Stain

Summary: Gojyo delivers a different kind of pain…

Disclaimer: Don’t own Saiyuki. Not now, not ever. Bummer.

A/N: /word/ indicates emphasis


I can’t tell you /when/ it happened, but I can tell you exactly /how/ it happened.

Sanzo made sure that we were all asleep, or at least, he thought /all/ of us were asleep. But I heard him sneak out of our shared motel room. I doubt neither Hakkai nor Goku had heard him. That monk can be quite stealthy, but I was already awake, being haunted by my own demons, and heard the door click once then twice before he was gone.

Sighing, I followed him out into the dark night. It had rained earlier that day, and there were still clouds hanging about ominously, just waiting to drop another load. Why Sanzo chose to be out with impending rain was beyond me, being the anti-rain man that he is.

I followed him into a nearby forest (gods, they’re everywhere!) and nearly lost sight of him in the much darker areas between the trees. It was almost pitch black. The moon chose to show herself every now and again, and lucky for me, she did one last time before I did indeed lose sight of the monk.

When I finally came upon him, he was leaning against the trunk of a thick tree. And it didn’t occur to me as to why he seemed to blend in with the shadows until I realized that the monk had left without his robes. With/out/ his fucking robes!! Did he have an effing death wish?! There was no telling what was lurking in the forest we were in, and here the damn blonde monk was without his robes, Sutra, or any sort of protection!

He was in his kinky as hell leather tank and those damned sexy leather arm warmers with denim hugging his hips and legs possessively, the material riding low, pale skin peeking out every now and again. Now, I’ve admitted that Sanzo is quite a beautiful creature, but he looked downright erotic at that very moment, the very picture of seduction and desire as he leaned against the tree, head resting against the trunk to expose the pale silk of his neck, eyes closed and mouth parted ever so slightly.

He didn’t acknowledge me as I approached him, didn’t even answer when I called his name. When he finally did decide that I was worthy of his attention, the suffering in his unguarded gaze caught me off guard and cut me to the quick. I knew Sanzo suffered daily, nightly, anytime really, but I had never( and I mean, /never/) actually seen it so visible in his eyes before.

I’ve seen the way he’ll look at Goku sometimes, the way his violet eyes would follow the saru, the way they darkened with an intense longing. Now, I don’t personally think there was ever any sexual connotation to that particular look directed toward the ape, but perhaps a longing to be what the saru is: seemingly happy, carefree and just all around /content/. Something that I don’t think Sanzo has ever been.

Sanzo wraps himself in anger and coldness to hide the extreme pain that is in his heart, the guilt that eats away at his very soul, the weakness that he hides from everyone. Now, while I admit that Sanzo is indeed the master of control and deception when it comes to his emotions, even the high and mighty Genjo Sanzo slips every now and again.

The only emotion Sanzo actually /allows/ to run rampant is his boiling rage, and even /that/ is a façade most of the time. He’d never admit what he is really feeling. Not now. Not in a million years. Perhaps, long ago, there was someone he confided in, told his deepest and innermost feelings to, but that person is long gone, taken from him so young and so ruthlessly.

But when he thinks no one is looking (and /I/ do look his way a lot when, of course, /he’s/ not looking), there’ll be a moment where something dark will pass over his face, dulling his usually vivid purple stare, making his shoulders droop just the slightest bit. It hurts me to see him like that. It makes me want to go comfort him, but I know he’d shrug it off with an insult and a cocked exorcising gun.

So, anyway, we were in this dark forest, him looking all of a sexy beast and me hurting to look at him. He looked at me for the longest time, and I swear I was gonna drown in the pain residing in those wickedly violet eyes of his.

“Gojyo,” he said, and that was all he said at first. My name just rolled off his tongue so silkily, so seductively, just a low grumble in his rich voice. I felt my pants become just a tad too restricting.

Gods curse me more, but in his pain, I was becoming increasingly aroused.

He motioned me closer and fisted the material of my shirt to pull me flush against him. I just stood there, overwhelmingly shocked at his motion that, at first, I hadn’t heard what he had said.

“Gojyo,” he repeated. “I want you. Make me hurt, make me bleed, but just make the pain go away, even if only for a while.”

Now, I thought I had heard everything before, but apparently, I was wrong. My mind went white for a moment before it registered what exactly he wanted from me. If hurting him physically was the only way I could help him, then I was more that happy to oblige. Like I said earlier, I really want to comfort Sanzo, make him feel good, make his hurt go away.

So, I leaned down and claimed his mouth in a soft kiss. Then Sanzo’s lips began to devour me roughly, almost desperately, and I pulled away with a yelp when he bit my lower lip.

“I don’t want gentleness, Gojyo. I want you to hurt me, understand?” The dangerous edge had returned to his voice and his eyes only reinforced it.

Fine. If that’s what he wanted, that’s what he’d get. I’ll never forget the way he moaned, the way he writhed, the way he /begged/. And yes, he did beg. The holier-than-thou Genjo Sanzo actually begged to be fucked right into the tree, the bark cutting mercilessly into his skin, blood flowing freely behind him and between us. I had wasted no time with preparation. He wanted pain, so I gave him pain.

I’ll never forget how beautiful he was at the moments leading to his release, the way his eyes were fogged and darkened with pain and passion, the way his alabaster skin was flushed a comely shade of red, the way his body moved so perfectly in time with mine, the way he fit so perfectly all around me. It seemed that his body was made just for mine.

He came with salt tears leaking from his clenched eyes. I traced the trails they had left with my tongue, gently kissing his closed eyelids (the /only/ gentle action I administered, mind you) before claiming his mouth in a bruising kiss, biting his lower lip until I tasted blood, groaning as he moaned into my mouth. I came right then, bucking into the inferno that was Genjo Sanzo. By the gods above, I never knew the cold could burn so fiercely.

So, now this has become quite a ritual for us. I’ll take him mercilessly, bathe him in a different kind of pain, make him forget the cancer in his heart. And he’ll fall asleep in my arms, trusting me enough to hold him and see him at his most vulnerable.

I think I might even love him.

~owari~