jedishampoo | Fic: Unpunished, Sanzo/Gojyo, NSFW

Title: Unpunished
Author:

jedishampoo
Rating: NC-l7
Pairing: Sanzo/Gojyo
Summary: Pre-journey. Gojyo has his own way of dealing with Sanzo, and vice-versa.
Author's notes: Another one with Sanzo seme, eek! For

ladylotusmoon in the

valentine_smut fic exchange. Prompt: Sanzo/Gojyo, "cricket." I’ve always wanted to write this pairing pre-journey. There was a 3,000-word limit and I squeezed in just under, yay! Thanks to my lovely betas

sharpeslass and

caeseria, and to

rroselavy for organizing the exchange!

Unpunished

It promised to be a nice day for the big, annual festival, all sunny-late-summer-almost-autumn in Chang’An. Everyone was perky in the chilly morning air, including the market-girls-- hey, was she new?-- and the little barefoot baldie-in-training who told Gojyo that Master Sanzo was not to be disturbed and that there was no smoking in the temple, please, sir!

Gojyo ignored the baldie and slid the office door open with a wooden thwack. Sanzo wasn’t in the big room. Gojyo headed for the little room in back, and got to whiz open yet a second wooden door. It felt good to have purpose, to do Good Deeds, especially in the face of someone who always got his way. Good thing Gojyo was one of those people who never gave up.

“Oi!” he said, loud in the small room.

Sanzo’s blond head jerked up from his stack of papers and Gojyo counted it as a point for his team: he was sure Sanzo would have loved to ignore him. Score two: Sanzo looked surprised to see Gojyo there alone. An instant later his eyes regained their usual, snooty, I-hate-you expression, and another instant later went back to staring at paperwork on the desk.

Sanzo hadn’t said a word and already there was that weird tension between them, thick like Sanzo’s cigarette smoke in the air, sharp like Sanzo’s attitude. Intensely erotic like Sanzo’s pale, slender-muscled shoulders in that black silk shirt, and the memory of his voice chanting sutras for Hakkai’s dead sister-lover. Or maybe that was just Gojyo?

Asshole or not, Sanzo sure was pretty, even with his damned grandpa glasses. Prettier and probably tighter than half the girls in Chang’An. It was why the stupid monks fell all over themselves trying to do whatever he wanted. That, and the fact that they were all scared shitless of him. Not Gojyo.

Those thin, sneering lips were wrapped around Gojyo’s cock, and shit, Sanzo’s mouth was hot. Wouldn’ta thought that, being attached to Buddha’s iciest follower and all. That blond hair was soft in Gojyo’s fingers; there was sweat and then, maybe, a tear on that pale face as Gojyo yanked...

It had been a fucked-up dream like always, but then Gojyo was a fucked-up individual, and he had no one to blame but himself for that, did he? He’d woken early that morning with a helluva boner and it’d taken him five soapy fingers and a good fifteen minutes in the shower to get rid of it.

Now he had to get this over with and get home to enjoy his own fantasies, alone-- fantasies that were always worse after he’d actually seen Sanzo. Who would never, never let Gojyo fuck him. Probably. Gojyo’s healthy sexual imagination only made it easier to talk to Sanzo without killing him. Usually. Gojyo gritted his teeth and tried to focus on Good Deeds.

“I said, Oi! Was Hakkai here?”

“It’s not my problem if he doesn’t tell you where he’s going,” Sanzo said to his desk.

“I know where he went, asshole. I was just making sure he’d already left.” Hakkai had taken Goku off for fun and games and food, as promised. Gojyo stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and picked up one of Sanzo’s little Buddhist-looking knickknacks from his desk. It was probably supposed to be some sort of religious totem, but to Gojyo it looked like a substitute penis. He tossed the wooden dick into the air. “I gotta talk to you.”

Sanzo sighed and set his pen on the desk. He looked up at Gojyo over his glasses. Barriers, Gojyo thought, and didn’t know why.

“What do you want, idiot? If you want to make your useless self useful, I might have a job for you.”

Good Deeds. Gojyo set the totem back on the desk. “I do enough shit-- we do enough shit for you. I want you to do something for me.”

“Fuck off,” Sanzo said, and went back to scritching pen on paper, his beloved, never-ending paperwork. The only thing that probably ever got him hard.

No, you’re going to do something for me, whether you want to or not. Yes, please. Who’s the bitch, now? You want it, don’t you, Sanzo-sama? Fuck, yes.

Gojyo grinned and his brain said, screw it. It was the only way to deal with the asshole, really.

You’re all high and mighty but you’re not too good to take it up the rear from a half-youkai, are you? No, please. Do I have to look at you, or do I get to look at my cock in your sweet ass? I don’t care. Just do it. I knew you had it in you. I’m the one to let it out for you...

Gojyo felt a twitch in his jeans: the hard-on was gonna return if he didn’t do what he’d come to do, pronto. He yanked the folded piece of paper from his pocket and tossed it onto Sanzo’s stack of parchment.

“Hakkai doesn’t like it. Do something about it, will ya?”

“You’re not going to go away, are you?” Sanzo said, but the pen stopped scritching. He shot another beautiful, angry glare at Gojyo and then picked up the corner of the folded sheet and shook it out. His forehead wrinkled as he scanned the sheet and then dropped it.

“I don’t care about bear fights,” he said.

Gojyo’d fully expected that reply. And he couldn’t help but agree, a little. Human-sponsored animal fights had been going on for hundreds of years and would go on for hundreds of years after he and Hakkai and Sanzo were dead. A fine tradition, and a fine opportunity to make some extra cash, if you knew where to lay your bets. But Hakkai had gotten upset when he’d seen the flyer; he couldn’t believe they were doing that in this town. How backwards. How inhumane. And Sanzo was the only person Gojyo knew who had the authority to do something about it.

“Yeah, well, like I said, Hakkai doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the cricket fights, neither. Well, crickets are lucky, after all,” Gojyo’s voice added, without his permission.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, even from you.”

“Listen, asshole.” Gojyo grabbed Sanzo’s pale shoulder, felt the cool silk, warm skin: cold and hot, the perfect metaphor for Sanzo. Sanzo came down off his chair and onto his knees, bit the edge of the desk when his ass-cheeks were spread, that tight, virgin hole opened for business... His fingers squeezed, hard. “He isn’t gonna kill anyone over it, but-- well, anyway, you’re the high priest. Ain’t you Buddhists against this shit? Can’t you say something to someone? At least get ‘em to take it outta town, or something?”

“It’s not my problem,” Sanzo said, and shook his shoulder, trying to dislodge Gojyo’s fingers. When that didn’t work he grabbed Gojyo’s wrist-- he was stronger than he looked, Gojyo should have remembered that, sure remembered holding him down-- and yanked it off. “Go talk to the mayor or something.”

“Him?” Gojyo snorted and dug in his jacket for his cigarettes to hide his twitchy fingers. “He’s got his own damned bear-and-cricket stables.”

“Do something yourself, then.” Sanzo reached out to nab his lighter from the desk before Gojyo could. They both grabbed it at the same time. This time Gojyo won-- wrenched it right out of Sanzo’s fingers. Sanzo stood and leaned over the desk, glaring at Gojyo from six inches away. “Go away. Do it. Just get out.”

“I could go there and bust shit up, no problem,” Gojyo said, lighting the smoke and trying to look nonchalant, to not show the high he was already riding. Doin’ it on the desk, Sanzo’s knees shoved into his own shoulders, biting his lip to keep from howling... “But I like living here. And you’re-- well, people around here do whatever you say.”

“You are wasting my time,” Sanzo sneered.

“It ain’t wasting time to help out a friend, you prick.” Yeah, Sanzo sneered, but when Gojyo shoved his hand into the bunched-up robe at his waist to yank him closer, well, he looked even better up close and all pink from bein’ riled, and his stomach muscles jumped under Gojyo’s knuckles. Damn, Sanzo was tight all over...

Damn, Gojyo had actually done it. The shock in Sanzo’s eyes lasted only a second.

“Stop fucking touching me,” he said, in a low and deadly voice.

Gojyo let go faster than he’d ever let anything go in his life. Even so, he was still pissed off. “Sorry, man. Thought you liked it.”

“Your death wish is starting to bore me,” Sanzo said, backing off a bit. But something in the way he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, then rolled his neck back onto his shoulders, told Gojyo a different story. Or maybe that was just Gojyo.

No, Gojyo wasn’t imagining it. He knew when someone wasn’t bored by him. And Sanzo definitely wasn’t bored.

Gojyo was a gambler. He’d touched the untouchable more than once, and lived to brag about it. He hoped his brand-new boner wasn’t showing.

“No death wish. You just don’t know what you’re missing. You need something to loosen up that tight ass of yours, make you a little more friendly. And to think, I don’t even have a monk thing, though I got nothin’ against ‘em.”

His hard-on was showing, and Sanzo saw it. The sneer was back, curling his thin lips. “You’re that desperate, are you?” he said, his voice a strange, low breathy sound that Gojyo had never heard from him.

But Gojyo was already on a roll. He blew smoke at the ceiling, loving the adrenaline rush, loving the high he got from telling Sanzo the fuck off. “Hell, no. I’ve got no shortage of warm places to put my dick, if I want. If you’re too good for it, that’s your problem.”

By the time Gojyo looked back down Sanzo was already around the desk and had the gun pointed directly at his nose.

“Do I kill you first and then shoot your dick off?” Sanzo said in that same breathy tone, face so close to Gojyo’s and the gun that they could kiss it, or each other. “Or do I do this the hard way?”

Okay. Maybe Gojyo had been wrong, after all. He’d gambled and lost. Just because Sanzo was not bored didn’t mean it was a good thing.

“Fine! Fine. I’ll go.” Gojyo’s voice hardly shook at all. “Just think about--”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sanzo told him, in that sexy, dangerous voice that seemed to have become permanent. Gojyo felt Sanzo’s fingers plucking the burning Hi-Lite from his fingers. “You wanted something from me?”

“A trade?” Gojyo’s voice was definitely shaking by that point. And had grown a bit of a manic giggle. “C’mon, Sanzo, put the gun down...”

“No trade.” Sanzo pressed forward until they were crotch to crotch, pushing Gojyo back against the desk. Closer than a ground hold, close enough that Gojyo could smell Sanzo’s intensity and his fresh, clean hair. They both smelled good. And holy shit, but Sanzo was hard, too--

“God, Sanzo,” Gojyo gulped.

“You think I didn’t know?” Sanzo didn’t even have the gun pointed at Gojyo, anymore, but Gojyo didn’t care; he was turned on and a little bit scared and he couldn’t look away from Sanzo’s eyes, his thin lips. Could he touch him again? Grab those scrawny hips and drag Sanzo closer so that he could feel more, everything?

“Know what?” Gojyo squeaked.

“Don’t play stupid.” Sanzo pushed his face into Gojyo’s neck and Gojyo could feel his sharp inhale and exhale through the muscles in his chest, pressed against his own. Could Sanzo feel Gojyo’s heart, thumping in his ribcage so hard it hurt, pushing blood around until it hurt, everywhere? “Take your pants off. Now.”

Gojyo’s fingers were twitching so badly he could hardly get his jeans unbuttoned, and the whole time Sanzo breathed into his neck, warm puffs fondling his earlobe. Gojyo thought he might come from that and his jeans scraping his dick as he shoved them down as far as he could without bending over. Sanzo pushed them to the floor with his tabi-socked foot and Gojyo shook them loose. “Not really gonna shoot it off, are you...”

“Shut up.”

Gojyo shut up: it wasn’t his game, anymore. He waited for instructions. Sanzo wanted him.

Sanzo’s strong fingers grabbed Gojyo’s dick and pulled up-- once, twice-- and then just held on, hothothot callused skin and all Gojyo could see was gold and... he couldn’t help it; he grabbed onto Sanzo’s shoulders, that pale, hard skin and cool silk.

“Your dick is no use to me, Gojyo,” Sanzo whispered.

“Please, Sanzo.” Gojyo wasn’t sure what he was begging for.

Sanzo’s fingers shifted as he undid his jeans under his robe. Gojyo didn’t dare look, not unless he was told to; just concentrated on the gold of Sanzo’s hair and the even sound of his breathing. It seemed to be speeding up. Sanzo pushed closer and gave Gojyo’s a breastbone a shove until his back was flat on the desk.

“Spread your legs,” Sanzo said, and Gojyo lifted and spread without thinking, spurred by those breaths. “You’re not too good for it, are you?”

“N...No,” Gojyo said, when Sanzo jerked forward and his hard, dry cock bumped into Gojyo’s own wildly throbbing flesh. His ass was open and bare, and no, he wasn’t too good for it at all.

Sanzo leaned-fell forward until he was nose-to-chin with Gojyo, and Gojyo wanted to kiss that pale forehead with its mark of chosen-by-the-gods. He dared, darted out his tongue and tasted the slight sheen of sweat with his lips.

“Where’s your lube?” Sanzo asked, grinding their bodies together, winding up the heat in slow undulations as elegant as everything Sanzo. “Unless you were planning to go without?”

“Jacket.” Gojyo scrabbled in his pocket. He was always prepared, even though hadn’t been planning anything except to help Hakkai. If his own sick mind had its own ideas, it was nothing like the real thing, the solid and too-real Sanzo that Gojyo was facing now.

It was nothing like Gojyo’s fantasy when Sanzo shoved in first a slick finger and then, with a low mmph, his cock. In, out; in, then pulling out and taking Gojyo’s sick brain with it. Again, faster, and it hurt, but there were no tears. Gojyo deserved all of it, clenched his legs around Sanzo’s back and rocked his hips up for more, and it felt too good to be punishment.

“Yeah, Sanzo,” he said, and Sanzo’s slippery fingers digging into his hips were his only reply.

It was better, oh so better than his dreams or revenge-fantasies, because Sanzo’s hair was soft and Gojyo wanted to lick his own hands for having touched it. Who was the bitch? He was the one who’d dreamed that his mother loved him.

“Please,” he said again.

“Can’t believe--” Sanzo huffed, and his face was gorgeous with strain and sweat as he fucked Gojyo harder, fingers digging harder, with a skill at hitting deep inside Gojyo’s body that no monk or virgin should ever have. “You pushed me... to this. Can’t believe... I want--”

Wanted Gojyo. Gojyo was gonna come too soon, it was all coiled as low as it could go in his gut, and was being pushed only tighter and lower by Sanzo’s hot cock stretching him open and Sanzo’s breath on his throat.

“Sanzo,” he breathed.

“Don’t... ever... Ah!” Whatever Sanzo was going to say was cut off when Gojyo came, hard, ass clenching and dick spurting between them. He didn’t even bother to bite his lip but cried out with everything pathetic that he was.

“Sanzo... Hah!”

“You--” Sanzo huffed, with a shove so hard that Gojyo’s back slid on the desk and his head hung off the chair-side. Still Sanzo moved, rocking his dick into Gojyo for another half a minute or so. “Ah!”

Gojyo wrapped his fingers in Sanzo’s hair and around his back and held him as he jerked and came, shuddering.

In those few post-climax dead moments Sanzo went limp. Gojyo pulled Sanzo up and kissed him, and Sanzo’s lips and tongue and lost, smoky breath were all Gojyo’s for a short time. Then, just as quickly, Sanzo was gone, standing to pull up his jeans. His glasses had fallen off. His half-lidded eyes stared with brief interest at Gojyo’s ass until Gojyo rocked forward to sit on the edge of the desk. When Sanzo looked him in the eye, Gojyo looked away.

“Crickets. You’re such an idiot,” Sanzo said in a strange voice.

“I know.” Gojyo couldn’t deny it.

“Will you... get out of here? Please,” Sanzo said then, in a whisper.

Sanzo never said please. Gojyo didn’t know whether to be warmed or afraid. So he just felt thoroughly fucked, because it was a pretty good way to feel. He snagged his jeans from the floor.

“I’m going,” Gojyo said.

“Unh,” Sanzo sighed, a worn-out sound. He lit a smoke.

Gojyo thought that a fabulous idea. He’d have a cigarette himself, as soon as he’d escaped the dangerous aura of Sanzo. Wiping sweat-- just sweat-- from his eyes, he slid open the door. The baldies at the other end of the big room stared at him as he stepped out.

Gojyo chuckled. Sanzo-sama would have some explaining-- or at least some heavy-duty ignoring-- to do. Gojyo may have been the bitch, but he’d certainly not fucked himself, had he?

“Trade or not, you think about what I asked, why dontcha?” Gojyo said through the door. “If the bears aren’t gone by the end of the day, you and I are gonna have another little chat.”

“Hn,” Sanzo said as Gojyo shut the door and went to find his shoes.

End. Thanks for reading!