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jedishampooTitle: Sweat and Blood and Sweat
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jedishampoo
Pairing(s): Gojyo x Sanzo (Saiyuki)
Rating: NC-l7 – Slash - Not Safe For Work!
Length: about 3500 words
Notes: PWPish. A teensy bit darker than I usually go. Quickie written for a prompt at the Saiyuki Anonymous Kink Meme atvom_marlowe’s lj. Requestor asked for: “Gojyo/Sanzo +youkai lust spell and a bondage fetish; no NC please, but you can get as close as you want to that line.” Anonymous thread is here. I fear I’m not very good at anonymous. Thanks to my beta, sharpeslass, who’s actually been watching some Saiyuki with me.
“You’re very pretty,” the boss-lady youkai told Gojyo, swiping a pink tongue across her full, purple lips. “I like you.”
“‘Course you do,” Gojyo told her, and smirked. He liked her, too. Fighting was a substitute for fucking, anymore, on this trip, ‘cause he sure wasn’t getting laid. It was the only thing that really made the cool sweat break over heat-exercised skin, to trickle out of all the exciting places on his body: the nape of his neck, the insides of the elbows, the small of his back. To send the adrenaline and testosterone shooting into his bloodstream, to reach that perfect high. Winning was the climax, what earned the smoke afterwards.
It had been especially fun fighting this chick-- she was hotter than hell. Tough, too.
The closer they got to India, the weirder and more powerful the youkai became: the big guns were protecting the home-front. Powerful like that woman last week, the one who’d been able to reattach body parts to youkai that Gojyo had spent a good half-hour slicing to pieces. And Gojyo couldn’t forget the guy a few days ago, the one who’d given them all that nasty rash-- Hakkai’d had a hell of a time curing them of that shit.
This chick-- the one standing in front of Gojyo grinning and spattered in blood and still alive, unlike most of her buddies-- obviously, her secret power was remaining upright while sporting the most ginormous pair of hooters Gojyo’d ever seen on a female of any species.
Seriously. Her tits were huge. The rest of her wasn’t bad, either. Gojyo could appreciate that, even if he was planning to kick her ass all the same. It’d be a shame, he thought, to hack those babies up, though-- nice and round and smooth, they weren’t droopy at all. It looked like she worked out her pecs or something. The sweat, the twitching in his limbs, the throb in his chest and between his legs, made him feel alive. This was the foreplay.
“Ha! Now you dieee!” she screamed, predictably, opening her mouth wide, and Gojyo saw something fly out of her hand. He whipped up the shaku-jou just in time to deflect it.
“Fuck!” he said, and squeezed his fingers about the haft more tightly to knock away a couple more of whatever she was throwing at him-- knives, or something. Apparently, her real power was distracting pervs like himself, killing ‘em while they were gaping at the chasm between her mountainous boobs. Hell, even Goku was staring, getting off on watching the fight.
“Put your eyes back into your head, idiot,” a voice growled. A flash of red and white intruded upon Gojyo’s lurid near-death sexual fantasy-- the gore-stained sleeve of Sanzo’s robe-- and then the glint of twilight off Sanzo’s gun in his hand, and then Sanzo’s back as he stepped in front of Gojyo and took aim.
“Jealous much? I was doin’ fine,” Gojyo retorted, but Sanzo had already pulled the trigger and a short scream tore from the youkai’s lips as her heart exploded out through her back.
She fell on top of the other bodies with her mouth still open, purple lips starting to look more morbid now than alluring. No more sound came out from them, but something came out. A cloud, black, like smoke but not. Gojyo could see particles, not like bugs, just all powdery like back in the day when they’d kill some assassin or another and they’d sort of disintegrate.
“Sanzo! Watch out!” came Hakkai’s voice. A blast of half-visible qigong energy knocked some of the cloud-black-stuff aside, but too late to keep the brunt from slamming into Sanzo full-on. Goku got hit by it a little, and Gojyo, hardly any because Sanzo had been there blocking him from the chick like always, except in this case Gojyo figured he oughta thank the bastard pretty monk.
“Sanzo,” Gojyo said, ‘cause the bastard pretty monk fell to his knees, coughing.
“Shit, shit, shit!” That was Goku, wiping a hand across his face, smearing blood and mud over his nose. “I feel all weird.”
“Weird, how?” Hakkai asked, joining them, but Goku waved his arms to keep Hakkai away.
“I dunno. That woman... she was... she had really big--” He stopped talking, lowered his head and started running.
Hakkai tried to grab Goku and missed. Goku disappeared into the dark woods surrounding the little clearing full of carnage.
“Come back! It will be all right, I-- Oh, no.” Hakkai looked at Gojyo. “Kill the rest. Check on Sanzo. I’ll be right back. I think I know what hit him.”
“Well, you could tell me what it was, first!” Gojyo yelled, but Hakkai had disappeared, too. There was only the shivering of shadowy branches to show where he’d torn through the line of trees and undergrowth.
Gojyo gave the shaku-jou a balletic twirl and whacked off the heads of the last couple of attackers. He was feeling a little weird himself. He couldn’t quite say what the feeling was. Tingly? A little floaty, maybe. He twirled the shaku-jou once more for good effect, then looked down at Sanzo. Except, Sanzo was standing again.
“Knew a little smoke wouldn’t kill ya,” Gojyo said. Then he stopped talking, because Sanzo was looking at him. Not just looking but staring.
Sanzo, golden hair and white robes splattered with blood, staring at Gojyo over a mound of dead youkai, their blood in his hair and on his robes, blood making the grass slick and seeping into the ground, making the mud. And Sanzo looking at him like that. Eyes alight, a half-mad grin on his fine features. His fingers trembled and clenched and unclenched over and over into not-quite-fists, like with suppressed... something.
“Sanzo?”
“She liked you, huh?” Sanzo muttered-- purred?-- from between clenched teeth. “Did you like her, too? Were you having fun?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Gojyo said, and fought back a grin. Arguing with Sanzo was like fucking, too. Gojyo usually lost, but the adrenaline rush was fantastic.
“Heh.” Sanzo’s hands stopped fidgeting and he tucked the gun away to wherever he put it when he wasn’t using it.
Gojyo stared at him, riled. “Well? Are you gonna tell me?”
“Idiot. Shit,” Sanzo said, and rubbed at his own silk-covered forearms a few times. Then he barked out a short, strained kind of laugh, and started fiddling with the tie to his robes.
“What?” Gojyo repeated, too struck stupid at the moment to think of anything better to say, because Sanzo was probably not right in the head after being hit with that black-cloud shit. Goku had definitely been weird, and he’d only gotten half what Sanzo had got. Gojyo could only watch as Sanzo untied his sash and slithered it off his waist, then wound it a couple of times around his hands. He pulled it taut with his fingers a couple times more, like he was playing with it, or testing its strength.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sanzo finally said, and stared at his own black-wrapped hands, coming together, then snapping apart, joined by the silk.
“Whatever. Have it your way, shithead monk,” Gojyo mumbled, and turned away, disappearing the shaku-jou. He still felt weird too, sorta tense and unfinished. Sanzo had stolen two fights from him in the last few minutes.
When he stuck a hand into the pocket of his jacket to find his smokes, the grip on his wrist from behind took him by surprise. Before he could wrench his hand free, strong fingers had grabbed his other wrist, and something slammed into his back like a club and sent him face-first into the bloody, muddy grass. The air was knocked out of him for a moment and he hated to inhale that shit but he had to breathe, dammit. There was something about those fingers…
“What the fuck? Sanzo? A little help here!”
“Behind you, asshole,” came Sanzo’s voice from right next to his ear, sounding harsh-breathy and deeper than usual. Gojyo felt the breath and panicked. He tried to fight his hands free but while he’d been trying to catch his breath they had been bound by something, and he couldn’t pry them apart.
That black stuff... was it some sort of mind control? Whatever it had been, this couldn’t be happening, he thought. He was not going to be killed by Sanzo under the influence of a youkai-something. Gojyo tried to lift his face from the disgusting muck covering the ground. “Hakkai! Hakkai, you there, man? Goku?”
“Shut up,” Sanzo-sort-of’s voice said again. Something pushed at his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back atop of his own gathered hands, and then the breath was knocked out of him again as Sanzo sat on his thighs, straddling him, and pinned his shoulders to the ground. Sanzo was thin but he was deceptively strong for his size.
“What, afraid to fight me with my hands free?” Gojyo said, when he could breathe again.
“Who says I’m fighting?” Sanzo said. His voice was still strange, and the look on his face made Gojyo feel breathless, angry and a little afraid, all at the same time. He discovered that this particular concoction of emotions felt pretty good. Hell, it felt fucking amazing. He was gonna get his fight after all. Or something.
“What are you doing, then?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like me, too?”
“What?” Gojyo repeated, like some sort of idiot. He’d meant to say, hell, no. Sanzo shifted his ass on Gojyo’s thighs, and-- oh, shit. Yeah, he liked Sanzo. He always sorta had. Pretty, untouchable. Pretty damned untouchable, when it came down to it. But it wasn’t the kind of thing he would admit aloud, especially to an asshole like Sanzo. Still, he couldn’t lie, he was totally hard through his clothes right where their groins met. Or was that really him? “Uh.”
“If you can’t say anything interesting, then shut up,” Sanzo said, and shoved a hand over Gojyo’s mouth. The ring that held his arm-warmers on was cool and slippery against Gojyo’s lips. And fuck, Sanzo’s other hand was ripping at Gojyo’s shirt, one of the nice ones with the buttons, and he wondered why the hell he’d worn that one on this day, of all days. Then Gojyo felt the silk and Sanzo’s warm, gun-callused fingers and the cool ring sliding hard friction against the skin of his breastbone. The hand on his mouth slid down to curl fingers into his hair, yanking it at the roots. The pain of it felt embarrassingly awesome, like all that sensation was traveling straight down to his dick.
Gojyo mentally revised his estimate of what had been in that black cloud. It sure explained why he’d felt so sexy fighting that chick, anyway.
“Man, Sanzo’s gonna be pissed when he gets his body back,” Gojyo said to Sanzo-sort-of above him. Still, he arched into the touch. This couldn’t be happening. Oh please, god, let this be happening.
“Who says I’m not Sanzo?” Sanzo said. His sticky golden hair fell over his eyes as he leaned forward, and his mouth was a thin line like a cruel smirk. One hand still slithered over Gojyo’s shoulders, into his armpits. His skin buzzed wherever Sanzo touched it. And hell, no-- Sanzo was grinding his crotch against Gojyo’s, and Gojyo definitely wasn’t the only one who was hard here. He wasn’t being killed, he was being humped by a gorgeous blond monk under the control of a youkai lust-spell-thingy. It wasn’t exactly a dream come true, but close enough.
Gojyo moaned a little. “How much of that shit did you breathe, anyway?”
“Enough.” Sanzo rocked back and sat on Gojyo’s thighs again, a hand shoving into his open robe and under the waistband of his own jeans, thumbing open the button. At some point he’d kicked off his boots and he half-rolled onto Gojyo’s legs and slithered out of his denim.
“Shit,” Gojyo said, and half-heartedly tried to shift his hips, to roll Sanzo off, but he couldn’t stop staring at Sanzo’s erect cock as he leaned forward again; there it was, hovering over Gojyo’s bare stomach in the fading light, and there was Sanzo’s face, leaning down to fasten his lips somewhere on Gojyo’s neck, below his chin. The warm, slippery tongue was a serious jolt to his already-weak resolve. Blood-sticky blond hair flopped forward and tickled Gojyo’s lips, and unconsciously he breathed it in, the scent and taste of humanity and the outdoors, life and death.
Sanzo shoved a hand down between them and opened Gojyo’s jeans, and Gojyo rocked again but it only pushed the heel of Sanzo’s hand into his own straining cock. The contact made him gasp and quit his struggling. Sanzo made short work of the fly and oh, holy hell, that silk and that metal ring against’s Gojyo’s cock, that shit was so hot, and the grip, hard, unyielding, perfect. Strong interest skyrocketed into full-on lust.
“Hmph,” Sanzo whispered into Gojyo’s skin, jerking at his oversensitized dick a few times. “Tell me you don’t want it.”
“Would you stop if I did?” Gojyo mumbled.
“Tell me. Do you want me to?” Sanzo’s tongue swiped on Gojyo’s throat with every word.
“Uh.”
“You’re too easy,” Sanzo said, yanking Gojyo’s jeans halfway down his thighs. Smashed between his own back and the ground, Gojyo’s hands were half-consciously helping.
“Hell, I got hit by that shit, too,” Gojyo groaned, rationalizing.
“Tch,” Sanzo said, a non-answer. He settled his bare ass against the tops of Gojyo’s thighs, sliding back and forth fractionally, humming a low moan of his own. A small worry began to penetrate Gojyo’s brain, fighting the haze of Sanzo-touching-lust. Was he gonna get fucked? He wasn’t sure he liked that thought too well.
“So, you must like me too, huh?” Gojyo mumbled, trying to stall the whatever, though maybe he wanted an answer as well. Gojyo didn’t want to push his luck-- his hands were still tied and Sanzo still had his gun somewhere.
“You’re always touching me...” Sanzo said, reaching into his robes, and Gojyo thought, this is it, I’m gonna get a bullet in my head while I’ve got a dick in my ass...not the way I wanted to go.
“Sorry...” he whispered.
“No, you’re not,” Sanzo said, and brought out a little tube of... something. Sanzo flipped the cap open and Gojyo caught the scent of flowers.
Gojyo was startled into further aroused panic. At least Sanzo was thinking ahead, but shit. Sleeping with females for half his life had taught him something. “What the hell--? Hand lotion? You can’t use that! Don’t put that in me, you shitty monk! You--”
“Shut up,” Sanzo said, and Gojyo shut up because Sanzo had taken hold of his dick again, was slathering the stuff onto it already, and it was all cold and burned at the same time and Gojyo’s mind blanked. Screw what he’d learned: Sanzo could fuck him if he wanted, Sanzo could do anything and Gojyo would beg for it. Because touch was what sent the tingly-lust-high over the edge, the particular evil of this little youkai-magic: every contact made it worse instead of better, and every touch was impossible to resist. Gojyo dimly wondered if Sanzo knew it, was feeling it, too.
He must have, because he kept running his hand over Gojyo’s body, touching everywhere he could, fingers digging into his skin, pushing down into his chest as he rocked forward on his knees. Gojyo wondered how was he gonna get fucked, ‘cause his jeans were still halfway down his thighs. Then he figured it out, because Sanzo used his grip on Gojyo’s cock to ram it up his ass, and it only squeezed the burning along Gojyo’s dick into the skin that covered the throb, the throb that was Gojyo’s entire being at the moment. He wasn’t being fucked, he was inside Sanzo and the world was painful and tight and amazing and terrifying, all at the same time.
“Ah!” Sanzo cried out a little, and hovered, halfway-impaled on Gojyo for a moment, fingers digging into Gojyo’s shoulders. “Ah!”
When Gojyo could think for a second, he looked up. Sanzo’s face was in shadow. The last bit of sunlight caught only the top of his head, turning it into a red-gold halo, and he hung there, his breathing harsh, deep gasps of air.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Gojyo whispered, but inwardly he was begging Sanzo to move, move, move, now dammit, motherfucker. And then his hips took up the chant, arching to get deeper, succeeding bit by bit, centimeter by centimeter of aching skin.
“No,” Sanzo said, and he must have been answering Gojyo’s question because he began moving, too. He shoved his palm over Gojyo’s mouth again, and Gojyo breathed silk and callused skin and moved, hips jerky as they tried to force him deeper into Sanzo. Finally the two of them found a sort-of-rhythm, a few minutes of perfect, painful sensation, not talking, only breathing, but the tension filling every pore of Gojyo’s body from scalp to toes only built, and didn’t go anywhere.
Sanzo was slamming his ass against Gojyo’s thighs, shoving Gojyo’s joined hands underneath him over and over into the gooey ground, fingers on his face pressing the back of his head down, the other hand still touching Gojyo everywhere he could reach. Sanzo was everywhere, he was everything, and all Gojyo could think was that no matter how hot and smooth and tight it was, it wasn’t going to work, it was just torture.
“Mmph mmph,” Gojyo said against the fabric and callused skin muffling his mouth. He shook his head, and Sanzo’s hand slipped free to dig into the ground next to Gojyo’s ear. The rest of Gojyo’s body never stopped moving, but he had to do something, dammit. He needed to be touching in return. It had been too long and now it was too intense-- he had to do something. “Sanzo. Huh. Please. Untie my hands.”
Sweat was dripping from Sanzo’s face, pooling onto Gojyo’s chest. His thighs on the outside of Gojyo’s burned them raw with it. “No... No.”
“Please, man.” Gojyo would beg, would do anything to touch, to finish it. “I’m-- I’m not-- going anywhere. I can help... I can make it better. I swear.”
Sanzo groaned, seemed to consider it. Gojyo took the initiative, pushed down on his fisted hands behind him and rolled them both to the side. Sanzo’s thighs locked around Gojyo’s hips at the near-break in the rhythm, and Gojyo felt his fingers fumbling at the ties. Then Gojyo’s hands were half-numb but free, and when Sanzo rolled Gojyo onto his back again he could grab Sanzo’s ass and pull forward with everything he had, and Sanzo’s breaths were all cries now and the sound was almost as devastatingly exciting as the touch. He wished he could see Sanzo’s slender, muscled body because he could only feel it, wished it wasn’t so dark and he could see Sanzo’s dick again, where he felt it sliding against his own belly.
“That’s it, Sanzo. Come on,” he encouraged, driving himself deeper, pushing burning skin into impossible heat. It had to go somewhere... it couldn’t last forever...it was working, Gojyo was making it happen...
Sanzo keened at him and started to shiver and came, finally, and Gojyo gripped his ass more tightly, fingers slippery on the sweaty skin, and thank you, thank you, the aching impossible throb that was everywhere rushed to his spine, his belly, and into Sanzo.
The relief was amazing. It had never felt like that before and never would again, Gojyo was sure. It was a short dream of relief, however, and lasted only a few seconds, because he was still touching Sanzo, touching the skin, and he had to do it again, touch all of it.
Sanzo was limp and Gojyo half-slammed him into the ground, rolling on top. He’d been looking up at Sanzo before, and now was looking down and could see around them and it was dark, but he could see the glassy eyes of dead youkai and a suspicious gleam on the trampled grass; it was wet and slick. Then he was kissing Sanzo at last, tongue diving in to taste Sanzo’s answering lust, the only part of it he’d been denied before. Sanzo moan-whimpered and wound a hand into Gojyo’s hair, holding on. They were both hard again, and it was unbelievable, and wonderful.
He had to get the taste of Sanzo, the smell of Sanzo, out of his system. He’d do it again, do it all night, all week, if that’s what it took. He could never get enough. The sweat, the heat, the fighting, the fucking.
“Gojyo? Sanzo?” Hakkai’s voice, somewhere nearby, reached Gojyo’s ears but he half-ignored it, was busy breathing Sanzo. “I can’t see you, but I can hear you.”
“Go away,” Gojyo mumbled, feeling guilty but irretrievably caught in the particular evil of this little youkai-spell. It would feel good forever: that was its curse and its beauty. He’d breathed and touched Sanzo and nothing else mattered.
“It will wear off,” Hakkai said with a sigh. “Two or three-- you’ll be thankful. Goku’s asleep in Jeep. We’ll wait for you.”
“Uh, okay,” Gojyo said, kissing Sanzo.
“Shit,” Sanzo said, kissing Gojyo back.
END.
Thanks for reading! Comments, concrit, flames all appreciated and cuddled.
Author/Artist:
jedishampooPairing(s): Gojyo x Sanzo (Saiyuki)
Rating: NC-l7 – Slash - Not Safe For Work!
Length: about 3500 words
Notes: PWPish. A teensy bit darker than I usually go. Quickie written for a prompt at the Saiyuki Anonymous Kink Meme at
vom_marlowe’s lj. Requestor asked for: “Gojyo/Sanzo +youkai lust spell and a bondage fetish; no NC please, but you can get as close as you want to that line.” Anonymous thread is here. I fear I’m not very good at anonymous. Thanks to my beta, sharpeslass, who’s actually been watching some Saiyuki with me.“You’re very pretty,” the boss-lady youkai told Gojyo, swiping a pink tongue across her full, purple lips. “I like you.”
“‘Course you do,” Gojyo told her, and smirked. He liked her, too. Fighting was a substitute for fucking, anymore, on this trip, ‘cause he sure wasn’t getting laid. It was the only thing that really made the cool sweat break over heat-exercised skin, to trickle out of all the exciting places on his body: the nape of his neck, the insides of the elbows, the small of his back. To send the adrenaline and testosterone shooting into his bloodstream, to reach that perfect high. Winning was the climax, what earned the smoke afterwards.
It had been especially fun fighting this chick-- she was hotter than hell. Tough, too.
The closer they got to India, the weirder and more powerful the youkai became: the big guns were protecting the home-front. Powerful like that woman last week, the one who’d been able to reattach body parts to youkai that Gojyo had spent a good half-hour slicing to pieces. And Gojyo couldn’t forget the guy a few days ago, the one who’d given them all that nasty rash-- Hakkai’d had a hell of a time curing them of that shit.
This chick-- the one standing in front of Gojyo grinning and spattered in blood and still alive, unlike most of her buddies-- obviously, her secret power was remaining upright while sporting the most ginormous pair of hooters Gojyo’d ever seen on a female of any species.
Seriously. Her tits were huge. The rest of her wasn’t bad, either. Gojyo could appreciate that, even if he was planning to kick her ass all the same. It’d be a shame, he thought, to hack those babies up, though-- nice and round and smooth, they weren’t droopy at all. It looked like she worked out her pecs or something. The sweat, the twitching in his limbs, the throb in his chest and between his legs, made him feel alive. This was the foreplay.
“Ha! Now you dieee!” she screamed, predictably, opening her mouth wide, and Gojyo saw something fly out of her hand. He whipped up the shaku-jou just in time to deflect it.
“Fuck!” he said, and squeezed his fingers about the haft more tightly to knock away a couple more of whatever she was throwing at him-- knives, or something. Apparently, her real power was distracting pervs like himself, killing ‘em while they were gaping at the chasm between her mountainous boobs. Hell, even Goku was staring, getting off on watching the fight.
“Put your eyes back into your head, idiot,” a voice growled. A flash of red and white intruded upon Gojyo’s lurid near-death sexual fantasy-- the gore-stained sleeve of Sanzo’s robe-- and then the glint of twilight off Sanzo’s gun in his hand, and then Sanzo’s back as he stepped in front of Gojyo and took aim.
“Jealous much? I was doin’ fine,” Gojyo retorted, but Sanzo had already pulled the trigger and a short scream tore from the youkai’s lips as her heart exploded out through her back.
She fell on top of the other bodies with her mouth still open, purple lips starting to look more morbid now than alluring. No more sound came out from them, but something came out. A cloud, black, like smoke but not. Gojyo could see particles, not like bugs, just all powdery like back in the day when they’d kill some assassin or another and they’d sort of disintegrate.
“Sanzo! Watch out!” came Hakkai’s voice. A blast of half-visible qigong energy knocked some of the cloud-black-stuff aside, but too late to keep the brunt from slamming into Sanzo full-on. Goku got hit by it a little, and Gojyo, hardly any because Sanzo had been there blocking him from the chick like always, except in this case Gojyo figured he oughta thank the bastard pretty monk.
“Sanzo,” Gojyo said, ‘cause the bastard pretty monk fell to his knees, coughing.
“Shit, shit, shit!” That was Goku, wiping a hand across his face, smearing blood and mud over his nose. “I feel all weird.”
“Weird, how?” Hakkai asked, joining them, but Goku waved his arms to keep Hakkai away.
“I dunno. That woman... she was... she had really big--” He stopped talking, lowered his head and started running.
Hakkai tried to grab Goku and missed. Goku disappeared into the dark woods surrounding the little clearing full of carnage.
“Come back! It will be all right, I-- Oh, no.” Hakkai looked at Gojyo. “Kill the rest. Check on Sanzo. I’ll be right back. I think I know what hit him.”
“Well, you could tell me what it was, first!” Gojyo yelled, but Hakkai had disappeared, too. There was only the shivering of shadowy branches to show where he’d torn through the line of trees and undergrowth.
Gojyo gave the shaku-jou a balletic twirl and whacked off the heads of the last couple of attackers. He was feeling a little weird himself. He couldn’t quite say what the feeling was. Tingly? A little floaty, maybe. He twirled the shaku-jou once more for good effect, then looked down at Sanzo. Except, Sanzo was standing again.
“Knew a little smoke wouldn’t kill ya,” Gojyo said. Then he stopped talking, because Sanzo was looking at him. Not just looking but staring.
Sanzo, golden hair and white robes splattered with blood, staring at Gojyo over a mound of dead youkai, their blood in his hair and on his robes, blood making the grass slick and seeping into the ground, making the mud. And Sanzo looking at him like that. Eyes alight, a half-mad grin on his fine features. His fingers trembled and clenched and unclenched over and over into not-quite-fists, like with suppressed... something.
“Sanzo?”
“She liked you, huh?” Sanzo muttered-- purred?-- from between clenched teeth. “Did you like her, too? Were you having fun?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Gojyo said, and fought back a grin. Arguing with Sanzo was like fucking, too. Gojyo usually lost, but the adrenaline rush was fantastic.
“Heh.” Sanzo’s hands stopped fidgeting and he tucked the gun away to wherever he put it when he wasn’t using it.
Gojyo stared at him, riled. “Well? Are you gonna tell me?”
“Idiot. Shit,” Sanzo said, and rubbed at his own silk-covered forearms a few times. Then he barked out a short, strained kind of laugh, and started fiddling with the tie to his robes.
“What?” Gojyo repeated, too struck stupid at the moment to think of anything better to say, because Sanzo was probably not right in the head after being hit with that black-cloud shit. Goku had definitely been weird, and he’d only gotten half what Sanzo had got. Gojyo could only watch as Sanzo untied his sash and slithered it off his waist, then wound it a couple of times around his hands. He pulled it taut with his fingers a couple times more, like he was playing with it, or testing its strength.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sanzo finally said, and stared at his own black-wrapped hands, coming together, then snapping apart, joined by the silk.
“Whatever. Have it your way, shithead monk,” Gojyo mumbled, and turned away, disappearing the shaku-jou. He still felt weird too, sorta tense and unfinished. Sanzo had stolen two fights from him in the last few minutes.
When he stuck a hand into the pocket of his jacket to find his smokes, the grip on his wrist from behind took him by surprise. Before he could wrench his hand free, strong fingers had grabbed his other wrist, and something slammed into his back like a club and sent him face-first into the bloody, muddy grass. The air was knocked out of him for a moment and he hated to inhale that shit but he had to breathe, dammit. There was something about those fingers…
“What the fuck? Sanzo? A little help here!”
“Behind you, asshole,” came Sanzo’s voice from right next to his ear, sounding harsh-breathy and deeper than usual. Gojyo felt the breath and panicked. He tried to fight his hands free but while he’d been trying to catch his breath they had been bound by something, and he couldn’t pry them apart.
That black stuff... was it some sort of mind control? Whatever it had been, this couldn’t be happening, he thought. He was not going to be killed by Sanzo under the influence of a youkai-something. Gojyo tried to lift his face from the disgusting muck covering the ground. “Hakkai! Hakkai, you there, man? Goku?”
“Shut up,” Sanzo-sort-of’s voice said again. Something pushed at his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back atop of his own gathered hands, and then the breath was knocked out of him again as Sanzo sat on his thighs, straddling him, and pinned his shoulders to the ground. Sanzo was thin but he was deceptively strong for his size.
“What, afraid to fight me with my hands free?” Gojyo said, when he could breathe again.
“Who says I’m fighting?” Sanzo said. His voice was still strange, and the look on his face made Gojyo feel breathless, angry and a little afraid, all at the same time. He discovered that this particular concoction of emotions felt pretty good. Hell, it felt fucking amazing. He was gonna get his fight after all. Or something.
“What are you doing, then?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like me, too?”
“What?” Gojyo repeated, like some sort of idiot. He’d meant to say, hell, no. Sanzo shifted his ass on Gojyo’s thighs, and-- oh, shit. Yeah, he liked Sanzo. He always sorta had. Pretty, untouchable. Pretty damned untouchable, when it came down to it. But it wasn’t the kind of thing he would admit aloud, especially to an asshole like Sanzo. Still, he couldn’t lie, he was totally hard through his clothes right where their groins met. Or was that really him? “Uh.”
“If you can’t say anything interesting, then shut up,” Sanzo said, and shoved a hand over Gojyo’s mouth. The ring that held his arm-warmers on was cool and slippery against Gojyo’s lips. And fuck, Sanzo’s other hand was ripping at Gojyo’s shirt, one of the nice ones with the buttons, and he wondered why the hell he’d worn that one on this day, of all days. Then Gojyo felt the silk and Sanzo’s warm, gun-callused fingers and the cool ring sliding hard friction against the skin of his breastbone. The hand on his mouth slid down to curl fingers into his hair, yanking it at the roots. The pain of it felt embarrassingly awesome, like all that sensation was traveling straight down to his dick.
Gojyo mentally revised his estimate of what had been in that black cloud. It sure explained why he’d felt so sexy fighting that chick, anyway.
“Man, Sanzo’s gonna be pissed when he gets his body back,” Gojyo said to Sanzo-sort-of above him. Still, he arched into the touch. This couldn’t be happening. Oh please, god, let this be happening.
“Who says I’m not Sanzo?” Sanzo said. His sticky golden hair fell over his eyes as he leaned forward, and his mouth was a thin line like a cruel smirk. One hand still slithered over Gojyo’s shoulders, into his armpits. His skin buzzed wherever Sanzo touched it. And hell, no-- Sanzo was grinding his crotch against Gojyo’s, and Gojyo definitely wasn’t the only one who was hard here. He wasn’t being killed, he was being humped by a gorgeous blond monk under the control of a youkai lust-spell-thingy. It wasn’t exactly a dream come true, but close enough.
Gojyo moaned a little. “How much of that shit did you breathe, anyway?”
“Enough.” Sanzo rocked back and sat on Gojyo’s thighs again, a hand shoving into his open robe and under the waistband of his own jeans, thumbing open the button. At some point he’d kicked off his boots and he half-rolled onto Gojyo’s legs and slithered out of his denim.
“Shit,” Gojyo said, and half-heartedly tried to shift his hips, to roll Sanzo off, but he couldn’t stop staring at Sanzo’s erect cock as he leaned forward again; there it was, hovering over Gojyo’s bare stomach in the fading light, and there was Sanzo’s face, leaning down to fasten his lips somewhere on Gojyo’s neck, below his chin. The warm, slippery tongue was a serious jolt to his already-weak resolve. Blood-sticky blond hair flopped forward and tickled Gojyo’s lips, and unconsciously he breathed it in, the scent and taste of humanity and the outdoors, life and death.
Sanzo shoved a hand down between them and opened Gojyo’s jeans, and Gojyo rocked again but it only pushed the heel of Sanzo’s hand into his own straining cock. The contact made him gasp and quit his struggling. Sanzo made short work of the fly and oh, holy hell, that silk and that metal ring against’s Gojyo’s cock, that shit was so hot, and the grip, hard, unyielding, perfect. Strong interest skyrocketed into full-on lust.
“Hmph,” Sanzo whispered into Gojyo’s skin, jerking at his oversensitized dick a few times. “Tell me you don’t want it.”
“Would you stop if I did?” Gojyo mumbled.
“Tell me. Do you want me to?” Sanzo’s tongue swiped on Gojyo’s throat with every word.
“Uh.”
“You’re too easy,” Sanzo said, yanking Gojyo’s jeans halfway down his thighs. Smashed between his own back and the ground, Gojyo’s hands were half-consciously helping.
“Hell, I got hit by that shit, too,” Gojyo groaned, rationalizing.
“Tch,” Sanzo said, a non-answer. He settled his bare ass against the tops of Gojyo’s thighs, sliding back and forth fractionally, humming a low moan of his own. A small worry began to penetrate Gojyo’s brain, fighting the haze of Sanzo-touching-lust. Was he gonna get fucked? He wasn’t sure he liked that thought too well.
“So, you must like me too, huh?” Gojyo mumbled, trying to stall the whatever, though maybe he wanted an answer as well. Gojyo didn’t want to push his luck-- his hands were still tied and Sanzo still had his gun somewhere.
“You’re always touching me...” Sanzo said, reaching into his robes, and Gojyo thought, this is it, I’m gonna get a bullet in my head while I’ve got a dick in my ass...not the way I wanted to go.
“Sorry...” he whispered.
“No, you’re not,” Sanzo said, and brought out a little tube of... something. Sanzo flipped the cap open and Gojyo caught the scent of flowers.
Gojyo was startled into further aroused panic. At least Sanzo was thinking ahead, but shit. Sleeping with females for half his life had taught him something. “What the hell--? Hand lotion? You can’t use that! Don’t put that in me, you shitty monk! You--”
“Shut up,” Sanzo said, and Gojyo shut up because Sanzo had taken hold of his dick again, was slathering the stuff onto it already, and it was all cold and burned at the same time and Gojyo’s mind blanked. Screw what he’d learned: Sanzo could fuck him if he wanted, Sanzo could do anything and Gojyo would beg for it. Because touch was what sent the tingly-lust-high over the edge, the particular evil of this little youkai-magic: every contact made it worse instead of better, and every touch was impossible to resist. Gojyo dimly wondered if Sanzo knew it, was feeling it, too.
He must have, because he kept running his hand over Gojyo’s body, touching everywhere he could, fingers digging into his skin, pushing down into his chest as he rocked forward on his knees. Gojyo wondered how was he gonna get fucked, ‘cause his jeans were still halfway down his thighs. Then he figured it out, because Sanzo used his grip on Gojyo’s cock to ram it up his ass, and it only squeezed the burning along Gojyo’s dick into the skin that covered the throb, the throb that was Gojyo’s entire being at the moment. He wasn’t being fucked, he was inside Sanzo and the world was painful and tight and amazing and terrifying, all at the same time.
“Ah!” Sanzo cried out a little, and hovered, halfway-impaled on Gojyo for a moment, fingers digging into Gojyo’s shoulders. “Ah!”
When Gojyo could think for a second, he looked up. Sanzo’s face was in shadow. The last bit of sunlight caught only the top of his head, turning it into a red-gold halo, and he hung there, his breathing harsh, deep gasps of air.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Gojyo whispered, but inwardly he was begging Sanzo to move, move, move, now dammit, motherfucker. And then his hips took up the chant, arching to get deeper, succeeding bit by bit, centimeter by centimeter of aching skin.
“No,” Sanzo said, and he must have been answering Gojyo’s question because he began moving, too. He shoved his palm over Gojyo’s mouth again, and Gojyo breathed silk and callused skin and moved, hips jerky as they tried to force him deeper into Sanzo. Finally the two of them found a sort-of-rhythm, a few minutes of perfect, painful sensation, not talking, only breathing, but the tension filling every pore of Gojyo’s body from scalp to toes only built, and didn’t go anywhere.
Sanzo was slamming his ass against Gojyo’s thighs, shoving Gojyo’s joined hands underneath him over and over into the gooey ground, fingers on his face pressing the back of his head down, the other hand still touching Gojyo everywhere he could reach. Sanzo was everywhere, he was everything, and all Gojyo could think was that no matter how hot and smooth and tight it was, it wasn’t going to work, it was just torture.
“Mmph mmph,” Gojyo said against the fabric and callused skin muffling his mouth. He shook his head, and Sanzo’s hand slipped free to dig into the ground next to Gojyo’s ear. The rest of Gojyo’s body never stopped moving, but he had to do something, dammit. He needed to be touching in return. It had been too long and now it was too intense-- he had to do something. “Sanzo. Huh. Please. Untie my hands.”
Sweat was dripping from Sanzo’s face, pooling onto Gojyo’s chest. His thighs on the outside of Gojyo’s burned them raw with it. “No... No.”
“Please, man.” Gojyo would beg, would do anything to touch, to finish it. “I’m-- I’m not-- going anywhere. I can help... I can make it better. I swear.”
Sanzo groaned, seemed to consider it. Gojyo took the initiative, pushed down on his fisted hands behind him and rolled them both to the side. Sanzo’s thighs locked around Gojyo’s hips at the near-break in the rhythm, and Gojyo felt his fingers fumbling at the ties. Then Gojyo’s hands were half-numb but free, and when Sanzo rolled Gojyo onto his back again he could grab Sanzo’s ass and pull forward with everything he had, and Sanzo’s breaths were all cries now and the sound was almost as devastatingly exciting as the touch. He wished he could see Sanzo’s slender, muscled body because he could only feel it, wished it wasn’t so dark and he could see Sanzo’s dick again, where he felt it sliding against his own belly.
“That’s it, Sanzo. Come on,” he encouraged, driving himself deeper, pushing burning skin into impossible heat. It had to go somewhere... it couldn’t last forever...it was working, Gojyo was making it happen...
Sanzo keened at him and started to shiver and came, finally, and Gojyo gripped his ass more tightly, fingers slippery on the sweaty skin, and thank you, thank you, the aching impossible throb that was everywhere rushed to his spine, his belly, and into Sanzo.
The relief was amazing. It had never felt like that before and never would again, Gojyo was sure. It was a short dream of relief, however, and lasted only a few seconds, because he was still touching Sanzo, touching the skin, and he had to do it again, touch all of it.
Sanzo was limp and Gojyo half-slammed him into the ground, rolling on top. He’d been looking up at Sanzo before, and now was looking down and could see around them and it was dark, but he could see the glassy eyes of dead youkai and a suspicious gleam on the trampled grass; it was wet and slick. Then he was kissing Sanzo at last, tongue diving in to taste Sanzo’s answering lust, the only part of it he’d been denied before. Sanzo moan-whimpered and wound a hand into Gojyo’s hair, holding on. They were both hard again, and it was unbelievable, and wonderful.
He had to get the taste of Sanzo, the smell of Sanzo, out of his system. He’d do it again, do it all night, all week, if that’s what it took. He could never get enough. The sweat, the heat, the fighting, the fucking.
“Gojyo? Sanzo?” Hakkai’s voice, somewhere nearby, reached Gojyo’s ears but he half-ignored it, was busy breathing Sanzo. “I can’t see you, but I can hear you.”
“Go away,” Gojyo mumbled, feeling guilty but irretrievably caught in the particular evil of this little youkai-spell. It would feel good forever: that was its curse and its beauty. He’d breathed and touched Sanzo and nothing else mattered.
“It will wear off,” Hakkai said with a sigh. “Two or three-- you’ll be thankful. Goku’s asleep in Jeep. We’ll wait for you.”
“Uh, okay,” Gojyo said, kissing Sanzo.
“Shit,” Sanzo said, kissing Gojyo back.
END.
Thanks for reading! Comments, concrit, flames all appreciated and cuddled.
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Date: 2008-05-05 06:41 pm (UTC)Whaaaaaa?!? How could Gojyo just accept that?!? Ha ha, that must be strong youryoku indeed!! Great imagery, and very, very hawt!!
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Date: 2008-05-05 06:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-06 06:29 pm (UTC)