “And here I went through all the trouble of matching.”
That made Wukong freeze. His ears twitched as he turned his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, only to immediately regret it. Mihou looked entirely too pleased with himself, dark eyes heavy with open admiration as they dragged slowly over Wukong again.
The realization that Mihou had actually coordinated an outfit with him sent another wave of heat crashing into his face.
Mihou had, in fact, matched him.
A wide black sunhat rested atop his head, shadowing the pleased curve of his smile while his hair spilled freely down his back in dark waves that brushed against his hips. The swimsuit itself was deep black threaded with rich purple accents and frilled fabric curling around his waist and thighs in a way that somehow looked both elegant and dangerous on him.
Wukong stared openly. Then his gaze caught on the star-shaped opening over Mihou’s chest and his breath faltered entirely. He recognized that design immediately.
He had bought that outfit for him years ago.
Back during the worst of his crusade, where Mihou was ever on his mind, but blood forever stained his hands. He remembered seeing it and thinking of Mihou instantly. Remembered pretending he hadn’t spent far too long deciding between colors before finally choosing the black and purple because it would look beautiful against dark fur and moonlit skin.
And Mihou had kept it. More than that, he wore it now, for him.
Wukong suddenly couldn’t seem to remember how words worked. His throat felt tight, tongue useless as his eyes remained fixed helplessly on him. All coherent thought dissolved beneath the realization and the devastating sight of Mihou standing there in something Wukong had once picked out with careful hands and a quietly aching heart.
“Would be a shame not to at least take a stroll together,” Mihou murmured softly. His hands drifted upward again, as though testing how much Wukong would allow. Fingers brushed over the seashell top stretched across his chest, daring enough to briefly cup him there before gliding back down to rest at his hips once more.
Wukong sucked in a sharp breath, his body arching instinctively beneath the contact before he could stop himself. The reaction betrayed him instantly.
Mihou stilled for half a second, clearly feeling it, and Wukong, mortifyingly, could feel the pleased little smile that spread across his face without even needing to look at him. “The shells really show you off,” Mihou murmured, voice thick with satisfaction.
Wukong immediately reached back, fingers snagging sharply against Mihou’s ear in retaliation. “R-Release me!” he sputtered, face burning so hot he thought he might actually die from embarrassment this time. His tail lashed violently behind him while Mihou only laughed softly against his shoulder, entirely too pleased with himself, wobbling away when his ears were tugged enough.
“Alright, alright~” Mihou laughed softly, finally relenting. “Hand holding then.” He stepped around enough to offer his hand properly, grin warm and impossibly smug all at once.
Wukong immediately narrowed his eyes at it as though Mihou had personally insulted him. His face still burned bright red, ears twitching with lingering embarrassment while he stubbornly avoided looking directly at him.
Then Mihou’s smile softened. No longer teasing, just hopeful. Eager in a way that made something ache quietly in Wukong’s chest. His Moon looked genuinely happy just to be here with him, to walk beside him, to hold his hand, to have this little date at all.
And really, how was Wukong supposed to say no to a mate so utterly beautiful and happy?
His glare weakened first. Then, after a long moment of grumbling beneath his breath, Wukong slowly slipped his hand into Mihou’s waiting one. Mihou’s fingers curled around his instantly. Together, they started down the shoreline, waves rolling softly beside them while pearls and frills swayed in the ocean breeze.