jedishampoo | Fic: Bang Bang, My Weapon, Sanzo/Gojyo, NSFW

Title: Bang Bang, My Weapon
Author:

jedishampoo
Rating: NC-l7
Pairing: Sanzo/Gojyo
Summary: Sanzo can hold a grudge as long as he needs to.
Warnings: Some bondage, lots of bad language, s.e.x.
Author's notes: Written for

lillypuff in the

yuletide_smut exchange. The last of my stories written for that, woohoo! I tried writing this pairing differently from how I usually would with this one (i.e., Sanzo on top OMG), and it was a lot of fun (i.e., more violent than my usual). ;) Thanks to my beta

sharpeslass!

Sanzo woke to the sound of gunfire.

Adrenaline worked like Sanzo's old friend, the way it always worked: it only took a second, two perhaps, for him to go from being asleep on a straw pallet to standing upright. Two or three more to find his robe, draped on a hook and suspiciously lighter by about one steel barrel and six chambers.

Anger took over from panic, sharpening his slow-waking wits. The air was free of screams and thumps, so it was unlikely that a fight was going on. He was alone and barefoot in the straw, in the recently-abandoned barn they'd picked for a makeshift inn the night before. The yellow-white beams of sunlight stabbing through the ill-fitted slats of the barn walls had left dawn behind at least a couple hours before. Sanzo tched. He'd been sleeping too damned hard lately. Random bits of his body still twinged where his injuries hadn't quite healed.

Sanzo heard a few more shots, followed by hollow, tinny thunks. Someone outside was shooting at cans. There wasn't a fight. His gun was missing. That meant that one of his own people was playing with his gun. Nobody would dare... Except, maybe--

A few more seconds and a dash out the door confirmed his suspicion: it was Gojyo. The goddamned kappa was wearing a glee-filled grin and thumbing bullets into the chamber of Sanzo's gun. Gojyo rolled his wrist, slamming the chamber home, and took lazy aim at some cans sitting on top of a fence.

Sanzo, half-stupefied with amazement but at least three-quarters ready to kill, stomped in Gojyo's direction. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he yelled.

"Whoah!"

It had been a mistake to warn the idiot that he was coming: by the time Sanzo coiled his arm, Gojyo was ready. He caught Sanzo's fist and twisted with its momentum, then full-body-slammed Sanzo into the fence so hard his breath whooshed out and he couldn't immediately catch it back. Sanzo bent his knees and swung his free arm, trying to pummel something, anything, to break the hold. Gojyo only nabbed Sanzo's wrist with strong fingers and curled his leg around into a non-regulation but effective wrestler's lock. Sanzo ended up pressed against more Gojyo than fence.

"Hold up! Chill for a second. Geeze!"

"What the hell--? Are you trying to get killed? I will kill you--" Sanzo coughed, near-blind with rage and helplessness. Gojyo was stronger than Sanzo on a good day and this was a bad one; adrenaline or not, Sanzo still wasn't awake and he still hurt but, dammit, he'd kill Gojyo with his bare hands if he couldn't get his gun back in time...

"I was just practicing. No need to get your panties in a bunch, monk. I was doin' pretty good, too." Gojyo was trying to sound hurt but his words had a suspiciously prepared-excuse-speech sound. "You shoulda watched it 'stead of going off all pissy. I was hitting damn near every one--"

"You've got your own fucking weapon, so don't touch mine!" There was a satisfying thunk as the back of Sanzo's head met Gojyo's jaw.

"Ow!" Gojyo yelped. Sanzo's cheek smashed into the weathered, rough wood until he could feel it with his teeth; Gojyo was holding Sanzo's head still with his own chin. There were splintered holes in the fence, one right near Sanzo's eyeball, belying Gojyo's claim to aim. Gojyo's voice and breath were in his hair. "Practice never hurts. Who knows when I might have to use it again..."

"Never. You'll be dead," Sanzo said, and squirmed with all his strength, sore muscles straining until he thought they might snap. He stared pointedly at the tell-tale hole in the wall. "And you're a shitty shot. Get the hell off me!"

"Hah, not till I'm sure you can't kill me," Gojyo breathed. Sanzo felt his hands being rearranged behind him, arms twisted and pulled until his tendons screamed. Smooth metal, gunpowder-hot, nudged against the back of his neck. "I can't miss from here, so just calm the fuck down!"

Sanzo found himself pinned by the business end of his own gun, and found he hated the sensation. He'd never, never, suspected that Gojyo had the balls to do that. Especially the way he was doing it: teasingly, drawing little circles on that sensitive skin-- it had been a mistake to ever let him-- Sanzo's panic returned and he huffed in helplessness. "You'd never do it," he growled.

Gojyo's expelled hah tickled Sanzo's scalp. "If I had to, I would. I've learned self-preservation, Sanzo chaaaaan."

Whether Gojyo would shoot Sanzo or not was a moot point. The muzzle of a pistol had some real negotiating clout, and Sanzo knew his own gun well, knew its ultra-sensitive trigger. "Why?" he ground out.

"Wanted to see what it felt like to hit stuff on purpose. Wanted to try something new. Didn't feel like asking permission."

That had the ring of truth. Gojyo had done a shitty job the one time he'd been allowed to fire Sanzo's gun, and he'd probably been seething over that the whole two weeks since they'd nailed that Kami-Sama bastard. "You've got your own weapon," Sanzo repeated.

"Yeah. Feel it?" Now the current bastard was grinding his crotch into Sanzo's ass, taunting him and the motherfucker would die horribly, he couldn't be allowed to get away with that.... Gojyo laughed again. "That's got your attention, huh? Those're just bullets in my pocket, but gimme a minute or two and I can probably come up with something else."

"Fuck you."

"That's the idea. Hakkai and the monkey are gone..." Gojyo's voice slowed to his normal drawl. No, not normal; even slower, the voice he used when he thought he was being sly and sexy. The grinding of his hips slowed to a steady up-and-down, the warm friction of denim on denim. "Not like you ain't done it before."

Drunken celebration hardly counted, and well Gojyo knew it. Furthermore, he knew damned well he should never, ever mention it. The dumb-ass must have been feeling particularly ballsy to say such a thing, to remind Sanzo of his own past mistakes.

Horribly, horribly, Gojyo would die, teeth knocked out one by one, intestines pulled out inch by inch... Sanzo couldn't believe he'd ever let the smarmy sonofabitch-- but never again, because the smarmy sonofabitch would be dead, horribly, horribly, horribly, teeth knocked out one by one... Sanzo found it a satisfying mantra to keep his anger kicking. "You'll never be safe, ever again..." he promised.

"Ya think? Don't matter. Never thought I was safe, anyway." Sanzo felt metal tickling his earlobe, followed by puffs of Gojyo's warm, whispering breath, punctuated by little hip-juts into Sanzo's ass. "Learnin' all kinds of things about this bad boy today. Like, this is kinda hot."

"Aargh," Sanzo shouted into the wood, as loudly as he could with a mouth that only opened partway. The release of stored breath and the recognition of futility drained some of his anger and adrenaline, leaving cold murder behind. And there was another feeling, that warm tightness growing in his gut at having Gojyo pressed against him, having Gojyo's chest, stomach, legs arching into those slow, teasing undulations that he could probably keep up for days... Sanzo had thought that feeling a fluke the first time it had happened; sickening that it should hit him again, now. He hated strong emotion, of any kind. Sanzo practiced his best Buddhist-breathing technique for a full minute before he spoke again, in as calm a voice as he could muster. "Let me go."

"Are ya still gonna kill me?" Gojyo's nose, or something, was in Sanzo's hair, and the metal pressed against his ear wavered in its determination.

Yes, Sanzo thought. He didn't have time to say it aloud, though, because they could hear the gravel-crunching return of Jeep, along with Goku's excited laughter.

Gojyo backed off an inch or two. Still, it wasn't until he knew Hakkai and Goku were a half-second from stepping into the yard that he released Sanzo and tossed him the gun with a careless wrist-flick.

If Gojyo thought the presence of Hakkai and Goku would halt his imminent death, then Gojyo was wrong. Sanzo clenched his teeth and took careful, if rage-shaken, aim, somewhere at the vicinity of Gojyo's red hair-covered ear. The others stepped around the corner. Gojyo grinned.

"Well, well," Hakkai said, smiling and setting several bags onto a weathered outdoor table. Jeep hovered over his shoulder. "What's going on here?"

"I'm going to kill this asshole," Sanzo grated out.

"Sanzo's going to shoot me," Gojyo said.

"Ah, the usual," Hakkai said, and motioned Goku to get his face out of the bag he was carrying and set it on the table. Hakkai started digging through the bags. "Some very nice people in a house up the road sold us some rice and vegetables. If someone could get a fire started in that pit for me, I'll try and cook us some breakfast."

"I'll do it," Gojyo said and waved at Sanzo. His casual gesture belied the slightly manic glint in his eyes. "Ah, Sanzo?"

"Why aren't you wearing any shoes, Sanzo?" Goku asked from around a mouthful of something green and crunchy.

Sanzo seethed in the face of such normalcy. Why had he ever let Gojyo think he could touch him? Sanzo definitely had a duty to kill him for it. What the living hell was wrong with Gojyo? Why had he done such a thing, why had he dared to touch the gun and then taunt me over it, and the most burning question, why haven't I already put the bullet in his head like he deserves? "Fuck!" Sanzo spat, yanked his aim a few inches to the right and squeezed the trigger. The report and the crack of splitting wood were deafening and orgasmic.

It was a second or two before Hakkai spoke again. "The fire, Gojyo?"

"Hah. Yeah, I'll get on it, man." Gojyo's voice might have been shaky but Sanzo didn't stick around to find out. He stomped back into the barn to collect his composure and the rest of his clothing. And to plan his revenge. Whatever Gojyo had been thinking, there was no way Sanzo could let him get away with it. No way whatsoever.

***

People seemed to think Sanzo had no patience, that his anger was quick and burned out even more quickly. This was not necessarily true. Sanzo could, in fact, hold a grudge for as long as it needed to be held-- when he really wanted to. He'd become long-used to hiding the worst of his own despised emotion from the others. He'd considered, once, keeping track of all the times he didn't kill them, and then showing everyone the list to impress them with his restraint. Luckily for them, Sanzo rarely felt like writing.

This current grudge, in fact, could wait: it was worth it. Good thing, too, because it took several days to find the right opportunity to exact his revenge. Several days of acting like normal, of driving, eating, drinking, sleeping, hitting Goku and Gojyo when absolutely necessary. It at least gave Sanzo time to plan, though he was slightly disturbed at the prurient turn his thoughts and body took when he imagined it.

This time, though, he'd be in control. And when the opportunity appeared, it was blissful, beautifully simple, and dropped neatly into his lap like a present. One inn, mostly empty because of the youkai threat in the area. Four available rooms at a dirt-cheap rate. Easy enough for Sanzo, holder of the Gold Card and, therefore, the payer, to quietly acquire extra keys to all the rooms.

Once they'd all finished eating and drinking and arguing and all the usual bullshit that went along with any dinner in a public place, they went upstairs to their rooms. Sanzo waited-- lurked-- outside Gojyo's room until he heard the shower start. He let himself in, walking as quietly as an assassin. He flattened himself on the wall next to the bathroom door. He was glad he'd left his robe in his own room. The flowing white said a great deal about who he was, but he was less visible without it.

Inn-rooms were pretty much all alike in their anonymity, but Gojyo had already managed to infect this one with his personality. His clothes littered the floor, and a half-empty beer he'd carried upstairs waited on the bedside table next to his pack of smokes and the ashtray. Wisps of steam puffed out the crack in the bathroom door along with the wavering up-and-down of Gojyo's humming. Goddamn, but he took long showers. What was he doing-- conditioning his hair?

The water finally stopped running and the humming tapered off. There were a few towel-swishing sounds. Gojyo was naked. Sanzo's stomach fluttered with raw little jerks of purely carnal anticipation; all the better, or this would never work.

As the bathroom door started to open, Sanzo twirled the leather strap he'd helped himself to in the stables more tightly around his fingers. This would be so easy; all one needed was utter confidence, and the world bent to one's will. The air in an inn-room had never seemed more real and visible. The furniture had never been so defined. Absolute clarity came rarely but when it did, it was astounding.

Gojyo stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a towel and eyes closed against the water dripping down his face. The old, strong leather wrapped around Sanzo's fist upgraded the force of his knuckles when he swung in for the dry-gulch: Gojyo would have a bruise on his jaw, come morning.

"What the-- Shit!" For in the half-second Gojyo was punch-disoriented, Sanzo grabbed Gojyo's hands and yanked them behind his back. His wrists were slippery and wet but Sanzo had already had his knot half-built. It was quick work to yank the ends of the strap and slide the knot home. The shaku-jou materialized but Gojyo had no hands to grab it. Sanzo kicked it away to clatter on the paneled wall. It soon pfted back to wherever it lived when Gojyo wasn't using it.

Gojyo was weaponless and his hands may have been tied but he was a street-fighter from way back-- and he still had long, dangerous legs. He kicked out and Sanzo only half-dodged-- he'd have a bruise on his thigh to match the one on Gojyo's jaw. He was still close enough to toss the trailing leather loop over Gojyo's head.

When Gojyo saw that it was Sanzo attacking him, his red eyes widened and he hesitated a fatal half-second more. "Sanzo? What the hell, man? Urk--!"

Sanzo yanked the loop, tightening it around Gojyo's neck and cutting off a good deal of his air supply.

Gojyo fought dirty, but Sanzo had the drop, clear and unambiguous as all hell. When Gojyo kicked again, Sanzo jumped aside and dug his boot into the back of Gojyo's standing knee. Gojyo fell onto the rug, face-forward, knees and nose the only things holding him up. Sanzo jerk-twisted the strap in the air, winding it around his wrist, and yanked once more for good measure. The crowning touch was the gun in Gojyo's ear. It had all the authority it needed, especially in the hands of someone who knew what the hell he was doing.

"Shut the fuck up and stay still," Sanzo breathed.

"Sanzo-- you dick-- what the?" Gojyo rasped.

"I thought I told you to shut up," Sanzo said. He kneeled on Gojyo's calves to keep him still while he finished the neck-knot. The tight loops of half-inch wide brown leather against Gojyo's wet neck were a beautiful sight. Strands of red hair were threaded into the knot, providing an artistic counterpoint to the faded brown and flesh. Gojyo was an annoying sonofabitch but he was a definitely a good-looking sonofabitch. No matter that he knew it; Sanzo would never say it aloud.

Gojyo tried to swing his hands and his head jerked up. "Shit," he coughed, realizing too late that struggling would only help him choke himself. His towel had come loose and slid off to reveal his naked, wet ass. Sanzo's dick twitched inside the prison of his jeans and the pain of its struggle was welcome information: he was already hard. He'd wondered if it would work this way, for him. He leaned forward those few, tiny inches, to press the bulge in his jeans against the crack of Gojyo's ass.

"Those aren't bullets in my pocket, dumbass," he whispered, and trailed the gun, oh-so-slowly, down Gojyo's spine, feeling the up and down of his vertebrae and his careful breathing. Some of Gojyo's more recent scars were stark-visible against his flushed skin. Sanzo's own injury-aches pinged in sympathy. He ignored them.

"Hell, Sanzo. I'm sorry..." Gojyo whispered into the rug, squirming a little.

"No, you're not," Sanzo said, pressing the end of his gun into the skin at the juncture of Gojyo's ass and spine. It was so very close to the front of his own jeans, his dick throbbing hard with his pulse like it was trying to jump out to meet the steel. One shot and Sanzo could end both their dilemmas, once and for all...

No, he wanted it too much. Wanted Gojyo. The truth was a bitch, but there it was. Sanzo's job would be to make sure the proper boundaries were observed. He shoved the muzzle down once more for good measure, admiring the white-then-pink notched circle in Gojyo's skin, then set the gun on the floor.

Gojyo sighed visibly at the wood-and-metal clunk. "Yeah, I am," he whispered.

"Hn, Idiot. You wanted this, didn't you?" Sanzo sighed back, and flattened his palms on Gojyo's ribs, let the damp and warm soak into his dry fingers. Forward he pressed, sliding across skin, feeling the fluttering of Gojyo's pulse through his own inflexible grip. He stroked up and down Gojyo's body, pulling it back against himself bit by bit, letting the memory of the last time he'd been this close to Gojyo fuel his craving. There was only half the clothing barrier between them, this time, everything alternatingly teasing and sharp when he moved just right.

With the gun gone, some of Gojyo's suicidal valor returned. "I'd sorta pictured it the other way around," he quipped, his humor muffled by the rug.

"You said you wanted to try something new," Sanzo reminded him. He undid the button of his fly with fingers that shook only a little and shoved his jeans halfway down his thighs. Then, he could lean forward, press his hot, aching skin against skin, rub it into that water-slicked muscle.

"Oh, hell," Gojyo mumbled. Was he drooling into the floor? It wouldn't have surprised Sanzo. He was feeling a bit drooly himself. Still, Gojyo was persistent as ever, even if his voice was a bit shaky. "If there's any fucking to be done, I should prob'ly be doing it."

"Shut up," Sanzo said again. He grabbed Gojyo's hips, pulled them back, and up. He could get off from doing that alone, by creating his own sweet friction. Or, he could just slide on in, see what it felt like... Then Sanzo remembered the other little item he'd picked up in one of the various podunk towns they'd traversed in the last few days-- the lube in his jeans pocket. Gojyo probably didn't deserve it, but surely it could only make things easier all around. Sanzo knew very well that he was a mean bastard, but he wasn't a sadist. Not with his dick, anyway. He had no desire to turn that into a weapon. His rage had gone cold days back, and this satisfying little retribution he could enjoy physically, without any messy anger or other emotion getting in the way.

Gojyo didn't answer except with his harsh breaths, forced in and out of his lungs and a mouth that was half-muffled by rug. Sanzo breathed with him, kept up the rhythm of his hips while he squeezed the gel onto his fingers. He laid them on the cleft of Gojyo's ass, on the head of his own cock, let the back-and-forth of his swaying momentum coat his throbbing, dry skin with the glistening sheen of oh, that slickness felt good.

"Wait, Sanzo..." Gojyo's voice sounded positively desperate, now. Moany. "Let me... You seemed to like it okay...Right?"

"Oh, hell!" Sanzo spat, annoyed at the break in his concentration. Gojyo would simply not shut the fuck up. Therefore, Sanzo would have to shut him the fuck up. He reached down for Gojyo's dick. Unsurprisingly, it was hard, hot. Sanzo gave it a few quick jerks. His slicked-up fingers must felt as good to Gojyo as they had to himself: Gojyo moaned, a sensual cry that made Sanzo's ass-cheeks clench. "Do I have to gag you, you moron? I will."

"No-- no," Gojyo choked out. His knees sagged apart, and Sanzo felt them both sink, infinitesimally, inexorably, towards the floor. "Oh, Shit, Sanzo. D-- do it... Please."

Gojyo was too excited; this was poor retribution. But Sanzo was too far gone, his body too tight and throbbing and expectant, to care. "I'll do it," Sanzo promised, hoping his voice didn't sound as breathless and shaky as he felt. He grabbed his own trembling cock to hold it still. Gojyo was already spread; it took barely any effort to sag forward, to nudge Gojyo's tight hole with the head of his cock--

"Shit. Shit," Gojyo was whispering, and whether he was heeding Sanzo's directive to shut up, or in pain, or in ecstasy, Sanzo didn't care, because whoahell, it was tight... There was a resistance sucking at the head of Sanzo's cock, Gojyo's thighs quivered against his own, and he didn't care-- he gripped Gojyo's hips and pulled and whatever the resistance was only squeezed sotightsogood, once Sanzo was all the way inside.

"Hah," they both said, as Sanzo hovered for a moment, then fell forward onto Gojyo's back, Gojyo's clenching fingers between them. Sanzo had to brace himself on the floor to stay upright. Did it feel as good to Gojyo as it had felt to Sanzo?

Gojyo's unrequested reply was a long, low moan.

Sanzo couldn't sit there wondering forever; the begging of his cock to move move was more urgent than introspection. He lifted his hips, experimentally, pulling out sweetfrictionohyes, then thrust forward again hard enough to slap his balls on Gojyo's ass. Again, less hesitantly, then again, until after a minute or so he'd found a good rhythm, the perfect amount of friction and the perfect pace for the teasing and sharp. He would take his time, oh yes...

Sanzo felt when Gojyo picked up the rhythm, when he let his hips relax and roll under Sanzo's, breathing ahs that punctuated each thrust. Gojyo fingers unclenched, spread, tickling Sanzo's belly, teasing the bottom edge of his silk shirt, as they moved together.

"That's it, Gojyo," Sanzo might have whispered, though he didn't mean to.

"I wish I could touch you," Gojyo mumbled into the floor. "Ah! Wish I could put my hands on your skin, you sick fuck. You've-- ahohshitthere-- got your clothes on, dontcha?"

Sanzo did, but as he lost himself in the tense squeeze of flesh, he could imagine them off, imagine his bare skin against Gojyo's arms and his back, as their thighs strained together. It was too much imagining, he was tight all over, he could feel everything through the clothes he had on, he wasn't going to last--

"Muh," he said against Gojyo's shoulder-blade, and yeah, he was definitely drooling, but damn if Gojyo's clean, slightly sweaty skin didn't taste good. He was going to come completely unhinged any second, shit his balls were tight-- He wrapped his fingers around Gojyo's cock again, slid it back and forth in time with his hips. It was barely any effort at all, no distraction from the tight quivering clench around his own dick.

"Ahshit. Ah!" Gojyo coughed, and Sanzo could feel everything where they touched, could feel the sticky-hot of Gojyo spurting into his fingers, the seize of his muscles all at once, imagined it happening for himself. It was easy enough, he was poised at the brink, that very edge of absolute sensation; everything was too tight and acute--

But it was just enough; his balls clenched and propelled him forward one last time into orgasm. His hips were sluggish with the release, made of jelly, moving underwater. He managed to shove forward two, three more times, anyway, squeezing out his own life. Was this what it felt like to release one's chi?

He could never ask Hakkai, Sanzo thought numbly as he slumped forward. His dead weight flattened Gojyo to the floor.

They lay there for a minute or two, Sanzo breathing Gojyo's hair and Gojyo breathing rug. When Sanzo decided he'd felt at peace with the position for long enough, he strained his sore, wobbly muscles enough to roll off.

Then, he realized that he'd rolled onto his smokes. Furthermore, he realized that his next smoke would taste fantastic, squashed or not. He sat up and wriggled into his jeans.

"Ow," Gojyo said. He wiggled his legs, unthreateningly. He seemed to be testing to see if they still worked.

"What?" Sanzo said, sliding his pistol closer, anyway, before he lit a smoke.

"Everything, I think," Gojyo said. He rolled over and looked at Sanzo from between strands of hair that he couldn't brush out of his eyes. "You do have your clothes on already, you bastard."

"Hn," Sanzo said, and smoked, blowing grey clouds into a room that was still amazingly sharp and clear. He was relaxed but sticky. He'd have to take a shower, once he decided to get off his ass and go back to his room.

"Uh. Sanzo-sama?" Gojyo mumbled after about half a minute of watching Sanzo smoke.

"The fuck do you want?"

"I can't breathe. Untie this, would you, man?" Gojyo rolled over like a fish, presenting his bare back and waggling fingers to Sanzo. The sticky-looking smears on his thighs drew Sanzo's gaze. That had been pretty damned good, he thought. Not that he'd particularly minded doing it the other way. It had been pretty damned enjoyable as well, in fact. It was the manner of Gojyo's asking that he'd objected to.

"You going to try anything stupid?" Sanzo asked, shaking his head to clear it of distracting memories.

"Hell, no. Too tired," Gojyo said.

Sanzo tched and shoved his cigarette between his lips. Once he had both hands free it only took a few seconds to loosen the tight knots in the leather. He untied Gojyo's wrists but left the neck-knot for Gojyo. Let Gojyo pull his own hair out untying that one.

Gojyo managed it and crawled to his feet. Sanzo touched his gun on the floor, presenting a clear warning, in case Gojyo happened to be looking.

"I'm just getting my smokes, asshole," Gojyo said. He fetched said smokes and lit one, breathing in and out once, deeply, before turning and looking at Sanzo. "Y'know, all ya had to do was ask, Sanzo."

"Didn't feel like asking permission," Sanzo said. He smoked.

Gojyo sat cross-legged on the floor across from Sanzo, reaching over to snatch the ashtray off the bedside table. He was still naked, smarmy and proud of it. "Tell me-- am I allowed to ask?"

Sanzo considered it. "Depends on what you're asking. I'll see how I feel. Don't ever touch my gun again, or I will kill you."

Gojyo wasn't suitably chastised. In fact, he was grinning. He blew a cloud of smoke at Sanzo. "Hey. It takes a lot to get your attention. Misdeeds on a scale of epic fucking proportion."

"Bastard!" Sanzo said, once he'd figured it out. He clenched his fingers. He would kill Gojyo. Now. He would kill the fuck out of him. He would-- Everything was blurry again. Sanzo couldn't think, couldn't decide whether this bullshit was instant-murder-worthy, or retribution-worthy. He could blow Gojyo's brains out now. Or he could wait. He could explain the brains all over the room to Hakkai. Or, he could think it over. He could barely speak. "Fuck. I fucking hate you."

"'Sallright. I hate you, too," Gojyo said, and stretched out his legs to touch the side of his bed.

Sanzo snorted as unstoppably as he'd orgasmed, and his anger was expelled with it, leaving him deflated. It pissed him off a little, but it couldn't have been helped. Emotion manifested itself in too many uncomfortable ways.

Sanzo jumped to his feet without bothering to tell Gojyo how dead he was. Would be. Soon. He stomped to the door, and slammed it open.

"Don't ever speak to me again, asshole, and you might live," he told Gojyo as he left, knowing full well that the threat would have no effect at all. He didn't know if he was pleased by that knowledge. He decided he'd have to see how he felt, the next day, or the day after that.

End. Thanks for reading!