A Piercing of the Heart

Sanzo had never found out the deal Goku had cut with the Sanbutsushin that had released him from the coronet that had encircled his head for centuries. He supposed that it had something to do with Goku’s role in halting the revival of the ox demon Gyomaoh, and the Minus Wave by proxy; it must have been an equitable exchange for the wrongs that had imprisoned him atop Mount Gogyo half a millennia ago. Part of the bargain, evidently, had been to release Sanzo from his stewardship as well.

He never did get to properly thank the monkey for that; not that Sanzo would have on any account, just as he had never expected Goku’s thanks for his role in freeing the Great Sage. That just wasn’t Sanzo’s way.

When he’d last seen Goku -- a strange sight, bereft of his diadem -- the teen had averted his eyes and walked past him, stooping only to pick up a small satchel of his belongings (Sanzo had admonished himself at the time at how neglectful he’d been in ensuring his charge had had adequate clothing throughout his tenure). Goku had not stopped nor even hazarded a glance back in Sanzo’s direction as he traversed the dusty temple courtyard, walked past the ornate filigree gates and down the hard-packed road, disappearing around a lazy bend.

It was only then that Sanzo noticed that the incessant chattering that had buzzed about his brain as low-level noise for years had been extinguished. In the days, weeks and months that had followed, the silence that he’d begged for threatened to engulf him, consume him, and then spit out his dried, bleached bones.

As he stared at the officious text of a telegram portending the young man’s immanent arrival, Sanzo wondered why he felt vaguely like the biblical father waiting for his prodigal son’s return. It wasn’t as if Goku had left on his own accord. Well, from all outward appearances he had, but Sanzo knew that he’d been driven away, or rather pushed away by his invisible hand -- his tersely worded rebuttal; “Not a chance, monkey.” Actually it had been more like “Not a chance in fucking hell, you stupid chimp.”

It wasn’t as if Goku’s move had come out of the blue; Sanzo had expected it, had steeled himself for it. He’d noticed the tenor in the voice that occupied his head had changed subtly; it had taken on a needy edge, similar, yet different than the one that had always been there. And there had been looks. The soulful glances, the intent gazes that seemed to devour him, that had caused his skin to flush with self-consciousness.

But still, when Sanzo had found himself pinned against the temple wall, even though his body had responded -- he was a man, after all, and not immune to temptations of the flesh -- his mind had screamed ‘NO WAY IN HELL’ like a neon sign, complete with a strobe-lit, flashing marquee. After the initial shock of having that heavenly body pressed against his, Goku’s hardness jutting into his thigh as he wormed his knee between Sanzo’s legs, Sanzo had reacted swiftly and violently.

Panic had gripped him and, when he’d roughly pushed Goku off, after the teen had landed hard on his ass, Sanzo had set on him with his fists. To the monkey’s credit, he’d taken Sanzo’s blows until he’d exhausted himself, and then had slunk away and made himself scarce until less than a month later, he’d summarily announced that he was leaving Keiun Temple, and Chang’an, for good.

There’d been nothing to say, Sanzo had decided long ago, though in retrospect he wished that he had cleared the air. Instead, two years now yawned between him and Goku -- two years of unbroken silence -- and he was left wondering why Goku had chosen now to come back to visit. In the interim, Hakkai and Gojyo had regularly stopped in, even though Hakkai was no longer Sanzo’s responsibility. He’d never asked the other two about Goku, but had assumed that Goku must have kept in touch with them, as they’d never asked after him, either.

The hours crawled by. Sanzo busied himself waiting for Goku to arrive. Morning into afternoon was spent meditating, the late afternoon, behind his desk doing paperwork, dinner taken in stony silence. It wasn’t until well into the night that the distant sound of a motor laboring up the long, windy incline that led to the temple complex had brought Sanzo out of the doze he’d fallen into while reading the evening paper. He made it to the door just as one of the monks was closing the door behind Goku.

“Goku-san, Sanzo-sama is -- “

“Right here, Liang.” Sanzo addressed the young monk.

Goku smiled at Sanzo and all the irritation that had been building inside him as the hours had whiled away evaporated. It was strange sensation; Sanzo could only stand there tongue-tied, drinking in Goku’s appearance. He’d matured, Sanzo could tell, not physically -- Goku still had the same perfectly toned body that no amount of clothing could completely hide -- but his expression had more of a worldly quality to it. He looked tired too; Sanzo could see the dark circles under Goku’s bright eyes.

“Stupid bus broke down, seven times! I finally just bagged it and hitched. Nice to know some things never change.” Goku’s smile was sheepish, chagrined, as if he expected Sanzo to admonish him for the naivety of placing his faith in public transportation.

“You hitched here?” he asked, his voice measured. There was a surreal quality to the conversation; it seemed to be a continuation, not a welcome home -- as if the two year hiatus had been an illusion.

Goku’s body visibly relaxed. “Yeah, I’ll bet I beat the bus by a full day!”

“You look exhausted. You can have your old room back for as long as you’re staying.” Sanzo crossed his arms over his chest and they both stood there in the modest anteroom, neither moving. Sanzo wondered if he was supposed to hug Goku or something, but he his body refused to budge and instead they faced off in awkward silence.

“Come, Goku-san! I’ll help you get settled!” Liang’s voice broke the still air.

Sanzo glanced at the young monk; he’d been little more than a kid when Goku had left and now stood staring in awe at the legendary monkey king. A humorless smile curved Sanzo’s lips; he never thought he’d live to see the day where Goku was welcomed in a temple. But then again, they hadn’t tried to feed the monkey yet.

“Liang,” Sanzo turned to the slender youth as he hoisted Goku’s satchel before Goku could reach for it -- the same threadbare one he’d left with, Sanzo noted. “Make sure our guest has everything that he needs while he’s visiting.” With that, Sanzo turned on his heel. He knew he was being petty, but he wanted to be the one walking away this time.

Goku cleared his throat and Sanzo imagined the surprised look that would be gracing his face should he decide to turn around.

“G’night Sanzo.”

-**-***-**-

Sanzo woke up groggy the next morning and in desperate need of a piss. He stumbled to the bathroom, swinging the door open.

“Hey! Do ya mind?” Goku’s voice rang out indignant. He was standing in front of the sink, straight razor in hand, shaving. The bathroom was steamy, humid from the shower. Sanzo stared dumbly; in his half-awake state contemplating Goku as if he were a mirage, then the razor in his hand, and finally the wink of metal that caught his eye when Goku twisted to face him. A belly ring? No, not really a ring, Sanzo squinted, more a straight-pin contraption, a barbell.

“Oh, it’s just you, Sanzo,” Goku said more to himself than out loud. The bathroom separated their two quarters, which had been a convenience when Goku was younger. His room had remained empty since his departure -- Sanzo not having the temperament to share his space with anyone. But Goku had always been the sole exception to that rule.

Sanzo stifled a snort and bit his tongue about the piercing, opting instead to blurt, “Where did you learn to use one of those?” He and the other ikkou had only ever used disposables, and Goku hadn’t had so much as peach fuzz on the journey.

Goku placed a hand on his hip and Sanzo pinned his gaze to his golden eyes, not allowing his to slide over the expanse of toned, bronze skin that disappeared under the barely-there towel that Goku had wrapped around his hips for modesty. Nothing about Goku’s body encouraged chaste thoughts, though.

Goku pursed his lips and then turned back to the mirror above the sink. “Hong Kong. At least I think it was there. Disposable blades kept tearing up my skin, an’ I needed a haircut. The barber gave me a hot shave, and I became a convert.” He scraped the razor over the shaving soap he’d lathered on his cheek.

Released from Goku’s look, Sanzo’s eyes roved over his compact body, absorbing it in before he caught himself and physically shook himself. He felt the beginnings of an arousal, which irritated him and also gave him pause. Why now? he wondered. He’d never so much as given Goku a second thought, even after the incident.

“I’ll leave you be,” he mumbled, shutting the door behind him.

By the time Sanzo had slipped a robe over his sleep pants and made his way to a nearby bathroom, he was sporting a full-blown hard-on, making relief of his bladder all but impossible to attain before jerking off.

He leaned back against the door, parting his robe and slipping his hand underneath the loose elastic waistband. His fingers slid around the rigid flesh and he exhaled a long breath as his dick responded to the sensual touch. He gripped it firmly, squeezing as he pumped, trying futilely to push the images of Goku’s lithe body from his mind, the alluring winkle of metal that only served to feed his starved libido.

He was achingly hard now, and his hand sped up of its own accord. His other hand slipped his pants off of his hips and light material slid down with a whisper to pool around his ankles and over his sandal-clad feet. He abandoned all pretenses then of ignoring that Goku was the source of his arousal, and in his mind’s eye he saw himself laying kisses on the bronzed chest he’d just been covertly ogling, his tongue seeking out the pert flesh of a dusky nipple, and then teasing over the metal that punctuated the monkey’s navel, before pinning him against the wall in a ravishing kiss.

He felt Goku’s hands skimming over his heated flesh, and imagined it was Goku’s sturdy hand wrapped around his cock. His balls tightened appreciatively as his thoughts became more lewd. Now Goku’s other hand caressed over the curve of his ass, his fingers lightly sliding into the crevasse. Sanzo let out a soft groan and tipped his head back against the door, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensations washed over him. He was nearing his release and his dirty mind was taking him to a place he’d never thought he’d find it possible to be turned on by -- after all the times he’d fought off and killed would-be rapists, he’d promised himself no one, no thing would ever penetrate him there. Yet now he craved that touch; he swallowed hard as he dreamed he felt a finger stab into his passage -- Goku’s finger -- he reminded himself, a small moan tearing at his throat as he rode one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever managed.

Sanzo didn’t know how long he rested there, weak-kneed and unable to move as wave after wave of bliss crashed over his body. It was an urgent knocking at the door vibrating his spine that brought him around, his come cooling on his hand.

“Sanzo-sama? Are you all right?” a worried, muffled voice called out through the heavy wood.

“Fine,” he muttered. He stepped away and washed the residue off of his hands, then rearranged his clothing. He had no time now for a piss, but he was pretty sure he’d find his bathroom unoccupied by now.

A shuddering sigh accompanied the slam of the door as Sanzo found his way back to the semi-private en suite. His body was still trembling from the force of his release, his mind still reeling over the images that had accompanied it. He wasn’t even attracted to Goku, he stubbornly repeated over and over to himself.

He slipped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower stall, twisting the faucets on full force. The aroma that wafted in the steam was vaguely familiar -- it was Goku -- and yet there was the hint of exotic undertones. He wrinkled his nose and picked up the bottle of shower gel Goku had left behind and flipped the lid to sniff the contents; a heady aroma of lavender and jasmine filled his nose. It was an earthy fragrance, one that Sanzo found suited Goku well. He imagined smelling it rising off of heated, bronzed skin. He dropped the plastic container as if it had scalded his fingers and turned off the hot tap. A cold shower was in order if he was ever going to make it down to breakfast.

-**-***-**-

“ ... sleeping under the open sky in the Roman Forum was just freaking mind-blowing! The stars really do look different there! But all the feral cats were a pain in the ass.”

Liang hung on every one of Goku’s words, a look of utter adoration plastered all over his face.

“Where else have you been?” he asked. Hearing Sanzo’s footfalls, he turned toward the door. “Good morning Sanzo-sama,” he offered before turning his attention back to Goku. His hands gathered empty dishes, which he laid in the sink, and he returned to the table with two bowls of ramen -- another serving for Goku and one for Sanzo.

“Tea or coffee this morning? Goku-san wanted coffee, so it’s fresh-brewed.”

“Coffee is fine.” Sanzo sat at his usual place, picking up his reading glasses that had been left for him on the table along with the morning paper.

“Just like old times,” Goku murmured softly. When Sanzo looked up, Goku’s expression was opaque, unreadable.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, deciding on the spot it would be better to ignore their earlier meeting. Liang placed a mug of steaming black coffee next to him.

“Mm hm,” Goku answered, his mouth already filled with noodles. He swallowed and turned back to Liang, smiling brightly at the youth. “Egypt. I saw the Great Pyramids. I even climbed one!”

“Tch.” Sanzo snorted. “You can’t tell me they allowed that.”

Goku drew his lips into a thin line. “I guess it wasn’t exactly allowed. But I didn’t see any signs saying ‘No Climbing on the Pyramids.’ An’ anyway, I didn’t get caught!” Goku turned back to Liang and flashed a brilliant smile. “But the best was America! I went to New York City! The buildings are so fucking tall!”

“Did you see the Statue of Liberty?”

“I did!”

“Did you climb that too?” Sanzo asked coolly.

“Uh, no.” Goku glanced at him. “You have to take a ferry out to the island.” He quieted then, and settled down to finish his meal. Sanzo snapped the paper in irritation, his ire rising when he caught glimpse of the other two exchanging glances. What the fuck was that about? he seethed.

Liang cleared his throat. “I should take care of my temple duties, it was great talking to you, Goku-san!”

“Please Liang, it’s just Goku,” Goku said around another mouthful.

“Haven’t you learned any manners, you stupid ape?” Sanzo snapped.

The icy look that met his glare surprised Sanzo. He blinked and it was gone, in its stead that same blank stare. It unnerved Sanzo. He slammed the paper and stood hurriedly, “I have work to do. How long are you planning on staying?” he asked pointedly.

“I dunno.” Goku tipped his chair back and suddenly Sanzo was aware of his powerful aura. It filled the room, caressed over his skin like an alien predator, he felt a pressure thrumming against his eardrums.

“Whatever,” he grit. He turned deliberately and stalked off to his office to lick his wounds.

-**-***-**-

The hours passed slowly again, this time the tension that Sanzo felt was directed at himself. It was all but impossible to concentrate; he kept catching himself daydreaming, no, mooning over that damned piece of metal. He skipped lunch, and would have kept himself sequestered until well past midnight without a second thought about sustenance if it hadn’t been for the soft, insistent knocking sometime in the evening. He knew it was past dinner; he’d heard the bells that signified mealtime ringing hours ago. He shook himself out of his reverie, and stared down at the pile of origami airplanes he’d created.

“Come in.”

He’d expected it to be Liang with a late snack and a cup of tea, but the tray-bearer was Goku. His smile faltered when he saw the paper airplanes and Sanzo felt no small satisfaction at the fleeting look of hurt that flitted over Goku’s face; the realization that Sanzo would rather engage in a childish craft than seek him out for company. Sanzo frowned. He was beyond petty, his behavior was bordering on cruel. He didn’t like the person he’d become.

“Why are you here?” he asked, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

“I brought you a light dinner,” Goku replied, he pushed away the delicate crafts to lay the tray in front of Sanzo.

“Why did you come back?” Sanzo rephrased.

“Because I thought –“

“You thought what? That I’d changed my mind?”

Goku’s eyes regarded him, turning a hardened gold. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Sanzo’s lip curled derisively, the pose was an artless copy of his own angry stance.

“No, you’re still the cold bastard Gojyo always told me you were. I got the message loud and clear, Sanzo – ‘no fucking way in hell, you stupid monkey’ -- I came back because I deserved a better answer than that.”

Sanzo stood up and leaned over the desk, “You wa -- “

Goku steam-rolled over his protestation, continuing, his words spilling in a torrent, his arms flailing.

“I came back because no matter how far I traveled, when I stopped, the first thing I wondered was what you were doing at that very same moment. I came back because every time I closed my eyes to go to sleep it was your face I saw gazing down at me. I came back because even after two freaking years, Sanzo,” his voice became louder and cracked, “I still love you.”

Sanzo reached across the heavy wooden desk, grabbed Goku by his shirt and yanked him forward so that their faces were inches apart. He could feel Goku’s heart pounding in his chest underneath the fist that clenched his soft shirt.

“Say that again,” he grated.

Goku only stared at him dumbly. He must have thought that he was going to be pummeled or beaten; Sanzo figured the last thing he expected was the thing that he did next. Hell, it shocked him, but every argument he’d had at the ready as to why it was WRONG had evaporated -- leaving him speechless -- when Goku uttered those three little words. Well, technically it was four, but who the fuck cared? Certainly not Sanzo as his eyes took in the luscious way Goku’s lips had parted, the glistening tip of his tongue peeking out provocatively. Sanzo felt the puff of Goku’s breath on his face. It would only take seconds for Goku to collect himself and either deck Sanzo or stalk away, or both. He had to do something, and do it quick. So he kissed him. Hard.

At first Goku was unresponsive; his body stiffened and he tried to pull away from Sanzo’s fast grip. But then his brain must have caught up to what was happening because the next thing Sanzo knew his tongue was thrusting deep inside the recesses of Goku’s mouth. And then Goku was kissing him back voraciously, drinking of him as if he’d been dying of thirst. Sanzo’s senses were filled with all things Goku, the hardness of his body beneath his fists, the scent of his soap in his nose, the taste of him on his tongue.

Sanzo yanked himself away and let go of Goku, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His heart was beating a staccato within his ribcage.

“You don’t even know the first thing about love,” he gritted, reaching for his cigarettes.

“I don’t?" Goku exclaimed incredulously. "You're one to talk! What the hell do you think that freakin’ journey was? You think we all hung around you because of your winning personality? I can’t speak for Hakkai an’ Gojyo but ... like I gave a fuck what the stupid Sanbutsushin wanted? I just wanted to be with you!”

Sanzo tamped out a stick and proceeded to light it with shaking hands. His temple was throbbing, but his lips were tingling. Kissing Goku had felt good. No. Kissing Goku had felt right. What the fuck was wrong with him? he wondered beleagueredly as he sat down heavily in his chair. He took a deep drag from his cigarette and glared at Goku.

“Bite me.”

“You wouldn’t know what love was if it bit you in the ass!” Goku hollered, throwing up his hands. His shirt rode up and Sanzo’s eye caught sight of the stupid stud that adorned his bellybutton.

“And what the hell is that thing, you idiot?” He stabbed his finger at Goku’s middle. If he kept Goku engaged, maybe the monkey would forget he kissed him. Goku glanced down and pulled his shirt up to reveal more tantalizing skin stretched over a washboard stomach.

“It’s a piercing!” Goku retorted.

Sanzo felt his mouth go dry and a flush bloom over his skin as he wrenched his eyes from the view. He let his head slam back against his high-backed chair.

“Why-ever would you do such a thing?” He exhaled a long plume of smoke.

“I dunno, I thought it was cool at the time.” Goku shrugged his shoulders.

“Tch.” Sanzo merely smoked on, a blue cloud rising above their heads.

“The stone reminded me of you, it’s amethyst.” Goku dropped the hem of his shirt. He stood in front of the desk, looking as if he wanted to add to his exposition. “Why did you kiss me?” he finally blurted.

So much for forgetting, Sanzo clenched his teeth.

“’I dunno, I thought it was cool at the time,’” he echoed Goku mockingly.

Goku snorted, his eyes slitting as he glared at Sanzo. "You're such an asshole. I don't know why I bothered." His shoulders slumped then, as if the fight had been knocked out of him, and without another word, he turned and left Sanzo alone again.

The words stung him more than he was willing to admit. Sanzo sat there in stony silence -- motionless except for the arm the brought his cigarette to his lips -- long after the sound of Goku's footfalls had stopped echoing off the tiled floor, long after his proclamation stopped echoing in Sanzo's mind. It wasn't as if Goku’s revelation had been particularly enlightening; Sanzo already knew he was a bastard. But Goku had always seen him as the sun -- something that burned bright and pure and was beyond all reproach. It bothered Sanzo that he'd been diminished in Goku's eyes, that Goku saw him for what he truly was.

When he’d smoked down to the filter, Sanzo crushed the stub in the ashtray violently, leaving a smear of charcoal and ash. He looked at the food that Goku had brought and his stomach lurched; there was no way he could eat, not with things so spiraled out of control, not with wounds festering the way they were.

“This isn’t over, monkey, not by a long shot,” he growled to the empty room before standing.

He picked up the tray and carried it back to the kitchen. It was late, later than he’d thought, and the temple was quiet. All the monks had retired to their private quarters, the students to their dorms. The staff had long since left for the day. Sanzo emptied the tray of its contents and placed the dirty dishes in the sink. He had half a mind to wash them, but he knew that was just stalling. He had to face Goku. He walked toward his living quarters as if he were being led to his execution.

Paper lanterns softly illuminated Sanzo’s room and his coverlet had been turned down for bedtime. Sanzo carefully rolled his scripture off of his shoulders, then removed the bamboo breastplate of his uniform. He stepped out of his sandals and then let his robes pool about his feet before stepping out of them. The cool evening air tickled over his bare shoulders.

Sanzo’s first thought was to barge into Goku’s room to clear the air, to set the matter to rest once and for all. But his head was swimming with emotion, his mind turning over Goku’s words -- not just the last phrase he’d uttered in defeat, but also the words Sanzo had never thought he’d hear anyone say to him; that he’d never thought he wanted anyone to feel about him. He wanted to tell Goku that it just couldn’t be, but Sanzo knew that was wrong, he didn’t have to look far to see all the times Goku had acted in ways that defined those three little words.

And if he was really being honest with himself, it had been so easy to fend Goku’s advances of because on some level Sanzo had known it all along. He’d just never believed himself to be deserving of such unconditional love.

He padded down the hall and knocked on Goku’s door.

“S’open,” he heard Goku’s muffled voice call out through the heavy panel.

Sanzo turned the knob and entered. Goku was sprawled on the bed clad only in boxers. His upper body was resting against the headboard, cushioned by one of the pillows. Sanzo’s attention was drawn to the book in Goku’s hands, The Temple of the Golden Pavilion. It was dog-eared and worn, as if it had been passed around few times, or bought from a used bookstore.

Sanzo leaned in the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. On the face of it, it looked as if Goku had forgotten the entire incident, but upon closer inspection, he saw that Goku’s bag lay packed on the only chair in the room, a set of clothes laid neatly over the back.

“Planning on leaving?”

Goku laid the book face down on the bed beside him.

“Yeah, there’s no sense me sticking around.”

“I see,” Sanzo said flatly.

“What?” Goku’s voice rose defensively.

“You say something like that to me, and you’re just ready to give up?”

“I’m not stupid Sanzo. Pig-headed, yes, but I told ya, I got your message.”

“Yes, that you did. But I don’t think the miscommunication was on your part. I wasn’t listening to you. I pretended that I didn’t know what was happening.”

“Yeah, well --“

“I’m not going to tell you that I love you.”

“I don’t care, Sanzo! All I want to know now is why you kissed me.” Goku sat forward on the bed and Sanzo’s eyes were drawn down Goku’s midline, the hollow of his sternum, the long indent of muscle that led to his navel. The damned amethyst jewel twinkled in the low light, incandescent oranges and reds amidst its pale purple depths.

He raised his gaze. He owed Goku the truth. “Because it felt right. Because once I got over the anger of you just taking off, I realized that I missed all your annoying little traits. I missed you always underfoot, the incessant chattering.” Sanzo dropped his hands to his sides. “I missed you,” he said finally.

For the second time that night Goku looked at him in stunned silence before he croaked, “Sanzo, what are you saying?”

“Don’t go.” He approached the bed. “I -- I don’t want you to.”

Goku returned his gaze, his soulful eyes locked on Sanzo’s face. “I thought it was exactly what you wanted.”

“I did too, but I was wrong.” He sat down on the edge of the mattress. “Pushing you away was wrong, it was the easy way out.” He was opening up to Goku, something he never imagined he would do with anyone after Koumyou.

“What do you want from me, then?” The frustration oozed from every syllable.

“Kiss me.”

Goku’s eyes widened and he stared at Sanzo in shock.

“Now, damn it!” Sanzo leaned forward, closing the distance between them. He wondered if Goku was going to meet him halfway or leave him hanging, making him go the distance.

And then Goku’s lips met his. It was different this time, not that one kiss was much of a comparison, but Sanzo knew that there would be many more to compare it to, because now that he’d allowed for this, there was no way in hell he was letting Goku leave again. The kiss was much softer than the one before, though it was every bit as needy.

Sanzo tangled his fingers in Goku’s soft hair, settling his hand at the nape of his neck. He pulled Goku closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue first sliding over Goku’s plump lower lip before plumbing the depths of his mouth. Sanzo’s other hand splayed over Goku’s toned chest and the pads of his fingers traced over the sculpted expanse. Goku sighed, his voice turning into a soft wine when Sanzo teased a nipple into full hardness between his forefinger and thumb. The sounds Goku made were delightful to his ear and Sanzo’s dick twitched in reaction. Goku’s skin felt marvelous to the touch -- smooth, hot, full of life. Goku’s tongue worked into Sanzo’s mouth, skating over his lips before tentatively pressing further in, the muscle sliding along his. The back of a hand brushed across Sanzo’s cheek and he leaned into the sensation, his hand duplicated his efforts on the other nub.

Goku arched into the touch and his hand pulled at Sanzo’s shoulder; slowly they descended onto the bed, Sanzo between Gokus’s parted legs, his body partially covering the compact frame that he’d denied for so long. He dipped his head and his tongue traced a path down the shallow indent of Goku’s sternum. Neither of them was able to hold back now, hands roved wantonly over heated flesh. At some point Sanzo felt a gentle tug at the silk tank he was wearing and he lifted his head from his task only long enough to let the garment slip over his head. Goku moaned appreciatively at the hot skin his hands had now been afforded access. Sanzo attacked a dusky nipple that he’d just been teasing, worrying it with his tongue after clamping down on it. The action elicited a gasp that turned into a groan when Sanzo pulled the trapped flesh away from Goku’s body.

“Sanzo!” Goku cried out.

He let go of the tortured flesh and raised his gaze to meet burning amber embers.

“I don’t want you to leave. Ever,” he rasped.

Sanzo crushed their mouths together, pressing Goku further into the pillows, then leveraged them until he was lying on his back, Goku now on top, straddling him, his hands on either side of Sanzo’s head. He stared down at Sanzo, his chestnut hair framing his face.

“I won’t. Ever.”

Sanzo’s hands slid down Goku’s sides, greedily absorbing the energy that seemed to rise off his skin. He felt the bulge of Goku’s erection pressed between their bodies and rolled his hips, pleased by the way Goku’s eyelashes fluttered and a small “oh” escaped his lips in response.

“So now that you have me, what are you going to do?” A teasing smile played on Sanzo’s lips, belying the tenseness in his body as he waited for Goku’s answer.

A broad grin broke Goku’s face. “Eat ya!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.

Sanzo’s head dropped back to the pillow, a groan of defeat falling from his lips. The next thing he knew, though, Goku’s hot mouth was covering his chest, his tongue circling an aureole. When sharp teeth tenderly clamped around the nub, he hissed and bucked his hips. The sensations from earlier in the day flooded his mind and his breath hitched. Fantasizing was one thing, but now, here in the confines of the spare room where the monkey had spent his adolescence -- living, breathing Goku frotting wantonly, his ass rubbing against Sanzo’s rigid erection – the thought of being penetrated sent a stab of fear through Sanzo. It brought Goku up short, his gold-flecked eyes sharp, alerted to the subtle shift in the man below him.

“I’ll stop.” His lips were flushed and kiss-swollen and Sanzo stared at them, his chest heaving lightly with his arousal, his brain desperately trying to get his tongue to work. Goku tried to dismount.

“I’ll kill you.” Sanzo gritted, his hands grabbing Goku’s biceps in a vise-like grip.

Goku’s eyes widened. “Okay! Okay!” he exclaimed hurriedly, sitting back down. Hard. Sanzo let out a small gasp of breath. Goku stared at him with an intensity that burned right through him. And then he clambered off. “Someone’s coming,” he hissed.

As if on cue, Sanzo heard a muffled knock and a voice calling through the door to his room. He was up in a flash, grabbing for his tank and sliding it back over his head in one fluent motion. He strode through the adjoining bathroom and into his quarters.

The third set of knocks earned a growled, “What is it?”

“Sanzo-sama, are you okay? You did not eat dinner tonight.”

“I’m fine, Liang,” he answered loud enough for his voice to penetrate through the closed door. He didn’t feel like facing anyone.

“Would you like me to fix you something?”

A stiff drink. “No, that’s all right. Goku brought me something earlier.” There was no response, but Sanzo imagined that Liang was standing outside his door, waiting. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” Sanzo intoned, indicating the young monk was dismissed.

The mood now broken, Sanzo sat heavily on his bed and rubbed his face with his palms. He couldn’t exactly expect to pick up where they’d left off. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his bare shoulder.

“This and those -- they need to come off, now.” Goku’s voice was low and commanding. Sanzo opened his eyes to the glow of amethyst, the obvious arousal tenting Goku’s boxer shorts. He didn’t bother looking up; instead he wrapped his arms around Goku’s waist and pulled him close. He tongued over the jewelry and felt Goku’s body vibrating in his arms. He took the barbell in his mouth and tugged on it with his teeth. Goku expelled his breath in a hiss and he fisted Sanzo’s hair, pressing his face against his muscular form. He let out another ragged breath when Sanzo slid to his knees in front of him.

He gazed up now, taking in the contours of Goku’s body, catching the rise and fall of his chest. His fingers curled over the elastic waistband and Sanzo tugged the under shorts off of Goku’s pelvis, letting them fall to the floor. His fingertips grazed over his narrow hips as they traversed the globes of his perfect ass. Sanzo breathed deep, the scent of Goku’s arousal twisting his belly in knots. His tongue extended to lap at the precome glistening on the head of Goku’s unfettered cock and, as Goku moaned and rolled his hips, Sanzo opened his mouth wider, accepting more of the engorged flesh.

Goku cried out and his grip on Sanzo’s hair tightened painfully. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity down Sanzo’s spine causing his cock to twitch and his balls to tighten appreciatively. He wanted to feel alive, to lose control, to let Goku in, to let him have all of him. All these thoughts – desires -- swirled about his head as the flavor of Goku’s essence filled his mouth. Sanzo found he was craving more of the milky fluid. His tongue delved into the slit at the tip of Goku’s cock and he was rewarded with more of a taste. Goku moaned, the sound vibrating his body, the tenor changing to a feral growl when Sanzo applied suction.

With one last lick Sanzo reluctantly pulled away. Still on his knees, he gazed up into smoldering eyes.

“I want you to fuck me,” he rasped.

Goku’s grip relaxed and his fingers slid over Sanzo’s sculpted cheeks. His brow furrowed slightly and he returned the gaze warily. “You sure?”

Sanzo knew Goku implicitly understood his history; there were certain things he would not do, even more that he would never allow. But just two years ago he’d said that this would never happen. Two years ago, he’d been under the impression that Goku would never leave him, either. But he had, and in the interim, Sanzo could sense how much the boy who’d left had changed, while he’d just stagnated. He didn’t want to be that cold-hearted bastard anymore.

At least, not to Goku. Goku meant too much to him. The rest of the world be damned.

“I am.”

He slid back up to perch on the edge of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. Goku stepped back and Sanzo stood, his eyes locked with Goku’s. They slid down the bronze skin that glowed in the candlelight.

Sanzo undid his button-fly and pushed his jeans down off of his hips, hissing as his erection was freed from the confines of the tight garment.

He watched as Goku’s eyes were drawn down his lean body, and then a hand reached out to trace over the jut of a hip, then curved over his thigh to palm his length.

He pulled away and crawled onto the bed settling on his hands and knees. Dead silence descended upon the room, and he felt the loss of Goku’s presence. After a few moments, Sanzo hazarded a glance over his shoulder.

“Sanzo, no! Not like that.” Goku approached the bed, laying something on the night table beside the bed. “I want to see your face,” he said softly. “I want to make love to you, not fuck you.” Blunt nails scraped along his spine and then Goku’s hand slipped over his ass, fingers skimming over the crevasse, brushing lightly against his entrance. Sanzo shivered and lowered himself to the bed. He felt the heat of embarrassment flushing his face. He settled onto his back, his face buried in the crook of an elbow. He felt a dip in the mattress from Goku’s added weight and then Goku gently pulled his arm away.

“That isn’t to say later ...” his face split in a wicked grin. He lay down beside Sanzo, his head propped on an elbow. Sanzo felt vulnerable, lying there on his back, fully exposed to Goku. He closed his eyes, willing the sick pit in his stomach away.

He felt the press of Goku’s lips against his, the fringe of Goku’s hair tickling his cheek as the kiss deepened. A hand slid down Sanzo’s midline, detouring first at one, then the other peaked nub pointing his chest. Sanzo writhed under the touch, a soft moan escaping his lips only to be absorbed by Goku’s greedy mouth. The groan became louder when Goku pinched the tender flesh between thumb and forefinger.

Goku pulled away, panting lightly. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, and Sanzo would have had a sharp retort for such a foolish sentiment if it hadn’t been spoken with such reverence. Instead he could only answer with touches of his own. In the flicker of the candles, Goku glowed in an ethereal light. Sanzo traced the curve of his jaw, feathered over his corded neck.

Goku cupped his balls and rolled them, then delved further between Sanzo’s legs. At the same time, he captured Sanzo in a fierce kiss. As Goku’s tongue pushed past the barrier of his teeth, a finger breached Sanzo’s entrance. He clenched against the intrusion, his body stiffening. Goku broke the kiss.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “I’ll stop if you want me too.” The sound of Goku’s voice strengthened his resolve. He knew Goku would never hurt him, never take advantage of him. Hell, Sanzo knew he could turn the tables and Goku would never complain, never give it a second thought. It was Sanzo who needed to push his own boundaries.

Goku’s hard-on was digging into his hip. “Just get on with it,” Sanzo gritted, his eyes screwing shut.

Goku snorted, pulling out.

Sanzo grabbed him by the wrist, urging his hand back between his legs. “I can’t do hearts and rainbows.”

“Fuck! Ya can just try to enjoy yourself,” Goku snapped.

Sanzo took a deep breath. It would be so easy to feed into the tension and frustration that was filling the room and let Goku have it. But Goku hadn’t asked for any of this; he’d been the one to press for it.

“I am.” He brought his gaze to Goku’s face, then lowered his lashes. He dropped Goku’s arm.

“I know,” Goku agreed quietly. Sanzo heard him take a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do. I should be more considerate, but it’s just you got me so hot an’ bothered before --“

“Look, stop worrying about me.”

“Too late for that.”

Sanzo knew the veracity of that flippant remark. He didn’t need to think back too far to find reminders of it; Goku had always watched out for him. It had been reassuring during the mission, though Sanzo would never have admitted to that. But while he’d wondered if Hakkai simply served him out of a sense of gratitude for his intervention with the Sanbutsushin, and Gojyo because he had the hots for Hakkai, Sanzo had never once questioned Goku’s allegiance.

“Sanzo, c’n I ask ya something?”

He nodded his head.

“Are you still a virgin?”

“No.” Technically he wasn’t, but he’d never been penetrated, either. And he’d only had sex when his partner was on all fours. Sanzo had never wanted to look at anyone’s face when he was screwing them; as it was, they’d simply been taking care of mutual needs, there really was no intimacy to it. But with Goku it was different. They knew each other better than anyone else did.

His answer seemed to satisfy Goku, because the next thing Sanzo knew, Goku was laying a trail of kisses down his torso. He lay his head back, letting it sink into the pillow, and tried to relax, to be in the moment. He needed to do this for himself; he owed it to Goku.

He focused on each kiss that sent a thrill coursing through his body, and as Goku worked lower and lower, repositioning himself between Sanzo’s legs, he felt his arousal surging once again.

Goku’s mouth hovered uncertainly over Sanzo’s erection before he lowered his head and licked the underside from his balls to the tip. His tongue swirled over the crown and Sanzo’s hands tangled in Goku’s hair, a silent plea.

Slowly Goku took him in, his moist heat engulfing Sanzo’s length and Sanzo let out a long, soft groan. His fingers massaged Goku’s scalp as his head bobbed up and down Sanzo’s length a few more times.

When Goku pulled away, Sanzo felt the loss acutely. His hands slipped from their purchase and came to a rest by his sides. He felt his knees being urged apart. At first he resisted, but then he relented under the firm, insistent pressure. Goku’s head sunk further between Sanzo’s legs. He sucked first one ball and then the other into his mouth, and Sanzo couldn’t help but wonder where Goku had learned all these things. Before he let his mind skitter off into that direction, he admonished himself. He had no right to be jealous; he’d turned the younger man away.

A tender nip to his perineum brought Sanzo’s thoughts back to the moment at hand, all attention focusing on the sensation of Goku’s tongue as it soothed the tender flesh. Hands pushed Sanzo’s thighs apart, and then that hot muscle was laving over his entrance. Sanzo fisted the bed linens, a soft whine escaping his lips. His aching cock twitched and copious amounts of precome leaked from the tip and pooled on his belly.

“Goku,” he whispered hoarsely. He was opening up, emotionally and physically. By the time he felt the first intrusion of the tip of Goku’s hot, wet tongue, Sanzo was sure that he wouldn’t last very long. All doubts stemming from thoughts of being penetrated melted away as the slick muscle wriggled its way further into his opening.

”Fuck!” he hissed. He brought his feet closer to his body and let his knees fall to each side, opening himself completely to the sweet assault. Goku’s tongue slipped further in and an arm curled around Sanzo’s leg. He palmed Sanzo’s erection and began to stroke it and thrust with his tongue in a coordinated effort.

Just when Sanzo thought he could take no more, Goku stopped. Climbing to his knees he pinned Sanzo with a dark gaze of wanton lust, then leaned forward to grab the vial of massage oil he’d left on the night stand. Sanzo’s hands slid up his sides and he arched off the bed to suckle a peaked nipple. Goku gasped, redoubling his efforts. When Sanzo released his hold on the sensitive nub, he glanced down Goku’s body, hungrily watching him prepare himself.

“Hurry,” he gasped. “I need you.” His hands skimmed Goku’s narrow hips and then his fingertips grazed over the purple, engorged flesh. Goku hissed out a ragged breath as he pushed Sanzo’s legs out further.

He’d never seen such a beautiful sight -- Goku, wild-eyed and needy in a way that made Sanzo’s body ache for completion. He felt the blunt tip brush against his opening then return, a demanding pressure. Goku’s body inched slowly over Sanzo’s and he wrapped his arms around Goku’s broad shoulders. Their eyes were locked together as the slow burn of the penetration gave way to the overwhelming need for more. He wanted Goku in deeper, wanted Goku’s body closer, fuck, he wanted, no he needed Goku to screw him into oblivion.

He snapped his hips, his muscles clenching against Goku’s shaft as he became embedded to the hilt. The friction was searing but it was driving Sanzo mad. He thrashed his head about, only stopping when Goku’s hands fisted his hair and he crushed their mouths together.

And then suddenly, joined as one, they moved in unison. Goku thrust powerfully into him and Sanzo met him with every drive. They gasped and moaned and rubbed their bodies together, feeding off of each other’s lips, feeding off of the energy that swirled around them; that diffused between each other. The candlelight danced and flickered, echoing their movements. Sanzo wrapped his legs about the base of Goku’s spine and urged him on, silently begging him for more, to fuck him harder. Blindly, Goku’s hands traced reverently over the planes of Sanzo’s face even as he instinctively thrust deeper, encouraged by the change in their positions. Now he was hitting Sanzo’s prostate and this newest sensation had Sanzo crying out wantonly with every drive. He felt his climax rushing upon him and as he peaked, his hot seed coating their bodies. Sanzo grabbed Goku’s head roughly and captured him in a brutal kiss. Goku’s thrusts grew slower and more erratic as Sanzo rode out the waves of his release; and then suddenly Goku gave a great thrust and his body shuddered to a halt. He lowered himself until Sanzo’s body fully supported his weight.

The lay there, still coupled, for several minutes, their hearts pounding against each other’s chests. Finally Goku stirred, gingerly disentangling himself from Sanzo, his spent cock sliding out. Sanzo lay there, boneless, vaguely aware of the shift in the mattress as Goku stood. He wondered if that was all there was to it, if Goku would just leave him be now. The thought caused the sickening pit in his stomach to rise.

“I’ll be right back,” Goku said softly. Sanzo only tilted his head to look at the ceiling, the nausea slowly dissipating. He heard the faucet running in the bathroom, then Goku’s soft tread across the threadbare rug. A warm, damp washcloth swabbed over his chest and Sanzo turned his head; he was moved by the concentration, the concern evident in Goku’s expression and the way in which he took care to clean up his spend. Goku raised his head.

“You okay?”

Sanzo nodded his head, then reached out for Goku. He disentangled the rag from his hand and tossed it aside. “More than.” His lips curved into a small smile. “But there’s one more thing that I want.”

Goku cocked his head to the side, eying him questioningly.

“You.”