Fic: Love Me, Dude (Saiyuki, SLASH)
Dec. 7th, 2007 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jedishampooTitle: Love Me, Dude
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jedishampoo
Fandom: Saiyuki
Pairing: 53 (Gojyo/Sanzo)
Rating: NC-l7 (NOT Worksafe)
Summary: For the Saiyuki Anonymous Kink Meme, not so anonymous, yeah, I gots no shame. Yaoi (slash). Someone mistakes Sanzo for a girl. Gojyo fumbles his way to taking charge. Humor, smut. Anonymous thread is HERE.
Author’s Notes: The requestor wanted: gojyo/sanzo (yes, gojyo seme) with some bondage, sap, and sweet sex resulting from some stranger thinking sanzo was actually in a dress not robes, and hitting on him. possessive gojyo would be nice, but if both were oblivious to the others’ attraction before this it would be best. I simply cannot resist the allure of the “first-time” fic. ;) As a writer, though, sap is definitely my weak point. I tried. And the bondage was fun. Thanks to my beta/roommatesharpeslass, who does not watch Saiyuki except through default, but read it anyway.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Saiyuki, Kazuya Minekura et al. do. I made no money writing this work of fanfiction. It was just a heck of a lot of fun.
“Hey, cute girl ya got there!”
“I believe they’re ogling you, Sanzo,” Hakkai pointed out, helpful as always.
Shit, Sanzo thought. They’d only just entered the bar, and already they had to deal with crap. He seriously was not in the mood for this tonight. Not that he was ever in the mood for this kind of crap. But at this particular moment, he was definitely, 100 percent, grade-A not in the mood.
He was tired. Hell, they were all tired. They’d left the decimated remains of Kami-Sama’s castle behind only a week or so ago. Sanzo’s half-healed wounds still gave him twinges, and he was sure he wasn’t alone in the aches and pains department.
And Sanzo was still pissed at Gojyo for taking off and going there in the first place. But most of all, Sanzo was pissed at himself for chasing after Gojyo.
Sanzo still wasn’t sure why he’d given in and gone after the damned cockroach. It’s just that... the team hadn’t worked without him. Sanzo hadn’t worked. He’d been off-kilter, and he hadn’t known where to aim his discontent. And to make things worse, Gojyo seemed to have come out of the whole debacle with funny ideas. Like that Sanzo cared, or something. But Sanzo was apparently just a masochist, unable to let go of what annoyed him most.
Because Sanzo didn’t care. And Gojyo was annoying, and disgusting, and not in the least bit fun to kill demons with and they hadn’t made an effective team at all and he wasn’t even extremely good-looking, and even if he had been, Sanzo wasn’t gay. At least he didn’t think he was. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted, sometimes. He just knew that he hated everyone.
But none of that mattered right now because he was exhausted, they had only this pissant watering hole-slash-inn-slash-brothel to eat and sleep in, they were already being hassled, and it was all Gojyo’s fault. And Gojyo was having too much fun right now. He’d even stopped goggling at the local prostitutes to watch Sanzo with strangely glittering ruby eyes.
So Sanzo ignored them all, sneered at his own boots as they trod the dirty floor of the barroom, and veered off, letting his feet lead them toward some unoccupied seats at the long tables. He sat down, lit a cigarette and lifted a finger, signaling whatever waitresses this sad saloon could boast. Maybe the local yokels would just shut up and he and his little holy demon party could eat and drink themselves insensible.
No such luck.
“Hey, Sweetheart! Don’t see many blondes around here. Specially wearing white dresses! Hah hah!” whoever-it-was yelled again, laughing at his own wit. “See that cute girl there, Zhan, my dude? Hey shweetsh! Come on over here and shay hello!”
Gojyo, as Sanzo had suspected, found the situation too delicious to ignore.
“Oi! Monk,” Gojyo said, with a leer so wide that Sanzo could see it even through his fringe of bangs. “Coupla potential boyfriends over there. They’re not bad-looking for country boys, either. Though I know how picky you are.”
Sanzo didn’t feel like arguing but he couldn’t let it pass. Not from Gojyo-the-cause-of-all-this. “Shut up,” he growled around his smoke. “I’m not in the mood for your moronic bullshit.”
He could also see Hakkai’s warning glance, which Gojyo blithely ignored.
“You’re never in the mood. What, is it that time of the month?” Gojyo continued, merrily on his way towards his doom, nudging Goku beside him. “I tell ya, Monkey, broken hearts all over China, but does he care?”
Goku snickered.
“Just ignore them, Sanzo,” Hakkai said.
“Hey, don’t ignore us, shweetheart!” the yokel yelled again.
“I’m going to kill you,” Sanzo said, under his breath, to Gojyo.
“Don’t be so bitchy. Though you look your most gorgeous when you’re angry. You might get some after all tonight, if you’re lucky.”
“I said, shut up,” Sanzo said, and pulled out his gun. He didn’t quite point it at Gojyo, just almost, but he made sure the threat was there and it said, I’m tired and in a pissy mood and I might not miss.
Gojyo, the ass, just laughed, showing straight white teeth. He lit a cigarette with an unconcerned air. Idiot kappa somehow knew Sanzo would never actually kill him. He shouldn’t know that.
“I’m hungry,” said Goku.
“I think we’re all hungry. And tired,” Hakkai said, in his best mediator voice. “Goku, why don’t you go find us some food?”
“Finally!”
Goku ran off and a waitress came by. Sanzo put his gun away and ordered enough sake to drown a platoon. And extra food, because he didn’t want Goku to gobble his down and start whining again immediately after. And an ashtray.
Gojyo ordered even more sake and, long lashes fluttering, practically shoved his nose into the waitress’s ample cleavage. Which annoyed Sanzo even more, though he couldn’t have said why.
The inn saloon may have been a dump but the service was fast; the booze arrived within a few short minutes, even before Goku returned. The home-brewed hooch was strong and tasty, just the way it should have been. Sanzo knocked back a couple of cupfuls without even breathing, lit another smoke, and felt better for it all almost immediately.
“My. I think even I may be able to get tipsy tonight,” Hakkai said from beside Sanzo, knocking a couple back himself and smiling in his scary sort of way.
“Look who’s here,” Gojyo said.
Something appeared in the periphery of Sanzo’s vision on his other side: a pair of brown homespun pants. He glanced up. They had visitors, two men. They were tall and muscular and good-looking in a freshly bumpkin-ish sort of way. Sanzo idly wondered if they were the ones who’d been making catcalls earlier. If they were, he supposed he would be justified in killing them.
“You idjit,” the taller of them said, pointing down. “I told you thoshe were robes, dude. It’s some kinda priest. And those are never girls. Look at the chakra!”
The other one stared at Sanzo, wide-eyed. “Dude, it’s not a lady at all!”
“Duh. You owe me 500, dude.”
“Can we help you?” Hakkai asked, politely. They ignored him. Gojyo just watched the entire scene through his cigarette smoke with a thrilled sort of fascination.
“Dude!” the shorter one said, again. “You gotta admit he’s too pretty to be a guy.”
“Dude! 500! Pay up.”
“They’re human, not youkai, Sanzo, remember that,” Hakkai muttered just under his breath.
Sanzo knew that. But really, how much of this could he be expected to take? He knocked back another glass of sake, and took a deep breath. His non-drinking hand shoved his Marlboro into his mouth, then fingered the Smith and Wesson tucked into his robe. “Go away.”
“Dude, listen, shorry about that,” the taller one slurred, laughing. “I’ll take my winnings and buy everyone a drink.”
“All happy now,” Gojyo said, with a sly grin. He looked at the two idiots-- the two other idiots, Sanzo corrected himself mentally-- and waved at the empty chairs next to Sanzo. “We’ll take you up on that offer, my man.”
“We?” Sanzo growled.
“If he’sh a monk, then why’sh he drinking?” the other guy said. He sat anyway at Gojyo’s invitation, plopping into his seat in a way that clearly stated he’d already partaken of plenty of the bar’s rice-wine. He resumed staring at Sanzo.
“Now Gojyo, you know we’re probably going to have to make an early night of it,” Hakkai lied, and then actually glared at Gojyo, endearing him quite a bit to Sanzo. Sanzo drank another couple of glasses in quick succession. Hakkai was his best friend, the only youkai in his entourage with any sense, and everyone else in the world could just die die die wow, this sake is good stuff where are my cigarettes?
“He’s buying,” Gojyo said with his too-powerfully-attractive grin. But his eyes, looking at Sanzo, almost held a challenge. “Loosen up, Hakkai.”
“Fine. Hello,” Hakkai said, and went back to tipping sake down his throat.
Hakkai was a traitor and stupid stupid and he should just die, die, and oh, there was the goddamn monkey with some of the food, I should probably eat, and nah, fuck it, I’ll just drink some more.
“I’m Zhan, this dude’s Wan,” the taller one, at the far end of the table, said. “Where y’all from?”
“Hell,” Sanzo said.
“Ain’t we all,” Wan said.
“Hey,” Goku said to the strangers, then started eating. Gojyo chatted with them, and watched them watching Sanzo, or at least Sanzo thought so. Sanzo just ignored them all and watched the scene, waiting for trouble. Watched Goku eating, Hakkai drinking, Gojyo drinking and talking, the edges of his handsome face blurred but his damned red-as-hellfire hair sharp and clear as it swung into his eyes, and was brushed out of his eyes. Why the hell did he spend so much time staring at Gojyo, lately? Masochism, again; fascination with that which can hurt you?
Watching Gojyo smoking, talking around his smoke. At one point he said Whoa, it’s warm and took off his jacket and flirted with the waitress who was bringing more of that fabulous sake and shit, why, why was Sanzo watching him, like watching for signs that he might leave again at any time? When just last week he’d hoped feared never to have to look at him again?
“Oi, Baldy, what are you looking at?” Gojyo asked at one point, with his stupid leering grin.
“I’m going to kill you all,” Sanzo mumbled, happily. He poured sake with one hand, and the other he used to fondle his pistol, fingers comfortably numb as they met the cold metal of the hammer, the trigger. Sanzo didn’t know why people told him he was a mean drunk. He was feeling almost complacent.
***
“Dude’s kinda cranky, ain’t he?” Wan asked.
“Hell, yeah,” Gojyo said.
What a weird night, Gojyo thought. Normally he’d have shooed yokels like this right off, but tonight, for some reason, he felt like yanking Sanzo’s chain. Watching Sanzo deal with the kind of attention he hated, watching him be as offputting as possible to someone who wasn’t Gojyo. And Sanzo particularly hated being mistaken for a chick. Some hot button from his past. Gojyo wasn’t sure if he would push that one himself or not, but he didn’t mind watching.
And as far as yokels went, Zhan and Wan weren’t all that bad. They were pretty damned funny, actually, once you got to know ‘em. Or had a few drinks. Or both. Of course, Gojyo wasn’t the one they’d insulted, per se. Even with his long hair, he never got mistaken for a chick.
Wan, though-- guy was maybe going a little too far. Gojyo wouldn’t have taken him for a homo, but damn, he was staring at Sanzo like there was no tomorrow.
Course, Gojyo could sympathize, ‘cause he was doing it, too. And he wasn’t a homo, either. He liked the ladies. Not that he hadn’t... explored other options. There had been that threesome that one time. But the chick had really wanted it; it had totally turned her on. And Gojyo hadn’t hated it, or anything...
Shit. Why was he thinking about that? Gojyo slammed another cup of sake, and smoked, and laughed at something Zhan said. And watched Wan watching Sanzo. And watched Sanzo watching him. He’d been doing that a lot, lately. It made Gojyo’s stomach wibble, and not in a bad way. It was like, after the events of the past couple of weeks, Sanzo was actually noticing Gojyo’s existence, other than as a landing-place for the harisen. So he stared back, whenever he got the chance, trying to figure it out.
It wasn’t a difficult thing to do. Sanzo was just too damned pretty for his own good. So pretty it was shocking until you got used to it. Though now and again even Gojyo found he hadn’t gotten used to it when he thought he had. He could get caught off guard, and look at him all over again, and be like, whoah-- feeling a little loopy just staring at him. Until Sanzo opened his mouth.
What was it Hakkai had said? Something like, Sanzo’s looks are in inverse proportion to his nature. Meaning, basically, that he looked so amazing that he had to be astonishingly nasty to make up for it.
Though he did have charisma. People just... wanted to be around him, anyway. And Gojyo had only lately realized something: Sanzo was intensely loyal, no matter how he tried to fake it or force it back down his throat like vomit. And Gojyo couldn’t stop himself; he must exploit it. Yank the chain, see how far he could pull it.
And it was funny. The more Gojyo drank, the better Sanzo looked. Or maybe it was that the more Sanzo drank, the better he looked. His cheeks were a little pink, his lips curled up in a weird, sensual little smile. Gojyo tried to look away. Back up at the waitress’s hooters, maybe, yeah, man this booze was good shit. Whoa, trouble-- Wan was leaning in a leetle too closely. He was in serious danger of getting Sanzo’s five-shooter shoved down his throat.
“Dude, I know you’re a dude, but you’re still kinda cute,” Wan slurred. He put one arm around Sanzo’s shoulders, and his free hand on Sanzo’s thigh. “Girly monk.”
Gojyo had to step in. He wasn’t willing to let the chain be yanked that far. Besides, he could hear the hammer-click of Sanzo’s pistol, somewhere under the table. Gojyo had learned well to recognize that sound, no matter how much he drank.
“Dude!” he said to Wan. Shit, now he was doing it. “That’s our pretty monk. Paws off.”
“Gotscha,” Wan said, yanking his paws back. He laid a clumsy finger next to his nose and gave Gojyo a drunken, knowing look. “Gotscha. Dude.”
Gojyo waited to hear the hammer click back into place. There.
“Very good sake,” Hakkai said into the breach. Good old Hakkai, best friend a guy could ever have.
“Not,” Sanzo said.
“I disagree,” Hakkai replied.
“Me, too,” Gojyo said, slamming another cupful. Hakkai was on the job, and Gojyo could go back to enjoying and propagating his whopping buzz. And staring at Sanzo.
“Good food. Yum!” Goku put in his two yen.
“Not,” Sanzo said again. Now everyone was staring at him, so he clarified. “Not yours.”
“Uh huh,” Gojyo said, taking hold of the chain once more. Feeling very un-guilty, because he’d only been trying to help and all. “Already said it. Bastard’s too damned picky.”
“Fuck you,” Sanzo said.
“Hard to get?” Wan asked.
“Yeah,” Gojyo said, and ignored Hakkai’s like tenth warning look of the night. He was not only yanking the chain, he was going to push the button. “Hard like concrete, man. No touchy. Untouchable girly-ass monk.”
“Fuck you,” Sanzo said again, and Gojyo could swear he heard the click of the pistol over the buzzing in his ears, and he didn’t care because the bastard monk was such an asshole. “You are a pain in my ass.”
“You wish. Oh-holy-monk of Temple Prick-Tease,” Gojyo riposted.
“Aaaand I think it’s time for bed?” Hakkai said, in a bright and not-at-all-drunk voice. He hoicked an arm under Sanzo’s shoulder, pulling him up and off the bench. “Goku, would you grab Gojyo’s jacket for me? And Gojyo?”
“Yeah...” Goku said, sending a longing look at the scant remainders of their food. Poor monkey, thought Gojyo. It had been all his, too. This was all Sanzo’s fault.
“Bye,” Gojyo waved at Zhan-dude and Wan-dude, who were staring with bleary eyes at the remains of the sake and looking as if they might like to puke. And he let Goku help him up the rickety old stairs to their rooms, while Hakkai, Jeep on his shoulder (where the hell had he come from all of a sudden?), supported Sanzo, who was weaving on his feet and mumbling under his breath. Who am I rooming with again? Oh, yeah. Shit. Sanzo. Well, at least Gojyo could argue with him in private, tell him what he really thought, without best-friend-to-all-Hakkai mediating. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’ll do. Wish I’d brought some sake, and where are my cigarettes?
Hakkai got the door unlocked and open, and half-carried Sanzo into the room. But he didn’t leave, just watched Sanzo standing there in the middle of the room, staring at Gojyo from beneath his bangs.
“And who you calling girly?” Sanzo said, continuing some conversation from earlier.
“You, ya lousy monk,” Gojyo said, glad to get an early start to the feud, Hakkai or no Hakkai. He was on a happy, loosened-tongue, hot-button-pushing roll now, by golly. “Untouchable, girly-ass monk, I think were my words.”
“Ha. To you, especially, you fuckin’ pervert.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Man, this felt good.
“Untouch. Able,” Sanzo said, none too steadily.
“Gojyo,” Hakkai said.
“There you go, shutting me down. Half of China,” Gojyo said, ignoring Hakkai, and hoping he made sense. He took a couple of steps forward, trying to look Sanzo in the eye. Damned blonde hair, it was all over the place. Gojyo resisted the urge to brush it out of the way. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, bombshell, challenge and all.”
“I’m not your fucking challenge.”
“Yeah. Can’t say I never tried, though.” Gojyo decided it was true. What else had he been doing, since the moment he’d met this fucking lousy monk, than trying to chip away at the wall of ice a little? Get him to pay fucking attention? He’d managed it, a bit, somewhere on a clifftop, a couple of weeks ago.
“Fuck,” Sanzo said, and raised an arm with a fist attached to it, and held it in the air at Gojyo-face-height. It wobbled a little. “You never really tried. You wouldn’t dare. You’re just as full of bullshit as ever.”
“Oh yeah?” Gojyo said, and didn’t resist the next urge he had. He brushed the clumsy punch aside, then locked his arms around Sanzo to keep the guns and fists out of the equation, and kissed him.
Weird. Sanzo looked like stone, and he acted like stone, but his mouth was just as soft and warm as anybody’s. No, warmer, Gojyo decided. Not too shabby. Sanzo tasted like cigarettes, and sake, which is what Gojyo was sure he tasted like, too. Still. It was Sanzo. Gojyo took a few moments to appreciate the strangeness of it all, the room spinning from the sake and whatever.
Gojyo just went with it and took the next logical step, though in this case it might be considered foolish: he snuck a tongue between those softer-than-expected lips. Maybe it was just him but was Sanzo kissing him back? Whatever the case, it sure felt pretty fucking amazing. For a dude and all. He wondered how long he might be saying ‘dude’ before he finally broke the habit. Man, this was fun. Sanzo wasn’t fighting at all. Dude, he liked it. So did Gojyo.
“Uh. Gojyo?” came Hakkai’s questioning voice. Gojyo had completely forgotten about their audience. “I think Sanzo’s passed out.”
“Mm?” Gojyo said, pulling away and looking down. Sanzo just sort of hung there, eyes closed, unmoving. Shit, was he? Either Gojyo was that good, or Sanzo really was passed out. Gojyo hardly felt drunk anymore; he was gobsmacked. He said the first thing that came to mind. “Huh. I sorta wondered why I wasn’t dead yet.”
He let go of Sanzo, who sort of just flopped back onto the bed
“That. Was weird,” came Goku’s voice. Gojyo turned to look at him. The monkey was wide-eyed, staring back and forth between the passed-out-Sanzo and the really-stupid-feeling-Gojyo.
“Goku, you can take Gojyo with you. Night, all,” Hakkai said, smiling his most scary smile ever and sitting on the Sanzo-free bed.
“Kyuu,” the little dragon called, perching himself on Hakkai’s shoulder.
Gojyo shook his head, and when the room spun he put a hand on his cheek to stop it. “This is my room! Don’t worry, I’m not a monk molester or anything.” He looked down at Sanzo again, sprawled on the bed. “At least, not usually.”
Goku went out the door, then looked back in at Gojyo. “Dude, are you like an ass-pirate or something? Cause dude, I really wanna just sleep.”
“Don’t say ‘dude,’” Gojyo told him, and followed him out the door.
***
Sanzo wasn’t quite passed out. Close to it, but not quite. He’d just been too drunk to punch straight or shoot straight, and too damned surprised at how far Gojyo had been willing to go, and so he’d taken the easy way out and faked it. When had Gojyo grown those testicles? Usually, he ducked from the harisen, for fuck’s sake.
Sanzo was pissed off, no doubt about it. But he wasn’t sure if he was more pissed off that Gojyo had done such a thing, or that he, Sanzo, hadn’t hated it. Physical stuff was just too messy.
Dimly he could feel Hakkai shifting him on the bed, taking off his Maten scripture, could hear the ruffling noise as Hakkai carefully rolled it up and stowed it somewhere. Hakkai’s sigh, like what do I do now? Hakkai digging through his robes to pull out his gun and set it on the nightstand so that Sanzo wouldn’t shoot himself or anyone else in his sleep. Hakkai, now, Hakkai could be trusted not to try any of that stupid, messy shit that was just too interesting for its own good. Where are my cigarettes and why is the bed moving and will I fall over and make an ass of myself when I stand up?
It must have been some time later when Sanzo next thought about getting up to look for his smokes; the lights were out and he could hear Hakkai breathing in his sleep. Sanzo must have passed out for real. Still dizzy, he raised his head from the pillow. No, the other bed was empty and it wasn’t Hakkai; someone was moving around in the room.
Sanzo reached for his gun and missed and fell out of the bed instead. He heard someone say dude, grab him! and he felt his arms being held behind his back, and something was tied around his mouth so he couldn’t yell, and something slammed into his skull and he thought, I didn’t need that and fuck I’m going to have a headache, bastards and then he passed out again.
***
When Sanzo next awoke it was daytime. He was somewhere inside but there was light, coming from under the door and through some cracks in the walls. Each beam shining through was like a dagger into his skull; he’d been right about that headache.
And he couldn’t do more than moan. Someone had gagged him and tied his hands behind his back, around something-- a pillar, perhaps. He was standing, sort of. He wished they’d at least put a bag over his head, so that the goddamn sunlight wouldn’t kill him before he could kill anyone else. Or that they’d at least laid him down so he wouldn’t have to suffer upright.
On the other hand, with his eyes free he could look around, much as it hurt, to see if anyone else was in the room. He appeared to be alone; no Hakkai captured with him, no captors watching to see when he might wake. But he could hear their voices in the next room.
“Dude, are you sure that scripture’s not on him? Would you know it if you saw it?”
“Dude, yeah, he was wearing it last night.”
“Shit. It was worth a lot to those youkai dudes, too.”
“You wanna come look for yourself?”
Shit, Sanzo thought. They’d completely let their guards down. Sanzo had completely let his guard down, because the innkeeper had sworn that there were no youkai anywhere near their town, and because Sanzo had been tired and focused on his own stupid, useless thoughts and worries that had nothing to do with their mission. This is all Gojyo’s fault, he thought with plenty of satisfaction. Gojyo the pervert. Who knew what he was doing, at least when it came to shoving his tongue down someone’s throat. Sanzo pushed the thought away.
The door opened and-- what were their names? Zhan and Wan?-- entered. Along with a third man, just as tall and bumpkin-ish as the first two. Fuck. How had they been fooled by idiots like these?
They-- Sanzo remembered again that he wasn’t alone on this holy trip. Surely, someone would come along soon. Hakkai, or Goku-- the sober, trustworthy ones. Well, Hakkai was trustworthy, at least. Not that the monkey couldn’t be trusted. He’d made himself useful at times. Sanzo thought he might even be happy to see Goku right about now.
That thought, strangely, made Sanzo feel better. He stood a little straighter and faced the three men who’d come into the room. Then he remembered how the one guy had been staring at him last night. He hoped someone in his little demon-ikkou showed up soon.
Still, he could put up a good front, at least. “This must be Yan,” he said, forgetting he was gagged. It came out sounding less disdainful than he might have hoped, sounding something like mmph mph meeph mamph.
“Where’s your scripture?” the new one, Yan-possibly, said.
“Mmph moomph.”
They didn’t have time to translate that fuck you, though, because a crash sounded from another room. It sounded like a wooden door slamming open. Sanzo thought it was a very good noise.
Zhan, Wan and Yan didn’t seem to think so. Their eyes widened and they turned to look through the open door behind them. Sanzo could see something like a metal glint that whipped through the air and whoomph, knocked them all down in succession. Goku’s nyoi-bou, perhaps?
Then Sanzo heard a metal scraping, like a chain snaking along a metal pole. Shit. Of all his rescuers, why did it have to be this one?
Sanzo’s worst nightmare appeared in the door, holding a shakou-jou and slamming its end onto the floor in some sort of dramatic-fucking-pose. “Oi. Is that you, Sanzo?”
“Mmph moomph.”
“Fuck me?” At least Gojyo could interpret correctly. “And after I’m the lucky one who found you? I can just leave you here, you know, you prick of a monk. Let Hakkai or Goku find you sometime later today.”
Sanzo rolled his eyes, letting Gojyo know that plan of action was fine by him.
“Nah, I’d never hear the end of it,” Gojyo said, coming into the room to stand by Sanzo. He looked disgustingly perky and non-hung-over. He reached behind Sanzo’s head and untied the gag, none too gently. It was like he knew that Sanzo’s head hurt like a sonofabitch.
The gag fell from Sanzo’s face and he rolled his sandpaper-tongue around in his mouth, trying to work some moisture back into it. “You could have untied my hands first, asshole,” Sanzo said, voice rough.
“Hell, no. Not until I’m sure you’re not going to kill me,” Gojyo replied with his stupid white-toothed grin. He reached out a long-fingered hand to run it through Sanzo’s hair, and over his shoulders.
“What the fuck are you doing? I’m going to fucking kill you,” Sanzo said, straining against the binds and the pillar, straining away from that gentle hand. Fucking pervert isn’t going to molest me here, is he? Sanzo wondered, then immediately wondered why the idea didn’t sound as horrible as it might have. He didn’t want to think about it. At least he could have some water first, get the sake-smoke-cloth taste out of his mouth. Then a cigarette. Sweet, sweet nicotine.
“Just checking to see if you’re bleeding, you dick,” Gojyo said. Then Gojyo read his mind. He pulled out a flask and held it to Sanzo’s lips. “Have a drink. It’s just water. You probably feel like shit. You look like shit.”
“Untie me,” Sanzo demanded, turning his head away.
“Not yet, Martyr-chan,” Gojyo said. He splashed a little water on Sanzo’s face anyway and then tucked the flask away and set his hands on his hips. “Want to talk to you first.”
Sanzo kicked him.
“Ouch! That hurt, you bastard.”
“Good.”
“Do I gotta tie your legs up, too?”
“Don’t you dare,” Sanzo growled.
Gojyo moved in close, standing between Sanzo’s legs where they could do the least damage. He just stared at Sanzo, eyes intent and ruby-like in the dark room.
“Listen, du-- man. I’m sorry if I-- uh. I might have gone too far last night. Don’t know if you remember. But there. Anyway.”
“Sure as hell you did. And I’m still going to kill you,” Sanzo said. But he realized that his threat didn’t have the impact it might have under other circumstances, because he was tied up and Gojyo was standing very close and Sanzo was staring at his lips. He licked his own, catching the droplets of water Gojyo had splashed around his face. Gojyo watched him do it. He grinned his slyest grin. Oh, shit.
“Reeeally,” Gojyo drawled. He pointed a finger at Sanzo’s chest. “So you do remember. You asshole. You just let me look like an idiot. You liked it, didn’t you?”
“Tch,” Sanzo said, wanting to look away from those intent eyes and finding himself unable to. Gojyo was getting too close to something Sanzo didn’t want him to know.
“Aaaaand. If I’m gonna die anyway, might as well do it again. Earn it, ya might say.” The finger at Sanzo’s chest trailed down a few inches, resting somewhere by his hip. Other fingers joined it, pressing into his flesh. Gojyo’s face leaned forward, inexorably closer, and he kissed Sanzo again.
Sanzo always had low blood pressure in the mornings, even when he wasn’t hung over. That had to be the reason he didn’t try to fight it, or bite Gojyo’s tongue off, though he vaguely thought about it. What else could he do? He wanted to be rescued at some point.
Yeah, right. Sanzo tried to focus on the pain in his skull but all he could feel were the fingers squeezing his hip and the slippery-rough and wet tongue sliding around in his mouth, and he could taste something fresh, and he realized that Gojyo had fucking had time to brush his teeth and Sanzo hadn’t but it wasn’t stopping the bastard from enjoying it, was it, at least based on the soft breathing sounds he made into Sanzo’s mouth.
And hell, yeah he must be a masochist, because he was enjoying it, too, and if he hadn’t been tied up he never would have allowed it in the first place. Wouldn’t have allowed Gojyo to press so close that Sanzo could feel his whole, lean body, and fuck, it was warm. Gojyo’s shakou-jou fell to the floor with a wooden-metal clonk and Gojyo’s other hand rested at Sanzo’s shoulder, toying with the edges of the robe at his neck. And still, those wide lips and fresh-tasting tongue didn’t stop their slow, insistent movements. To Sanzo’s intense humiliation, he moaned.
“Sanzo,” Gojyo whispered into his mouth.
And Sanzo’s lower half joined in the humiliation party, little aches and twitches building tensely in his belly. If Gojyo wanted to work out his frustrations on him, then Sanzo would prefer punches, hits, something he could withstand and hate. Not this tender sort of unrelenting worship. Sanzo’s brain suddenly imagined Gojyo hitting him and kissing him at the same time, and moaned again. He would kill Gojyo, and then himself. He was completely gay. Or something. Shit.
Sanzo wasn’t the only one who moaned. Somewhere across the room, the three morons began to stir.
“Duu....ude,” one of them said.
“Fuck.” Gojyo let go of Sanzo and stood back, staring at Sanzo with an idiotic expression for a few moments. Then he shook his head and picked up his weapon. “Gotta take care of these guys a little better.”
Gojyo didn’t kill them, just gave each of them another good thwack on the head to knock them out again. And still he didn’t untie Sanzo, who couldn’t even offer his opinion but only stand there breathing heavily like a moron, but grunted and dragged the three one-by-one into a closet. Finally he slammed the door behind them, then rubbed his hands and looked at Sanzo.
“Where were we?” he said, grinning unsteadily.
***
“You son of a bitch,” Sanzo told him.
“Yeah, I know,” Gojyo admitted, and looked at Sanzo slumping there against that pillar, and wondered what to do next. What he should do was untie the unholy-ass monk and then run like hell to get help. Hakkai would protect him.
But Gojyo just pulled his arms out of his jacket anyway, and let it drop to the floor, and went over to stand between Sanzo’s legs again.
“Motherfucker,” Sanzo told him, pretty face screwing up into a really good sneer.
“Nah, that’s my dad and my brother. You can just call me bastard,” Gojyo said, and laughed, almost giddy. He was taking this one way too far, he knew. But it was just too cool. How long had he thought about doing something like this? He couldn’t stop now.
He was a homo, after all. And Sanzo, the fuck, was enjoying it. It was so amazing, having Sanzo tied up here like this and liking it, and Gojyo liking doing it to him; the power had gone to his head, awoken something in him. He didn’t really care what happened later, as long as he finished what he was doing now. Quickly. Before Hakkai and Goku or anyone else found them. Once again, this was between him and the monk. A recent concept, but a fascinating one.
Quickly. Gojyo didn’t waste any more time but grabbed Sanzo’s waist again and put his other hand inside the robe at his chest, and kissed him. This time he wasn’t all sweet and gentle; he let Sanzo know what he was in for.
He could feel one of Sanzo’s boots at his calf, trying to kick him over from the side, but ignored it, comfortable in the powerful knowledge that Sanzo would give up any time now. Gojyo slipped his hand further inside the robe, brushing against the black silk at Sanzo’s chest. Geez, he was warm, and he could feel Sanzo’s heart, thumping against his palm.
“Stop it,” Sanzo said, or something like it, in a harsh voice.
“Nope,” Gojyo told him, sealing their fates. “It’s your fault I’m all gay or something, now, you shitty monk.”
Gojyo cut off Sanzo’s reply by putting his nose in Sanzo’s ear and shoving his tongue against his slightly-stubbled chin, hard enough to feel the pulse beating there in tandem with the one under Gojyo’s fingers.
Sanzo only moaned again.
Gojyo let his hand move down and across between them, feeling the muscles in Sanzo’s chest jumping and twitching with his hitched breaths. The boot thumping at his leg stilled, resting pressed against his calf. How did Sanzo’s hair smell so good, after the night they’d had?
Quickly, yeah right. Gojyo stopped trying to give Sanzo a hickey and used both hands to untie his monkly robes and pull them open. He stilled any protest Sanzo might have made by kissing him again, and damn if Sanzo didn’t taste like stale sake and smoke and fucking sunshine.
Gojyo slid his fingers into the waistband of Sanzo’s jeans, down until they stopped touching silk and met the warm skin of his hips. And he felt something else: something hard pressing against his stomach, something which told him that yeah, Sanzo was enjoying this, indeedy.
And Gojyo, as ever, couldn’t just shut up and do his job but had to say whatever came into his brain. Like Hakkai said: straight from mind to mouth, yes, that was Sha Gojyo.
“Is that a pistol in your jeans or are you just happy to see-- Ouch!”
Sanzo had kicked him again, in the knee. “Don’t even say something so moronic to me.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Gojyo said and shut Sanzo and himself up again by shoving his tongue down the other man’s throat. Because he certainly wasn’t complaining, was feeling pretty damned aroused himself. Sso gay right now. He pressed his stiff cock into Sanzo’s belly, and moaned himself at how awesome it felt there.
He snuck a hand between them to undo the button on Sanzo’s jeans, then pulled them down and gripped Sanzo’s ass hard with his fingers, shoving the two of them even more tightly together.
Welp, Sanzo was definitely no girl but his flesh felt great between Gojyo’s fingers. Sanzo’s shoulders bumped his like he was straining to get his arms free, either to hold Gojyo or throttle him, Gojyo didn’t know. But there was no way Gojyo was untying him now. First he was going to make this beautiful, asshole monk very mind-blowingly glad he was tied up. And later, he, Gojyo, was going to die, very likely very horribly.
He knew what he was going to do. Now he just had to do it. Gojyo had to think for a moment, something difficult to do in this situation: he could do this, give a blowjob, right? Hopefully. Well, he’d sorta done it before and had certainly had it done to himself plenty of times. It couldn’t be that difficult to get it right.
He slid his hands down the outside of Sanzo’s thighs, and let the rest of him follow, tasting the stubble at Sanzo’s chin and the silk of his shirt and the sweat beading at the little blond hairs at his navel and whoa, there was Sanzo’s cock, bigger than Gojyo might have suspected for such a thin guy, twitching with each ragged breath Sanzo took.
Was he really going to put that into his mouth? Hell, yeah, if only to let the monk know who was in control here. The thought of it all made his own cock twitch, tight in his jeans with how erotic it all was.
“Don’t,” Sanzo said from somewhere above him, almost desperate-sounding.
“Too late,” Gojyo said and just wrapped his lips around the tip of it. Oh yeah, now he remembered that taste, except it was Sanzo, here, Sanzo the holier-than-thou prettiest monk in all Buddist-dom, the one who cared for all of them and protected them despite himself.
“Ah!” Sanzo said, sharply and quickly, jerking a little, and Gojyo thought he might just be in love.
He pulled his lips off with a bit of a smack, thinking about how long he might take to do this if he felt like it. He could take all day, and Sanzo would love it and hate it at the same time. And man, that was an erotic fucking thought.
Then he remembered that he should be in a hurry, because Goku and Hakkai could show up at any time. So he curled his fingers back under Sanzo’s testicles, warm damp flesh with small tickling hairs, and slid the cock into his mouth again, this time with intent.
Sanzo’s hips jerked again and Gojyo choked. Eyes watering, he backed off just a bit, and heard a broken sort of laugh escape Sanzo’s throat. Gojyo looked up and Sanzo’s eyes were screwed shut, and his mouth was screwed as well into a grim smile.
Well, Gojyo would show him. He squeezed his balls and slid his mouth around the pitching flesh again, this time relaxing his throat, in and out, in and out a few times until Sanzo’s mouth hung open, slack-jawed, and there, how did he like that?
Gojyo did it a couple more times for good measure, pulling down Sanzo’s jeans to his knees with his free hand. And oh yeah, he remembered something else he could do. He released Sanzo’s balls and shoved his finger into his mouth alongside Sanzo’s cock, licking it, then nudged it back into the little opening of Sanzo’s ass. It was tight, but he got the slicked finger in.
“Fucking bastard,” Sanzo breathed.
“Hm?” Gojyo asked, because his mouth was full, and he looked up. Sanzo’s face was definitely pink now, and all shining. He looked better mid-blowjob than he did after a few sakes. Fucking amazing. Gojyo was definitely in love.
“Don’t worry,” Gojyo said, but his was still full so it sounded like “momph momph,” and he pushed his finger up, then another, looking for the right muscle and jackpot-- he knew he’d found it because Sanzo actually whimpered went all slack, sagging against the wooden pillar. It was brought home again with amazing clarity that he was kneeling here with Sanzo’s cock in his mouth, and the billowy robe and all the defenses were down, and Sanzo had no free arms to do anything about it, and that he wouldn’t want to anyway. He was more vulnerable in that moment than Gojyo had ever seen him. Even lying in a pool of blood, Sanzo always had a wall up around him, a wall Gojyo could only scrabble at pathetically and never actually climb.
Now Gojyo had obliterated that wall into dust. In fact, it looked like Sanzo might fall down completely and Gojyo was all aching and throbbing-hard himself, itching to get even closer. A daring thought occurred him, about what he might do if he was willing to take it all the way. Well, the daring thought re-occurred to him, because he’d totally thought about it before, only usually when he was alone or like maybe all last night.
But he hesitated: it was like he’d opened a can of worms and didn’t know how to fish. Only hesitated for a second. There was no time like the present.
Except, he realized then through his own haze of crazy ideas and flesh-warm-Sanzo-lust that he couldn’t do what he wanted, because he had nothing on him but spit and water, and that wouldn’t work. He wanted to screw Sanzo, not kill him. Man, he was going to make a terrible homo, forgetting shit like that.
Well, once he finished the blowjob, then he’d have at least a useable lube. Problem solved. And people accused Gojyo of being stupid.
Course set, he curled his finger forward again, gave a few hard sucks and oh, shit, Sanzo cried out and climaxed and Gojyo was going to choke again. So he pulled out his finger, and spit into his palm.
Gojyo stood, patting Sanzo’s ass as he did so and probably earning himself an even more horrible death in the near future. He kissed Sanzo on the corner of his open mouth. Sanzo was gorgeous, all sweaty and eyes unfocused. Gojyo had done this, Gojyo, Gojyo, Gojyo.
“Gonna need that,” Gojyo joked. He was surprised to find his voice was unsteady with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t separate or identify. They were all mixed in there together: lust, tenderness, pride-- awe, even. He wanted to yell, I did that! Look what I did, all by myself! Acknowledge me! Love me! But he didn’t.
Sanzo’s purple eyes focused. “You wouldn’t fucking dare,” he breathed, voice even more unsteady than Gojyo’s.
“Oh yeah, I fucking would.” He stuck one foot between Sanzo’s legs, then stepped the other through, so that he was shoved up against Sanzo with Sanzo’s jeans hanging behind him. And it was a good thing he’d lost weight recently or he’d never have been able to drop his own jeans with one hand. Could Sanzo possibly realize how much Gojyo wanted him right now? Gojyo would never tell him.
And Sanzo didn’t’ fight him at all as he hooked a hand under Sanzo’s knee and lifted him, lopsidedly, locking it on his own hip. The handful of semen he spread along Sanzo’s ass and his own pulsing cock, and he took a second to marvel that he was using Sanzo’s semen on his cock, and love me, that felt so good, was the most erotic possible thing ever.
Once his hand was relatively empty he grabbed Sanzo’s other knee and yanked it up, pressing Sanzo’s back against the pillar and pressing in to hold him against it. He shoved his erection against Sanzo’s semi-slicked hole, and it was hot and tight and man, that felt great.
“That hurts, motherfucker,” Sanzo said. His tone was surprisingly mild, like they were having a conversation about which route to take west or about groceries or something. Apparently Sanzo had realized that it was just going to happen and had either resigned himself to it, or was going to enjoy it. Gojyo hoped-- and then knew-- it was the latter, based on the glittery sort of lustful, hooded look in Sanzo’s eyes. And the way he went sort of limp.
“Just relax, du-- man,” Gojyo said, and hoisted the knees a little higher-- ah, there, now he had a clear shot, and it was tight, but he’d just have to go for it.
“Ah!” came the cry from Sanzo’s throat the same time as the one from Gojyo’s.
“Dozzit hurt?” Gojyo mumbled, burying his face in Sanzo’s hair, feeling all things Sanzo Sanzo Sanzo surrounding him.
“Yeah,” came Sanzo’s strained voice, warm breaths tickling Gojyo’s ear and sending shivery chills streaking through his body. “Will it matter?”
“No,” Gojyo said, and meant it, and miracle of miracles, Sanzo went even more limp against the pillar, and Gojyo could move, slow, steady, but it was still fucking tight and good, and sweat was rolling down Gojyo’s neck and he could taste sweat behind Sanzo’s ear.
“Sanzo,” he whispered again, and Sanzo’s reply was a grunting breath.
Gojyo lost track of minutes, was counting time in breaths, his. And Sanzo’s. Sanzo didn’t say anything, just breathed, short little ahs into Gojyo’s shoulder. Gojyo briefly lost spirit; was Sanzo hating it, was he just hanging there waiting for it to be over, and was Gojyo doing the most completely wrong thing ever?
The answer to that was no; Gojyo was doing something right because he could feel Sanzo’s cock twitching around his stomach. So he released one knee to grab hold of it, do anything to make Sanzo happy, though he could never let Sanzo know that. And Sanzo didn’t fall because he kept his own legs locked around Gojyo’s hips as he thrust and Gojyo was so happy he wanted to cry.
“Sanzo,” he whispered pathetically, yet again, and moved faster, hips and fingers, into the solid reality of Sanzo’s body, against the solid wooden pillar. And he was coiled too tight, and in too tight, and the friction was too rough and grinding and he thought he must be hurting Sanzo and just as he began to not care, he came, short, angry stabs.
All Gojyo’s limbs were shaking and feeble; he wanted to collapse but he kept his hand moving just a little longer until he felt Sanzo’s second climax running down his stomach. Love me! And then he could just flop forward, face buried in Sanzo’s half-silk-clad, half-bare and sweaty shoulder, and breathe for real, great gasping heaves.
Sanzo put up with that for a few moments before struggling a little in Gojyo’s embrace, and Gojyo realized he was probably crushing the poor guy. So he untangled himself from Sanzo and stepped back.
Sanzo hung his face so only his blond hair showed, gleaming in the little streaks of sunlight that managed to stab their way through the room.. His jeans were still down, his arms were still tied back, and he looked so pathetic, so used, that Gojyo felt stabs of guilt like sunlight on his dark, dark soul. What in the hell had he just done?
Then he remembered that Sanzo had enjoyed it as much as Gojyo had. The evidence still showed on both of them. Gojyo had that to hold onto, at least. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t restore some of the monk’s dignity. Gojyo kneeled down and tugged Sanzo’s jeans to his waistline, and even buttoned them. He gave Sanzo’s stomach a pat, and risked a glance up under the fringe of yellow-white bangs.
Sanzo spotted his stare and pulled up his chin. “Are you going to untie me now?”
“Um,” Gojyo said. He supposed he ought to. First, though, he was going to pull up his own jeans and put on his jacket. He did that. Then he decided he was going to stand by the door, and cut Sanzo’s ties with the blade on the shakou-jou at its fullest extension.
Sanzo seemed to read his mind. “Don’t even think about running away.”
“I wasn’t!” Gojyo lied. And to prove his own courage, shitloads of which he’d seemed to have twenty minutes ago and none of which he had now, he walked around the other side of the wooden pillar to loosen the ties. He noticed, then, the splinters in the wood, and the way Sanzo’s wrists had been rubbed raw against it, skin red and bleeding slightly. Shit. Gojyo pulled out the last knot.
Sanzo merely stepped forward one or two paces, moaning as he brought his arms forward and rubbed at his wrists. Gojyo hung back, shaking just a little.
Crack! Sanzo’s fist hitting his jaw was more of a surprise to Gojyo than he’d thought it would be. He fell back on his ass and waited for the rest of the blows to fall. Then he looked up when they didn’t.
Now Sanzo was pacing a bit, rubbing his knuckles as well as his wrists.
“I guess I deserved that,” Gojyo said.
“Like fuck you did. Tch,” Sanzo said, and shook his head.
Man, Gojyo was getting off easy. So that’s what Sanzo liked. Gojyo had enjoyed the whole episode immensely, and had fully expected the punishment to meet the absolute bliss of being all over Sanzo like that. Shit, he loved that man. He would invest in handcuffs. “Don’t tell Hakkai.”
“How stupid are you, that you might possibly think that I would ever tell Hakkai something like that.”
Gojyo just shrugged, and let the bliss steal through his veins all over again. He smiled a moron’s smile up at Sanzo.
“Tch,” Sanzo said. “Got any smokes? Mine were left in the room.”
“Uh, yeah. ‘Course,” Gojyo said, somewhat stupidly. He pulled his pack out of his jacket pocket, stuck two in his mouth and lit them both at once, then proffered one to Sanzo.
Sanzo took the smoke without words and shoved it between his lips. He inhaled, and blew smoke out his nose with a look that might have reached Gojyo’s level of blissful. Then he walked over and opened the door where the cretins were stored, and looked in. “Didn’t even tie them up, idiot,” he said, then closed the closet and kicked it, and stomped out of the room. He called back without looking, “get cleaned up, and then you can tell me where Hakkai and Goku are.”
“Yes, sir,” Gojyo said, and giggled like an idiot girl.
***
The tobacco smoke was like a wind sent from Nirvana, coiling through Sanzo’s lungs, relaxing every nerve in his body. He stood outside and breathed only smoke for a whole minute before looking down and realizing that he needed to clean up as well. Nobody ever said gay love wasn’t messy. Shit.
He dunked his hand in a nearby rainwater bucket and splashed his arms. It was a cool morning but his temperature was up, cheeks hot like he was sitting next to a campfire. So he splashed his face for good measure. His shirt and jeans would have to wait; he didn’t want anything to look more suspicious than it already did. And wet spots would definitely look suspicious. He straightened his robe and looked up and down the street, getting his bearings. He refused to think about what had happened.
It was difficult not to, though. And his legs were still a bit jelly-like and his ass still hurt. What the hell had the damned idiot kappa been thinking, executing a ravishment without being prepared? Next time, Sanzo would be sure to-- well, except there wasn’t going to be a next time.
Tch, Sanzo said to himself, boot grinding the cigarette filter into the cobbles under his feet. At least his hangover was gone, anyway. He could try to forget what Gojyo had done-- what he had allowed Gojyo to do. How he’d completely lost it, how completely he’d been able to enjoy it. Helpless, but unafraid. Gratified and yet unnerved. It was a mixture of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He hadn’t known what he wanted until it was handed to him.
He decided he didn’t want to wait for Gojyo after all. He started walking down the empty, early-morning street, anywhere, away from that house. A block away he remembered that he didn’t have any cigarettes. Or his card to buy smokes. Shit. He’d been in such a hurry to leave escape that he hadn’t even searched the three An-brothers-or-whatever for his possessions.
He’d have to go back. To the place-he-wanted-to-forget.
“Sanzo! Sanzo!”
He turned around. It was Goku, tearing down the street at him, wearing one of his hugest, dopiest smiles.
“Hmph,” Sanzo greeted him.
“Sanzo!” Goku caught up with him and started to grab at the sleeve of Sanzo’s robe, then stopped and just bounced back and forth on his heels. “Sanzo, where were you? What happened? We’ve been looking for you! I haven’t even had breakfast yet!”
“Worried about your stomach, were you?” Sanzo asked. He felt almost charitable towards the little monkey. Probably because he was not-Gojyo. “Where’s Hakkai?”
“He’s coming. I thought he was right behind me! I must’ve outrun him. We split up to search for you, but then Hakkai convinced the innkeeper to give us some more information--”
Sanzo could just bet that Hakkai had convinced the innkeeper. He’d probably smiled at him.
“--and it turns out that he told us to go where we’d already sent Gojyo, so here we are!” Goku was still grinning like he’d just been handed a mountain of meat buns. “Um. You haven’t seen Gojyo, have you? Um. He was being kind of weird last night--”
“Oi, Monkey, what took you so long?”
The subject under discussion was shambling his way down the street toward them. He was walking like he didn’t have a care in the world, long-legged and supple. Sanzo looked the other way.
“Dude, Gojyo, what happened to your face?”
At that, Sanzo had to turn and look. The right side of Gojyo’s chin was turning a lovely shade of pinkish-purple. Sanzo smiled inside, just a little.
“I told you not to say ‘Dude,’ Dude,” Gojyo said, grinning.
Goku snickered. Then he looked at Sanzo. Then he looked back at Gojyo’s chin. He seemed to reach a conclusion. “Well, if everything’s all good, then, can we eat when Hakkai gets here? I’m hungry!”
Gojyo ruffled the boy’s hair. “Bottomless pit of a monkey.”
“Perverted water sprite!”
“Hell yeah, I am.” He didn’t look at Sanzo when he said it.
A familiar mechanical rumbling noise made them all turn. And there were the last two members of Sanzo’s little party, tooling down the street.
“Hello Sanzo. I’m glad to see you’re safe,” Hakkai said when they pulled up. He looked at the others. “You’ll need to put something on that chin, Gojyo, or it will only get worse.” If he thought anything else, he didn’t say it. Good old sensible Hakkai.
It turned out that Hakkai had nipped downstairs to get food when Sanzo had been taken. And hadn’t worried right away, because, well, Sanzo did what Sanzo wanted. Hakkai didn’t apologize too profusely and didn’t need to, because he had in his safe possession the Maten scripture and Sanzo’s gun and smokes and credit card, among other things. Gojyo and Sanzo updated Hakkai on the situation with the three attackers.
“They said something about youkai wanting the scripture,” Sanzo told him.
“Same old, same old,” Gojyo said.
Hakkai looked thoughtful. “What do you want to do?”
Sanzo thought about it. For about half a second.
“Get the hell out of here,” he said. “Now.”
“But it’s two days to the next town and we’ve been running around all morning and we haven’t had breakfast and I’m hungry!” Goku whined.
Hakkai gave Sanzo the look, that let’s-be-reasonable-look. “Shouldn’t we at least shop for some supplies first? If we’re going to camp out?”
The jeep made a small kyuu noise.
“Please please please?” Goku said, squeezing his hands together and flashing puppy-eyes in Sanzo’s direction.
“Aren’t you about out of smokes?” Gojyo said.
Sanzo was outvoted. When had this ikkou become a democracy? he wondered. For not the first time, lately.
“Fine. Make it quick.” He handed Hakkai his gold card. “Get me a carton of smokes.”
Goku jumped up and down again. “I’ll go with you to help you pick out the food, Hakkai!”
And they were off in the Jeep. Leaving Sanzo and Gojyo alone together, again. A new turn of events which had been repeating itself a lot, lately.
But Gojyo didn’t start any of his usual shit. He just leaned against the wall, one knee bent with his foot flat against it, and lit a smoke. So Sanzo did the same. They smoked in silence for a few almost companionable minutes.
After a while Gojyo turned to look at him. Sanzo waited for the idiocy to start. He seriously was not in the mood for any crap.
But the look on Gojyo’s face was strange; it was one that Sanzo couldn’t read. It was untinged with Gojyo’s usual smugness or confusion, perhaps a bit questioning but otherwise inscrutable. It wasn’t a look Sanzo was used to seeing on Gojyo. In fact, Sanzo found himself curious to find out what Gojyo had to say. Another new turn of events.
But Gojyo didn’t speak, just looked at Sanzo. And Sanzo looked back at him.
Sanzo wanted to say, what? But he didn’t.
Gojyo never asked the question, just blew smoke and then turned to stare straight ahead once more.
Tch, Sanzo said under his breath, and lit another cigarette.
Then Gojyo kicked off from the wall. “I gotta go pick something up,” he said, and walked off down the street without another word.
Sanzo just watched him go.
FINIS
Thanks for reading! Any and all comments are appreciated, good or bad-- I can take it. This is only my second Saiyuki fic (my first that wasn’t crack) and so I welcome your thoughts on the situation, characterizations, etc. :)
X-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
saiyuki, bad_friends, aff.
Author:
jedishampooFandom: Saiyuki
Pairing: 53 (Gojyo/Sanzo)
Rating: NC-l7 (NOT Worksafe)
Summary: For the Saiyuki Anonymous Kink Meme, not so anonymous, yeah, I gots no shame. Yaoi (slash). Someone mistakes Sanzo for a girl. Gojyo fumbles his way to taking charge. Humor, smut. Anonymous thread is HERE.
Author’s Notes: The requestor wanted: gojyo/sanzo (yes, gojyo seme) with some bondage, sap, and sweet sex resulting from some stranger thinking sanzo was actually in a dress not robes, and hitting on him. possessive gojyo would be nice, but if both were oblivious to the others’ attraction before this it would be best. I simply cannot resist the allure of the “first-time” fic. ;) As a writer, though, sap is definitely my weak point. I tried. And the bondage was fun. Thanks to my beta/roommate
sharpeslass, who does not watch Saiyuki except through default, but read it anyway.Disclaimer: I don’t own Saiyuki, Kazuya Minekura et al. do. I made no money writing this work of fanfiction. It was just a heck of a lot of fun.
“Hey, cute girl ya got there!”
“I believe they’re ogling you, Sanzo,” Hakkai pointed out, helpful as always.
Shit, Sanzo thought. They’d only just entered the bar, and already they had to deal with crap. He seriously was not in the mood for this tonight. Not that he was ever in the mood for this kind of crap. But at this particular moment, he was definitely, 100 percent, grade-A not in the mood.
He was tired. Hell, they were all tired. They’d left the decimated remains of Kami-Sama’s castle behind only a week or so ago. Sanzo’s half-healed wounds still gave him twinges, and he was sure he wasn’t alone in the aches and pains department.
And Sanzo was still pissed at Gojyo for taking off and going there in the first place. But most of all, Sanzo was pissed at himself for chasing after Gojyo.
Sanzo still wasn’t sure why he’d given in and gone after the damned cockroach. It’s just that... the team hadn’t worked without him. Sanzo hadn’t worked. He’d been off-kilter, and he hadn’t known where to aim his discontent. And to make things worse, Gojyo seemed to have come out of the whole debacle with funny ideas. Like that Sanzo cared, or something. But Sanzo was apparently just a masochist, unable to let go of what annoyed him most.
Because Sanzo didn’t care. And Gojyo was annoying, and disgusting, and not in the least bit fun to kill demons with and they hadn’t made an effective team at all and he wasn’t even extremely good-looking, and even if he had been, Sanzo wasn’t gay. At least he didn’t think he was. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted, sometimes. He just knew that he hated everyone.
But none of that mattered right now because he was exhausted, they had only this pissant watering hole-slash-inn-slash-brothel to eat and sleep in, they were already being hassled, and it was all Gojyo’s fault. And Gojyo was having too much fun right now. He’d even stopped goggling at the local prostitutes to watch Sanzo with strangely glittering ruby eyes.
So Sanzo ignored them all, sneered at his own boots as they trod the dirty floor of the barroom, and veered off, letting his feet lead them toward some unoccupied seats at the long tables. He sat down, lit a cigarette and lifted a finger, signaling whatever waitresses this sad saloon could boast. Maybe the local yokels would just shut up and he and his little holy demon party could eat and drink themselves insensible.
No such luck.
“Hey, Sweetheart! Don’t see many blondes around here. Specially wearing white dresses! Hah hah!” whoever-it-was yelled again, laughing at his own wit. “See that cute girl there, Zhan, my dude? Hey shweetsh! Come on over here and shay hello!”
Gojyo, as Sanzo had suspected, found the situation too delicious to ignore.
“Oi! Monk,” Gojyo said, with a leer so wide that Sanzo could see it even through his fringe of bangs. “Coupla potential boyfriends over there. They’re not bad-looking for country boys, either. Though I know how picky you are.”
Sanzo didn’t feel like arguing but he couldn’t let it pass. Not from Gojyo-the-cause-of-all-this. “Shut up,” he growled around his smoke. “I’m not in the mood for your moronic bullshit.”
He could also see Hakkai’s warning glance, which Gojyo blithely ignored.
“You’re never in the mood. What, is it that time of the month?” Gojyo continued, merrily on his way towards his doom, nudging Goku beside him. “I tell ya, Monkey, broken hearts all over China, but does he care?”
Goku snickered.
“Just ignore them, Sanzo,” Hakkai said.
“Hey, don’t ignore us, shweetheart!” the yokel yelled again.
“I’m going to kill you,” Sanzo said, under his breath, to Gojyo.
“Don’t be so bitchy. Though you look your most gorgeous when you’re angry. You might get some after all tonight, if you’re lucky.”
“I said, shut up,” Sanzo said, and pulled out his gun. He didn’t quite point it at Gojyo, just almost, but he made sure the threat was there and it said, I’m tired and in a pissy mood and I might not miss.
Gojyo, the ass, just laughed, showing straight white teeth. He lit a cigarette with an unconcerned air. Idiot kappa somehow knew Sanzo would never actually kill him. He shouldn’t know that.
“I’m hungry,” said Goku.
“I think we’re all hungry. And tired,” Hakkai said, in his best mediator voice. “Goku, why don’t you go find us some food?”
“Finally!”
Goku ran off and a waitress came by. Sanzo put his gun away and ordered enough sake to drown a platoon. And extra food, because he didn’t want Goku to gobble his down and start whining again immediately after. And an ashtray.
Gojyo ordered even more sake and, long lashes fluttering, practically shoved his nose into the waitress’s ample cleavage. Which annoyed Sanzo even more, though he couldn’t have said why.
The inn saloon may have been a dump but the service was fast; the booze arrived within a few short minutes, even before Goku returned. The home-brewed hooch was strong and tasty, just the way it should have been. Sanzo knocked back a couple of cupfuls without even breathing, lit another smoke, and felt better for it all almost immediately.
“My. I think even I may be able to get tipsy tonight,” Hakkai said from beside Sanzo, knocking a couple back himself and smiling in his scary sort of way.
“Look who’s here,” Gojyo said.
Something appeared in the periphery of Sanzo’s vision on his other side: a pair of brown homespun pants. He glanced up. They had visitors, two men. They were tall and muscular and good-looking in a freshly bumpkin-ish sort of way. Sanzo idly wondered if they were the ones who’d been making catcalls earlier. If they were, he supposed he would be justified in killing them.
“You idjit,” the taller of them said, pointing down. “I told you thoshe were robes, dude. It’s some kinda priest. And those are never girls. Look at the chakra!”
The other one stared at Sanzo, wide-eyed. “Dude, it’s not a lady at all!”
“Duh. You owe me 500, dude.”
“Can we help you?” Hakkai asked, politely. They ignored him. Gojyo just watched the entire scene through his cigarette smoke with a thrilled sort of fascination.
“Dude!” the shorter one said, again. “You gotta admit he’s too pretty to be a guy.”
“Dude! 500! Pay up.”
“They’re human, not youkai, Sanzo, remember that,” Hakkai muttered just under his breath.
Sanzo knew that. But really, how much of this could he be expected to take? He knocked back another glass of sake, and took a deep breath. His non-drinking hand shoved his Marlboro into his mouth, then fingered the Smith and Wesson tucked into his robe. “Go away.”
“Dude, listen, shorry about that,” the taller one slurred, laughing. “I’ll take my winnings and buy everyone a drink.”
“All happy now,” Gojyo said, with a sly grin. He looked at the two idiots-- the two other idiots, Sanzo corrected himself mentally-- and waved at the empty chairs next to Sanzo. “We’ll take you up on that offer, my man.”
“We?” Sanzo growled.
“If he’sh a monk, then why’sh he drinking?” the other guy said. He sat anyway at Gojyo’s invitation, plopping into his seat in a way that clearly stated he’d already partaken of plenty of the bar’s rice-wine. He resumed staring at Sanzo.
“Now Gojyo, you know we’re probably going to have to make an early night of it,” Hakkai lied, and then actually glared at Gojyo, endearing him quite a bit to Sanzo. Sanzo drank another couple of glasses in quick succession. Hakkai was his best friend, the only youkai in his entourage with any sense, and everyone else in the world could just die die die wow, this sake is good stuff where are my cigarettes?
“He’s buying,” Gojyo said with his too-powerfully-attractive grin. But his eyes, looking at Sanzo, almost held a challenge. “Loosen up, Hakkai.”
“Fine. Hello,” Hakkai said, and went back to tipping sake down his throat.
Hakkai was a traitor and stupid stupid and he should just die, die, and oh, there was the goddamn monkey with some of the food, I should probably eat, and nah, fuck it, I’ll just drink some more.
“I’m Zhan, this dude’s Wan,” the taller one, at the far end of the table, said. “Where y’all from?”
“Hell,” Sanzo said.
“Ain’t we all,” Wan said.
“Hey,” Goku said to the strangers, then started eating. Gojyo chatted with them, and watched them watching Sanzo, or at least Sanzo thought so. Sanzo just ignored them all and watched the scene, waiting for trouble. Watched Goku eating, Hakkai drinking, Gojyo drinking and talking, the edges of his handsome face blurred but his damned red-as-hellfire hair sharp and clear as it swung into his eyes, and was brushed out of his eyes. Why the hell did he spend so much time staring at Gojyo, lately? Masochism, again; fascination with that which can hurt you?
Watching Gojyo smoking, talking around his smoke. At one point he said Whoa, it’s warm and took off his jacket and flirted with the waitress who was bringing more of that fabulous sake and shit, why, why was Sanzo watching him, like watching for signs that he might leave again at any time? When just last week he’d hoped feared never to have to look at him again?
“Oi, Baldy, what are you looking at?” Gojyo asked at one point, with his stupid leering grin.
“I’m going to kill you all,” Sanzo mumbled, happily. He poured sake with one hand, and the other he used to fondle his pistol, fingers comfortably numb as they met the cold metal of the hammer, the trigger. Sanzo didn’t know why people told him he was a mean drunk. He was feeling almost complacent.
***
“Dude’s kinda cranky, ain’t he?” Wan asked.
“Hell, yeah,” Gojyo said.
What a weird night, Gojyo thought. Normally he’d have shooed yokels like this right off, but tonight, for some reason, he felt like yanking Sanzo’s chain. Watching Sanzo deal with the kind of attention he hated, watching him be as offputting as possible to someone who wasn’t Gojyo. And Sanzo particularly hated being mistaken for a chick. Some hot button from his past. Gojyo wasn’t sure if he would push that one himself or not, but he didn’t mind watching.
And as far as yokels went, Zhan and Wan weren’t all that bad. They were pretty damned funny, actually, once you got to know ‘em. Or had a few drinks. Or both. Of course, Gojyo wasn’t the one they’d insulted, per se. Even with his long hair, he never got mistaken for a chick.
Wan, though-- guy was maybe going a little too far. Gojyo wouldn’t have taken him for a homo, but damn, he was staring at Sanzo like there was no tomorrow.
Course, Gojyo could sympathize, ‘cause he was doing it, too. And he wasn’t a homo, either. He liked the ladies. Not that he hadn’t... explored other options. There had been that threesome that one time. But the chick had really wanted it; it had totally turned her on. And Gojyo hadn’t hated it, or anything...
Shit. Why was he thinking about that? Gojyo slammed another cup of sake, and smoked, and laughed at something Zhan said. And watched Wan watching Sanzo. And watched Sanzo watching him. He’d been doing that a lot, lately. It made Gojyo’s stomach wibble, and not in a bad way. It was like, after the events of the past couple of weeks, Sanzo was actually noticing Gojyo’s existence, other than as a landing-place for the harisen. So he stared back, whenever he got the chance, trying to figure it out.
It wasn’t a difficult thing to do. Sanzo was just too damned pretty for his own good. So pretty it was shocking until you got used to it. Though now and again even Gojyo found he hadn’t gotten used to it when he thought he had. He could get caught off guard, and look at him all over again, and be like, whoah-- feeling a little loopy just staring at him. Until Sanzo opened his mouth.
What was it Hakkai had said? Something like, Sanzo’s looks are in inverse proportion to his nature. Meaning, basically, that he looked so amazing that he had to be astonishingly nasty to make up for it.
Though he did have charisma. People just... wanted to be around him, anyway. And Gojyo had only lately realized something: Sanzo was intensely loyal, no matter how he tried to fake it or force it back down his throat like vomit. And Gojyo couldn’t stop himself; he must exploit it. Yank the chain, see how far he could pull it.
And it was funny. The more Gojyo drank, the better Sanzo looked. Or maybe it was that the more Sanzo drank, the better he looked. His cheeks were a little pink, his lips curled up in a weird, sensual little smile. Gojyo tried to look away. Back up at the waitress’s hooters, maybe, yeah, man this booze was good shit. Whoa, trouble-- Wan was leaning in a leetle too closely. He was in serious danger of getting Sanzo’s five-shooter shoved down his throat.
“Dude, I know you’re a dude, but you’re still kinda cute,” Wan slurred. He put one arm around Sanzo’s shoulders, and his free hand on Sanzo’s thigh. “Girly monk.”
Gojyo had to step in. He wasn’t willing to let the chain be yanked that far. Besides, he could hear the hammer-click of Sanzo’s pistol, somewhere under the table. Gojyo had learned well to recognize that sound, no matter how much he drank.
“Dude!” he said to Wan. Shit, now he was doing it. “That’s our pretty monk. Paws off.”
“Gotscha,” Wan said, yanking his paws back. He laid a clumsy finger next to his nose and gave Gojyo a drunken, knowing look. “Gotscha. Dude.”
Gojyo waited to hear the hammer click back into place. There.
“Very good sake,” Hakkai said into the breach. Good old Hakkai, best friend a guy could ever have.
“Not,” Sanzo said.
“I disagree,” Hakkai replied.
“Me, too,” Gojyo said, slamming another cupful. Hakkai was on the job, and Gojyo could go back to enjoying and propagating his whopping buzz. And staring at Sanzo.
“Good food. Yum!” Goku put in his two yen.
“Not,” Sanzo said again. Now everyone was staring at him, so he clarified. “Not yours.”
“Uh huh,” Gojyo said, taking hold of the chain once more. Feeling very un-guilty, because he’d only been trying to help and all. “Already said it. Bastard’s too damned picky.”
“Fuck you,” Sanzo said.
“Hard to get?” Wan asked.
“Yeah,” Gojyo said, and ignored Hakkai’s like tenth warning look of the night. He was not only yanking the chain, he was going to push the button. “Hard like concrete, man. No touchy. Untouchable girly-ass monk.”
“Fuck you,” Sanzo said again, and Gojyo could swear he heard the click of the pistol over the buzzing in his ears, and he didn’t care because the bastard monk was such an asshole. “You are a pain in my ass.”
“You wish. Oh-holy-monk of Temple Prick-Tease,” Gojyo riposted.
“Aaaand I think it’s time for bed?” Hakkai said, in a bright and not-at-all-drunk voice. He hoicked an arm under Sanzo’s shoulder, pulling him up and off the bench. “Goku, would you grab Gojyo’s jacket for me? And Gojyo?”
“Yeah...” Goku said, sending a longing look at the scant remainders of their food. Poor monkey, thought Gojyo. It had been all his, too. This was all Sanzo’s fault.
“Bye,” Gojyo waved at Zhan-dude and Wan-dude, who were staring with bleary eyes at the remains of the sake and looking as if they might like to puke. And he let Goku help him up the rickety old stairs to their rooms, while Hakkai, Jeep on his shoulder (where the hell had he come from all of a sudden?), supported Sanzo, who was weaving on his feet and mumbling under his breath. Who am I rooming with again? Oh, yeah. Shit. Sanzo. Well, at least Gojyo could argue with him in private, tell him what he really thought, without best-friend-to-all-Hakkai mediating. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’ll do. Wish I’d brought some sake, and where are my cigarettes?
Hakkai got the door unlocked and open, and half-carried Sanzo into the room. But he didn’t leave, just watched Sanzo standing there in the middle of the room, staring at Gojyo from beneath his bangs.
“And who you calling girly?” Sanzo said, continuing some conversation from earlier.
“You, ya lousy monk,” Gojyo said, glad to get an early start to the feud, Hakkai or no Hakkai. He was on a happy, loosened-tongue, hot-button-pushing roll now, by golly. “Untouchable, girly-ass monk, I think were my words.”
“Ha. To you, especially, you fuckin’ pervert.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Man, this felt good.
“Untouch. Able,” Sanzo said, none too steadily.
“Gojyo,” Hakkai said.
“There you go, shutting me down. Half of China,” Gojyo said, ignoring Hakkai, and hoping he made sense. He took a couple of steps forward, trying to look Sanzo in the eye. Damned blonde hair, it was all over the place. Gojyo resisted the urge to brush it out of the way. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, bombshell, challenge and all.”
“I’m not your fucking challenge.”
“Yeah. Can’t say I never tried, though.” Gojyo decided it was true. What else had he been doing, since the moment he’d met this fucking lousy monk, than trying to chip away at the wall of ice a little? Get him to pay fucking attention? He’d managed it, a bit, somewhere on a clifftop, a couple of weeks ago.
“Fuck,” Sanzo said, and raised an arm with a fist attached to it, and held it in the air at Gojyo-face-height. It wobbled a little. “You never really tried. You wouldn’t dare. You’re just as full of bullshit as ever.”
“Oh yeah?” Gojyo said, and didn’t resist the next urge he had. He brushed the clumsy punch aside, then locked his arms around Sanzo to keep the guns and fists out of the equation, and kissed him.
Weird. Sanzo looked like stone, and he acted like stone, but his mouth was just as soft and warm as anybody’s. No, warmer, Gojyo decided. Not too shabby. Sanzo tasted like cigarettes, and sake, which is what Gojyo was sure he tasted like, too. Still. It was Sanzo. Gojyo took a few moments to appreciate the strangeness of it all, the room spinning from the sake and whatever.
Gojyo just went with it and took the next logical step, though in this case it might be considered foolish: he snuck a tongue between those softer-than-expected lips. Maybe it was just him but was Sanzo kissing him back? Whatever the case, it sure felt pretty fucking amazing. For a dude and all. He wondered how long he might be saying ‘dude’ before he finally broke the habit. Man, this was fun. Sanzo wasn’t fighting at all. Dude, he liked it. So did Gojyo.
“Uh. Gojyo?” came Hakkai’s questioning voice. Gojyo had completely forgotten about their audience. “I think Sanzo’s passed out.”
“Mm?” Gojyo said, pulling away and looking down. Sanzo just sort of hung there, eyes closed, unmoving. Shit, was he? Either Gojyo was that good, or Sanzo really was passed out. Gojyo hardly felt drunk anymore; he was gobsmacked. He said the first thing that came to mind. “Huh. I sorta wondered why I wasn’t dead yet.”
He let go of Sanzo, who sort of just flopped back onto the bed
“That. Was weird,” came Goku’s voice. Gojyo turned to look at him. The monkey was wide-eyed, staring back and forth between the passed-out-Sanzo and the really-stupid-feeling-Gojyo.
“Goku, you can take Gojyo with you. Night, all,” Hakkai said, smiling his most scary smile ever and sitting on the Sanzo-free bed.
“Kyuu,” the little dragon called, perching himself on Hakkai’s shoulder.
Gojyo shook his head, and when the room spun he put a hand on his cheek to stop it. “This is my room! Don’t worry, I’m not a monk molester or anything.” He looked down at Sanzo again, sprawled on the bed. “At least, not usually.”
Goku went out the door, then looked back in at Gojyo. “Dude, are you like an ass-pirate or something? Cause dude, I really wanna just sleep.”
“Don’t say ‘dude,’” Gojyo told him, and followed him out the door.
***
Sanzo wasn’t quite passed out. Close to it, but not quite. He’d just been too drunk to punch straight or shoot straight, and too damned surprised at how far Gojyo had been willing to go, and so he’d taken the easy way out and faked it. When had Gojyo grown those testicles? Usually, he ducked from the harisen, for fuck’s sake.
Sanzo was pissed off, no doubt about it. But he wasn’t sure if he was more pissed off that Gojyo had done such a thing, or that he, Sanzo, hadn’t hated it. Physical stuff was just too messy.
Dimly he could feel Hakkai shifting him on the bed, taking off his Maten scripture, could hear the ruffling noise as Hakkai carefully rolled it up and stowed it somewhere. Hakkai’s sigh, like what do I do now? Hakkai digging through his robes to pull out his gun and set it on the nightstand so that Sanzo wouldn’t shoot himself or anyone else in his sleep. Hakkai, now, Hakkai could be trusted not to try any of that stupid, messy shit that was just too interesting for its own good. Where are my cigarettes and why is the bed moving and will I fall over and make an ass of myself when I stand up?
It must have been some time later when Sanzo next thought about getting up to look for his smokes; the lights were out and he could hear Hakkai breathing in his sleep. Sanzo must have passed out for real. Still dizzy, he raised his head from the pillow. No, the other bed was empty and it wasn’t Hakkai; someone was moving around in the room.
Sanzo reached for his gun and missed and fell out of the bed instead. He heard someone say dude, grab him! and he felt his arms being held behind his back, and something was tied around his mouth so he couldn’t yell, and something slammed into his skull and he thought, I didn’t need that and fuck I’m going to have a headache, bastards and then he passed out again.
***
When Sanzo next awoke it was daytime. He was somewhere inside but there was light, coming from under the door and through some cracks in the walls. Each beam shining through was like a dagger into his skull; he’d been right about that headache.
And he couldn’t do more than moan. Someone had gagged him and tied his hands behind his back, around something-- a pillar, perhaps. He was standing, sort of. He wished they’d at least put a bag over his head, so that the goddamn sunlight wouldn’t kill him before he could kill anyone else. Or that they’d at least laid him down so he wouldn’t have to suffer upright.
On the other hand, with his eyes free he could look around, much as it hurt, to see if anyone else was in the room. He appeared to be alone; no Hakkai captured with him, no captors watching to see when he might wake. But he could hear their voices in the next room.
“Dude, are you sure that scripture’s not on him? Would you know it if you saw it?”
“Dude, yeah, he was wearing it last night.”
“Shit. It was worth a lot to those youkai dudes, too.”
“You wanna come look for yourself?”
Shit, Sanzo thought. They’d completely let their guards down. Sanzo had completely let his guard down, because the innkeeper had sworn that there were no youkai anywhere near their town, and because Sanzo had been tired and focused on his own stupid, useless thoughts and worries that had nothing to do with their mission. This is all Gojyo’s fault, he thought with plenty of satisfaction. Gojyo the pervert. Who knew what he was doing, at least when it came to shoving his tongue down someone’s throat. Sanzo pushed the thought away.
The door opened and-- what were their names? Zhan and Wan?-- entered. Along with a third man, just as tall and bumpkin-ish as the first two. Fuck. How had they been fooled by idiots like these?
They-- Sanzo remembered again that he wasn’t alone on this holy trip. Surely, someone would come along soon. Hakkai, or Goku-- the sober, trustworthy ones. Well, Hakkai was trustworthy, at least. Not that the monkey couldn’t be trusted. He’d made himself useful at times. Sanzo thought he might even be happy to see Goku right about now.
That thought, strangely, made Sanzo feel better. He stood a little straighter and faced the three men who’d come into the room. Then he remembered how the one guy had been staring at him last night. He hoped someone in his little demon-ikkou showed up soon.
Still, he could put up a good front, at least. “This must be Yan,” he said, forgetting he was gagged. It came out sounding less disdainful than he might have hoped, sounding something like mmph mph meeph mamph.
“Where’s your scripture?” the new one, Yan-possibly, said.
“Mmph moomph.”
They didn’t have time to translate that fuck you, though, because a crash sounded from another room. It sounded like a wooden door slamming open. Sanzo thought it was a very good noise.
Zhan, Wan and Yan didn’t seem to think so. Their eyes widened and they turned to look through the open door behind them. Sanzo could see something like a metal glint that whipped through the air and whoomph, knocked them all down in succession. Goku’s nyoi-bou, perhaps?
Then Sanzo heard a metal scraping, like a chain snaking along a metal pole. Shit. Of all his rescuers, why did it have to be this one?
Sanzo’s worst nightmare appeared in the door, holding a shakou-jou and slamming its end onto the floor in some sort of dramatic-fucking-pose. “Oi. Is that you, Sanzo?”
“Mmph moomph.”
“Fuck me?” At least Gojyo could interpret correctly. “And after I’m the lucky one who found you? I can just leave you here, you know, you prick of a monk. Let Hakkai or Goku find you sometime later today.”
Sanzo rolled his eyes, letting Gojyo know that plan of action was fine by him.
“Nah, I’d never hear the end of it,” Gojyo said, coming into the room to stand by Sanzo. He looked disgustingly perky and non-hung-over. He reached behind Sanzo’s head and untied the gag, none too gently. It was like he knew that Sanzo’s head hurt like a sonofabitch.
The gag fell from Sanzo’s face and he rolled his sandpaper-tongue around in his mouth, trying to work some moisture back into it. “You could have untied my hands first, asshole,” Sanzo said, voice rough.
“Hell, no. Not until I’m sure you’re not going to kill me,” Gojyo replied with his stupid white-toothed grin. He reached out a long-fingered hand to run it through Sanzo’s hair, and over his shoulders.
“What the fuck are you doing? I’m going to fucking kill you,” Sanzo said, straining against the binds and the pillar, straining away from that gentle hand. Fucking pervert isn’t going to molest me here, is he? Sanzo wondered, then immediately wondered why the idea didn’t sound as horrible as it might have. He didn’t want to think about it. At least he could have some water first, get the sake-smoke-cloth taste out of his mouth. Then a cigarette. Sweet, sweet nicotine.
“Just checking to see if you’re bleeding, you dick,” Gojyo said. Then Gojyo read his mind. He pulled out a flask and held it to Sanzo’s lips. “Have a drink. It’s just water. You probably feel like shit. You look like shit.”
“Untie me,” Sanzo demanded, turning his head away.
“Not yet, Martyr-chan,” Gojyo said. He splashed a little water on Sanzo’s face anyway and then tucked the flask away and set his hands on his hips. “Want to talk to you first.”
Sanzo kicked him.
“Ouch! That hurt, you bastard.”
“Good.”
“Do I gotta tie your legs up, too?”
“Don’t you dare,” Sanzo growled.
Gojyo moved in close, standing between Sanzo’s legs where they could do the least damage. He just stared at Sanzo, eyes intent and ruby-like in the dark room.
“Listen, du-- man. I’m sorry if I-- uh. I might have gone too far last night. Don’t know if you remember. But there. Anyway.”
“Sure as hell you did. And I’m still going to kill you,” Sanzo said. But he realized that his threat didn’t have the impact it might have under other circumstances, because he was tied up and Gojyo was standing very close and Sanzo was staring at his lips. He licked his own, catching the droplets of water Gojyo had splashed around his face. Gojyo watched him do it. He grinned his slyest grin. Oh, shit.
“Reeeally,” Gojyo drawled. He pointed a finger at Sanzo’s chest. “So you do remember. You asshole. You just let me look like an idiot. You liked it, didn’t you?”
“Tch,” Sanzo said, wanting to look away from those intent eyes and finding himself unable to. Gojyo was getting too close to something Sanzo didn’t want him to know.
“Aaaaand. If I’m gonna die anyway, might as well do it again. Earn it, ya might say.” The finger at Sanzo’s chest trailed down a few inches, resting somewhere by his hip. Other fingers joined it, pressing into his flesh. Gojyo’s face leaned forward, inexorably closer, and he kissed Sanzo again.
Sanzo always had low blood pressure in the mornings, even when he wasn’t hung over. That had to be the reason he didn’t try to fight it, or bite Gojyo’s tongue off, though he vaguely thought about it. What else could he do? He wanted to be rescued at some point.
Yeah, right. Sanzo tried to focus on the pain in his skull but all he could feel were the fingers squeezing his hip and the slippery-rough and wet tongue sliding around in his mouth, and he could taste something fresh, and he realized that Gojyo had fucking had time to brush his teeth and Sanzo hadn’t but it wasn’t stopping the bastard from enjoying it, was it, at least based on the soft breathing sounds he made into Sanzo’s mouth.
And hell, yeah he must be a masochist, because he was enjoying it, too, and if he hadn’t been tied up he never would have allowed it in the first place. Wouldn’t have allowed Gojyo to press so close that Sanzo could feel his whole, lean body, and fuck, it was warm. Gojyo’s shakou-jou fell to the floor with a wooden-metal clonk and Gojyo’s other hand rested at Sanzo’s shoulder, toying with the edges of the robe at his neck. And still, those wide lips and fresh-tasting tongue didn’t stop their slow, insistent movements. To Sanzo’s intense humiliation, he moaned.
“Sanzo,” Gojyo whispered into his mouth.
And Sanzo’s lower half joined in the humiliation party, little aches and twitches building tensely in his belly. If Gojyo wanted to work out his frustrations on him, then Sanzo would prefer punches, hits, something he could withstand and hate. Not this tender sort of unrelenting worship. Sanzo’s brain suddenly imagined Gojyo hitting him and kissing him at the same time, and moaned again. He would kill Gojyo, and then himself. He was completely gay. Or something. Shit.
Sanzo wasn’t the only one who moaned. Somewhere across the room, the three morons began to stir.
“Duu....ude,” one of them said.
“Fuck.” Gojyo let go of Sanzo and stood back, staring at Sanzo with an idiotic expression for a few moments. Then he shook his head and picked up his weapon. “Gotta take care of these guys a little better.”
Gojyo didn’t kill them, just gave each of them another good thwack on the head to knock them out again. And still he didn’t untie Sanzo, who couldn’t even offer his opinion but only stand there breathing heavily like a moron, but grunted and dragged the three one-by-one into a closet. Finally he slammed the door behind them, then rubbed his hands and looked at Sanzo.
“Where were we?” he said, grinning unsteadily.
***
“You son of a bitch,” Sanzo told him.
“Yeah, I know,” Gojyo admitted, and looked at Sanzo slumping there against that pillar, and wondered what to do next. What he should do was untie the unholy-ass monk and then run like hell to get help. Hakkai would protect him.
But Gojyo just pulled his arms out of his jacket anyway, and let it drop to the floor, and went over to stand between Sanzo’s legs again.
“Motherfucker,” Sanzo told him, pretty face screwing up into a really good sneer.
“Nah, that’s my dad and my brother. You can just call me bastard,” Gojyo said, and laughed, almost giddy. He was taking this one way too far, he knew. But it was just too cool. How long had he thought about doing something like this? He couldn’t stop now.
He was a homo, after all. And Sanzo, the fuck, was enjoying it. It was so amazing, having Sanzo tied up here like this and liking it, and Gojyo liking doing it to him; the power had gone to his head, awoken something in him. He didn’t really care what happened later, as long as he finished what he was doing now. Quickly. Before Hakkai and Goku or anyone else found them. Once again, this was between him and the monk. A recent concept, but a fascinating one.
Quickly. Gojyo didn’t waste any more time but grabbed Sanzo’s waist again and put his other hand inside the robe at his chest, and kissed him. This time he wasn’t all sweet and gentle; he let Sanzo know what he was in for.
He could feel one of Sanzo’s boots at his calf, trying to kick him over from the side, but ignored it, comfortable in the powerful knowledge that Sanzo would give up any time now. Gojyo slipped his hand further inside the robe, brushing against the black silk at Sanzo’s chest. Geez, he was warm, and he could feel Sanzo’s heart, thumping against his palm.
“Stop it,” Sanzo said, or something like it, in a harsh voice.
“Nope,” Gojyo told him, sealing their fates. “It’s your fault I’m all gay or something, now, you shitty monk.”
Gojyo cut off Sanzo’s reply by putting his nose in Sanzo’s ear and shoving his tongue against his slightly-stubbled chin, hard enough to feel the pulse beating there in tandem with the one under Gojyo’s fingers.
Sanzo only moaned again.
Gojyo let his hand move down and across between them, feeling the muscles in Sanzo’s chest jumping and twitching with his hitched breaths. The boot thumping at his leg stilled, resting pressed against his calf. How did Sanzo’s hair smell so good, after the night they’d had?
Quickly, yeah right. Gojyo stopped trying to give Sanzo a hickey and used both hands to untie his monkly robes and pull them open. He stilled any protest Sanzo might have made by kissing him again, and damn if Sanzo didn’t taste like stale sake and smoke and fucking sunshine.
Gojyo slid his fingers into the waistband of Sanzo’s jeans, down until they stopped touching silk and met the warm skin of his hips. And he felt something else: something hard pressing against his stomach, something which told him that yeah, Sanzo was enjoying this, indeedy.
And Gojyo, as ever, couldn’t just shut up and do his job but had to say whatever came into his brain. Like Hakkai said: straight from mind to mouth, yes, that was Sha Gojyo.
“Is that a pistol in your jeans or are you just happy to see-- Ouch!”
Sanzo had kicked him again, in the knee. “Don’t even say something so moronic to me.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Gojyo said and shut Sanzo and himself up again by shoving his tongue down the other man’s throat. Because he certainly wasn’t complaining, was feeling pretty damned aroused himself. Sso gay right now. He pressed his stiff cock into Sanzo’s belly, and moaned himself at how awesome it felt there.
He snuck a hand between them to undo the button on Sanzo’s jeans, then pulled them down and gripped Sanzo’s ass hard with his fingers, shoving the two of them even more tightly together.
Welp, Sanzo was definitely no girl but his flesh felt great between Gojyo’s fingers. Sanzo’s shoulders bumped his like he was straining to get his arms free, either to hold Gojyo or throttle him, Gojyo didn’t know. But there was no way Gojyo was untying him now. First he was going to make this beautiful, asshole monk very mind-blowingly glad he was tied up. And later, he, Gojyo, was going to die, very likely very horribly.
He knew what he was going to do. Now he just had to do it. Gojyo had to think for a moment, something difficult to do in this situation: he could do this, give a blowjob, right? Hopefully. Well, he’d sorta done it before and had certainly had it done to himself plenty of times. It couldn’t be that difficult to get it right.
He slid his hands down the outside of Sanzo’s thighs, and let the rest of him follow, tasting the stubble at Sanzo’s chin and the silk of his shirt and the sweat beading at the little blond hairs at his navel and whoa, there was Sanzo’s cock, bigger than Gojyo might have suspected for such a thin guy, twitching with each ragged breath Sanzo took.
Was he really going to put that into his mouth? Hell, yeah, if only to let the monk know who was in control here. The thought of it all made his own cock twitch, tight in his jeans with how erotic it all was.
“Don’t,” Sanzo said from somewhere above him, almost desperate-sounding.
“Too late,” Gojyo said and just wrapped his lips around the tip of it. Oh yeah, now he remembered that taste, except it was Sanzo, here, Sanzo the holier-than-thou prettiest monk in all Buddist-dom, the one who cared for all of them and protected them despite himself.
“Ah!” Sanzo said, sharply and quickly, jerking a little, and Gojyo thought he might just be in love.
He pulled his lips off with a bit of a smack, thinking about how long he might take to do this if he felt like it. He could take all day, and Sanzo would love it and hate it at the same time. And man, that was an erotic fucking thought.
Then he remembered that he should be in a hurry, because Goku and Hakkai could show up at any time. So he curled his fingers back under Sanzo’s testicles, warm damp flesh with small tickling hairs, and slid the cock into his mouth again, this time with intent.
Sanzo’s hips jerked again and Gojyo choked. Eyes watering, he backed off just a bit, and heard a broken sort of laugh escape Sanzo’s throat. Gojyo looked up and Sanzo’s eyes were screwed shut, and his mouth was screwed as well into a grim smile.
Well, Gojyo would show him. He squeezed his balls and slid his mouth around the pitching flesh again, this time relaxing his throat, in and out, in and out a few times until Sanzo’s mouth hung open, slack-jawed, and there, how did he like that?
Gojyo did it a couple more times for good measure, pulling down Sanzo’s jeans to his knees with his free hand. And oh yeah, he remembered something else he could do. He released Sanzo’s balls and shoved his finger into his mouth alongside Sanzo’s cock, licking it, then nudged it back into the little opening of Sanzo’s ass. It was tight, but he got the slicked finger in.
“Fucking bastard,” Sanzo breathed.
“Hm?” Gojyo asked, because his mouth was full, and he looked up. Sanzo’s face was definitely pink now, and all shining. He looked better mid-blowjob than he did after a few sakes. Fucking amazing. Gojyo was definitely in love.
“Don’t worry,” Gojyo said, but his was still full so it sounded like “momph momph,” and he pushed his finger up, then another, looking for the right muscle and jackpot-- he knew he’d found it because Sanzo actually whimpered went all slack, sagging against the wooden pillar. It was brought home again with amazing clarity that he was kneeling here with Sanzo’s cock in his mouth, and the billowy robe and all the defenses were down, and Sanzo had no free arms to do anything about it, and that he wouldn’t want to anyway. He was more vulnerable in that moment than Gojyo had ever seen him. Even lying in a pool of blood, Sanzo always had a wall up around him, a wall Gojyo could only scrabble at pathetically and never actually climb.
Now Gojyo had obliterated that wall into dust. In fact, it looked like Sanzo might fall down completely and Gojyo was all aching and throbbing-hard himself, itching to get even closer. A daring thought occurred him, about what he might do if he was willing to take it all the way. Well, the daring thought re-occurred to him, because he’d totally thought about it before, only usually when he was alone or like maybe all last night.
But he hesitated: it was like he’d opened a can of worms and didn’t know how to fish. Only hesitated for a second. There was no time like the present.
Except, he realized then through his own haze of crazy ideas and flesh-warm-Sanzo-lust that he couldn’t do what he wanted, because he had nothing on him but spit and water, and that wouldn’t work. He wanted to screw Sanzo, not kill him. Man, he was going to make a terrible homo, forgetting shit like that.
Well, once he finished the blowjob, then he’d have at least a useable lube. Problem solved. And people accused Gojyo of being stupid.
Course set, he curled his finger forward again, gave a few hard sucks and oh, shit, Sanzo cried out and climaxed and Gojyo was going to choke again. So he pulled out his finger, and spit into his palm.
Gojyo stood, patting Sanzo’s ass as he did so and probably earning himself an even more horrible death in the near future. He kissed Sanzo on the corner of his open mouth. Sanzo was gorgeous, all sweaty and eyes unfocused. Gojyo had done this, Gojyo, Gojyo, Gojyo.
“Gonna need that,” Gojyo joked. He was surprised to find his voice was unsteady with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t separate or identify. They were all mixed in there together: lust, tenderness, pride-- awe, even. He wanted to yell, I did that! Look what I did, all by myself! Acknowledge me! Love me! But he didn’t.
Sanzo’s purple eyes focused. “You wouldn’t fucking dare,” he breathed, voice even more unsteady than Gojyo’s.
“Oh yeah, I fucking would.” He stuck one foot between Sanzo’s legs, then stepped the other through, so that he was shoved up against Sanzo with Sanzo’s jeans hanging behind him. And it was a good thing he’d lost weight recently or he’d never have been able to drop his own jeans with one hand. Could Sanzo possibly realize how much Gojyo wanted him right now? Gojyo would never tell him.
And Sanzo didn’t’ fight him at all as he hooked a hand under Sanzo’s knee and lifted him, lopsidedly, locking it on his own hip. The handful of semen he spread along Sanzo’s ass and his own pulsing cock, and he took a second to marvel that he was using Sanzo’s semen on his cock, and love me, that felt so good, was the most erotic possible thing ever.
Once his hand was relatively empty he grabbed Sanzo’s other knee and yanked it up, pressing Sanzo’s back against the pillar and pressing in to hold him against it. He shoved his erection against Sanzo’s semi-slicked hole, and it was hot and tight and man, that felt great.
“That hurts, motherfucker,” Sanzo said. His tone was surprisingly mild, like they were having a conversation about which route to take west or about groceries or something. Apparently Sanzo had realized that it was just going to happen and had either resigned himself to it, or was going to enjoy it. Gojyo hoped-- and then knew-- it was the latter, based on the glittery sort of lustful, hooded look in Sanzo’s eyes. And the way he went sort of limp.
“Just relax, du-- man,” Gojyo said, and hoisted the knees a little higher-- ah, there, now he had a clear shot, and it was tight, but he’d just have to go for it.
“Ah!” came the cry from Sanzo’s throat the same time as the one from Gojyo’s.
“Dozzit hurt?” Gojyo mumbled, burying his face in Sanzo’s hair, feeling all things Sanzo Sanzo Sanzo surrounding him.
“Yeah,” came Sanzo’s strained voice, warm breaths tickling Gojyo’s ear and sending shivery chills streaking through his body. “Will it matter?”
“No,” Gojyo said, and meant it, and miracle of miracles, Sanzo went even more limp against the pillar, and Gojyo could move, slow, steady, but it was still fucking tight and good, and sweat was rolling down Gojyo’s neck and he could taste sweat behind Sanzo’s ear.
“Sanzo,” he whispered again, and Sanzo’s reply was a grunting breath.
Gojyo lost track of minutes, was counting time in breaths, his. And Sanzo’s. Sanzo didn’t say anything, just breathed, short little ahs into Gojyo’s shoulder. Gojyo briefly lost spirit; was Sanzo hating it, was he just hanging there waiting for it to be over, and was Gojyo doing the most completely wrong thing ever?
The answer to that was no; Gojyo was doing something right because he could feel Sanzo’s cock twitching around his stomach. So he released one knee to grab hold of it, do anything to make Sanzo happy, though he could never let Sanzo know that. And Sanzo didn’t fall because he kept his own legs locked around Gojyo’s hips as he thrust and Gojyo was so happy he wanted to cry.
“Sanzo,” he whispered pathetically, yet again, and moved faster, hips and fingers, into the solid reality of Sanzo’s body, against the solid wooden pillar. And he was coiled too tight, and in too tight, and the friction was too rough and grinding and he thought he must be hurting Sanzo and just as he began to not care, he came, short, angry stabs.
All Gojyo’s limbs were shaking and feeble; he wanted to collapse but he kept his hand moving just a little longer until he felt Sanzo’s second climax running down his stomach. Love me! And then he could just flop forward, face buried in Sanzo’s half-silk-clad, half-bare and sweaty shoulder, and breathe for real, great gasping heaves.
Sanzo put up with that for a few moments before struggling a little in Gojyo’s embrace, and Gojyo realized he was probably crushing the poor guy. So he untangled himself from Sanzo and stepped back.
Sanzo hung his face so only his blond hair showed, gleaming in the little streaks of sunlight that managed to stab their way through the room.. His jeans were still down, his arms were still tied back, and he looked so pathetic, so used, that Gojyo felt stabs of guilt like sunlight on his dark, dark soul. What in the hell had he just done?
Then he remembered that Sanzo had enjoyed it as much as Gojyo had. The evidence still showed on both of them. Gojyo had that to hold onto, at least. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t restore some of the monk’s dignity. Gojyo kneeled down and tugged Sanzo’s jeans to his waistline, and even buttoned them. He gave Sanzo’s stomach a pat, and risked a glance up under the fringe of yellow-white bangs.
Sanzo spotted his stare and pulled up his chin. “Are you going to untie me now?”
“Um,” Gojyo said. He supposed he ought to. First, though, he was going to pull up his own jeans and put on his jacket. He did that. Then he decided he was going to stand by the door, and cut Sanzo’s ties with the blade on the shakou-jou at its fullest extension.
Sanzo seemed to read his mind. “Don’t even think about running away.”
“I wasn’t!” Gojyo lied. And to prove his own courage, shitloads of which he’d seemed to have twenty minutes ago and none of which he had now, he walked around the other side of the wooden pillar to loosen the ties. He noticed, then, the splinters in the wood, and the way Sanzo’s wrists had been rubbed raw against it, skin red and bleeding slightly. Shit. Gojyo pulled out the last knot.
Sanzo merely stepped forward one or two paces, moaning as he brought his arms forward and rubbed at his wrists. Gojyo hung back, shaking just a little.
Crack! Sanzo’s fist hitting his jaw was more of a surprise to Gojyo than he’d thought it would be. He fell back on his ass and waited for the rest of the blows to fall. Then he looked up when they didn’t.
Now Sanzo was pacing a bit, rubbing his knuckles as well as his wrists.
“I guess I deserved that,” Gojyo said.
“Like fuck you did. Tch,” Sanzo said, and shook his head.
Man, Gojyo was getting off easy. So that’s what Sanzo liked. Gojyo had enjoyed the whole episode immensely, and had fully expected the punishment to meet the absolute bliss of being all over Sanzo like that. Shit, he loved that man. He would invest in handcuffs. “Don’t tell Hakkai.”
“How stupid are you, that you might possibly think that I would ever tell Hakkai something like that.”
Gojyo just shrugged, and let the bliss steal through his veins all over again. He smiled a moron’s smile up at Sanzo.
“Tch,” Sanzo said. “Got any smokes? Mine were left in the room.”
“Uh, yeah. ‘Course,” Gojyo said, somewhat stupidly. He pulled his pack out of his jacket pocket, stuck two in his mouth and lit them both at once, then proffered one to Sanzo.
Sanzo took the smoke without words and shoved it between his lips. He inhaled, and blew smoke out his nose with a look that might have reached Gojyo’s level of blissful. Then he walked over and opened the door where the cretins were stored, and looked in. “Didn’t even tie them up, idiot,” he said, then closed the closet and kicked it, and stomped out of the room. He called back without looking, “get cleaned up, and then you can tell me where Hakkai and Goku are.”
“Yes, sir,” Gojyo said, and giggled like an idiot girl.
***
The tobacco smoke was like a wind sent from Nirvana, coiling through Sanzo’s lungs, relaxing every nerve in his body. He stood outside and breathed only smoke for a whole minute before looking down and realizing that he needed to clean up as well. Nobody ever said gay love wasn’t messy. Shit.
He dunked his hand in a nearby rainwater bucket and splashed his arms. It was a cool morning but his temperature was up, cheeks hot like he was sitting next to a campfire. So he splashed his face for good measure. His shirt and jeans would have to wait; he didn’t want anything to look more suspicious than it already did. And wet spots would definitely look suspicious. He straightened his robe and looked up and down the street, getting his bearings. He refused to think about what had happened.
It was difficult not to, though. And his legs were still a bit jelly-like and his ass still hurt. What the hell had the damned idiot kappa been thinking, executing a ravishment without being prepared? Next time, Sanzo would be sure to-- well, except there wasn’t going to be a next time.
Tch, Sanzo said to himself, boot grinding the cigarette filter into the cobbles under his feet. At least his hangover was gone, anyway. He could try to forget what Gojyo had done-- what he had allowed Gojyo to do. How he’d completely lost it, how completely he’d been able to enjoy it. Helpless, but unafraid. Gratified and yet unnerved. It was a mixture of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He hadn’t known what he wanted until it was handed to him.
He decided he didn’t want to wait for Gojyo after all. He started walking down the empty, early-morning street, anywhere, away from that house. A block away he remembered that he didn’t have any cigarettes. Or his card to buy smokes. Shit. He’d been in such a hurry to leave escape that he hadn’t even searched the three An-brothers-or-whatever for his possessions.
He’d have to go back. To the place-he-wanted-to-forget.
“Sanzo! Sanzo!”
He turned around. It was Goku, tearing down the street at him, wearing one of his hugest, dopiest smiles.
“Hmph,” Sanzo greeted him.
“Sanzo!” Goku caught up with him and started to grab at the sleeve of Sanzo’s robe, then stopped and just bounced back and forth on his heels. “Sanzo, where were you? What happened? We’ve been looking for you! I haven’t even had breakfast yet!”
“Worried about your stomach, were you?” Sanzo asked. He felt almost charitable towards the little monkey. Probably because he was not-Gojyo. “Where’s Hakkai?”
“He’s coming. I thought he was right behind me! I must’ve outrun him. We split up to search for you, but then Hakkai convinced the innkeeper to give us some more information--”
Sanzo could just bet that Hakkai had convinced the innkeeper. He’d probably smiled at him.
“--and it turns out that he told us to go where we’d already sent Gojyo, so here we are!” Goku was still grinning like he’d just been handed a mountain of meat buns. “Um. You haven’t seen Gojyo, have you? Um. He was being kind of weird last night--”
“Oi, Monkey, what took you so long?”
The subject under discussion was shambling his way down the street toward them. He was walking like he didn’t have a care in the world, long-legged and supple. Sanzo looked the other way.
“Dude, Gojyo, what happened to your face?”
At that, Sanzo had to turn and look. The right side of Gojyo’s chin was turning a lovely shade of pinkish-purple. Sanzo smiled inside, just a little.
“I told you not to say ‘Dude,’ Dude,” Gojyo said, grinning.
Goku snickered. Then he looked at Sanzo. Then he looked back at Gojyo’s chin. He seemed to reach a conclusion. “Well, if everything’s all good, then, can we eat when Hakkai gets here? I’m hungry!”
Gojyo ruffled the boy’s hair. “Bottomless pit of a monkey.”
“Perverted water sprite!”
“Hell yeah, I am.” He didn’t look at Sanzo when he said it.
A familiar mechanical rumbling noise made them all turn. And there were the last two members of Sanzo’s little party, tooling down the street.
“Hello Sanzo. I’m glad to see you’re safe,” Hakkai said when they pulled up. He looked at the others. “You’ll need to put something on that chin, Gojyo, or it will only get worse.” If he thought anything else, he didn’t say it. Good old sensible Hakkai.
It turned out that Hakkai had nipped downstairs to get food when Sanzo had been taken. And hadn’t worried right away, because, well, Sanzo did what Sanzo wanted. Hakkai didn’t apologize too profusely and didn’t need to, because he had in his safe possession the Maten scripture and Sanzo’s gun and smokes and credit card, among other things. Gojyo and Sanzo updated Hakkai on the situation with the three attackers.
“They said something about youkai wanting the scripture,” Sanzo told him.
“Same old, same old,” Gojyo said.
Hakkai looked thoughtful. “What do you want to do?”
Sanzo thought about it. For about half a second.
“Get the hell out of here,” he said. “Now.”
“But it’s two days to the next town and we’ve been running around all morning and we haven’t had breakfast and I’m hungry!” Goku whined.
Hakkai gave Sanzo the look, that let’s-be-reasonable-look. “Shouldn’t we at least shop for some supplies first? If we’re going to camp out?”
The jeep made a small kyuu noise.
“Please please please?” Goku said, squeezing his hands together and flashing puppy-eyes in Sanzo’s direction.
“Aren’t you about out of smokes?” Gojyo said.
Sanzo was outvoted. When had this ikkou become a democracy? he wondered. For not the first time, lately.
“Fine. Make it quick.” He handed Hakkai his gold card. “Get me a carton of smokes.”
Goku jumped up and down again. “I’ll go with you to help you pick out the food, Hakkai!”
And they were off in the Jeep. Leaving Sanzo and Gojyo alone together, again. A new turn of events which had been repeating itself a lot, lately.
But Gojyo didn’t start any of his usual shit. He just leaned against the wall, one knee bent with his foot flat against it, and lit a smoke. So Sanzo did the same. They smoked in silence for a few almost companionable minutes.
After a while Gojyo turned to look at him. Sanzo waited for the idiocy to start. He seriously was not in the mood for any crap.
But the look on Gojyo’s face was strange; it was one that Sanzo couldn’t read. It was untinged with Gojyo’s usual smugness or confusion, perhaps a bit questioning but otherwise inscrutable. It wasn’t a look Sanzo was used to seeing on Gojyo. In fact, Sanzo found himself curious to find out what Gojyo had to say. Another new turn of events.
But Gojyo didn’t speak, just looked at Sanzo. And Sanzo looked back at him.
Sanzo wanted to say, what? But he didn’t.
Gojyo never asked the question, just blew smoke and then turned to stare straight ahead once more.
Tch, Sanzo said under his breath, and lit another cigarette.
Then Gojyo kicked off from the wall. “I gotta go pick something up,” he said, and walked off down the street without another word.
Sanzo just watched him go.
FINIS
Thanks for reading! Any and all comments are appreciated, good or bad-- I can take it. This is only my second Saiyuki fic (my first that wasn’t crack) and so I welcome your thoughts on the situation, characterizations, etc. :)
X-posted to
saiyuki, bad_friends, aff.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-12-09 04:04 pm (UTC)I hope you don't mind, but I've recc'ed it over at my LJ. I've also added you to my friend's list. I'm always looking for a new author to
stalkread. I sure hope you will continue to write Saiyuki.no subject
Date: 2007-12-09 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-09 11:06 pm (UTC)If I could recommend a few authors for Saiyuki fic it would definatly be
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 12:57 am (UTC)Very lovely piece and wonderfully in character.
This line was so very telling: "It was like, after the events of the past couple of weeks, Sanzo was actually noticing Gojyo’s existence, other than as a landing-place for the harisen."
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 04:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-08 04:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-08 07:14 pm (UTC)