The Devil His Due

When he closed his eyes Sanzo could still see Gojyo's angry, accusing face, and hear the words the half-breed had spit at him. Sanzo knew that Gojyo's reaction to the catastrophe that had befallen the ikkou shouldn't have been able to get under his skin the way it had; neither Gojyo nor Hakkai were privy to the understanding that he and Goku had reached only seconds before those shots had rung out. Gojyo had no idea that Sanzo's actions -- turning his back Goku while he lay dying -- had been the hardest thing that the monk had ever done, except perhaps, not interfering with Hakkai's attempts at reviving Goku. It's what he wanted, Sanzo repeated to himself, a phrase now so familiar to him that it had become something of a new mantra. Opening them again, Sanzo was drawn back into the present, and into the limpid pools of Hazel's artificial adoration. Sanzo snorted lightly to himself. When he'd departed that scene the second time, this time in search of the holy man and his gigantic traveling companion, he'd been smarting still from Hakkai's slap and Gojyo's venomous words.

Sanzo had thought Hazel would be an easy mark for the information he was after, but instead the monk had been immersed in a game of cat and mouse that he was tired of before he could even put a name on it, and ultimately it had turned out to be a colossal, fucking waste of his time. It didn't help that this latest delay in his mission had come at the expense of his own miscalculation -- his underestimation of the Bishop Grouse's wiles. And so Sanzo had spent fruitless days sniffing around Hazel like a starving fox eying a well-protected chicken coop, each passing hour loosening a little more the tenuous grip he had on his humanity; Goku's stabilizing influence growing weaker and weaker as Sanzo put more distance between himself and the rest of the ikkou. There was irony -- that it had been Goku who'd kept Sanzo tethered, when the entire world, and the heavens above for that matter, had expected him to keep the Great Sage in line.

Yet Sanzo knew he'd failed spectacularly in that regard, as his last sighting of Goku had proven -- the Seiten Taisei's unconscious form, expression strangely peaceful, oblivious to Gojyo's frantic efforts to revive Hakkai. But that revelation had already paled next to the one Sanzo had learned only minutes prior; that he'd utterly botched his careful crafting of his tenet to 'hold nothing.' When Goku had dropped like a stone mid-conversation, all Sanzo's preaching and practicing of muichi motsu had been exposed as a brilliant sham; exploded into a billion shards as he knelt dumbly, gathering Goku in his arms, watching helplessly as his life force slipped from Sanzo's grasp.

"Y'all seem about a million miles away, Mister Sanzo. I din't think ma company was that much of an obligation to suffer," Hazel remarked in his laconic drawl, his lips poised over his crystal goblet of red wine.

Sanzo smiled the devil's grin at his dinner mate. He already knew the terms of the deal he was about to make; his only solace was that Hazel would get what was coming to him. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of his bargain earlier; it would have finished this pointless jaunt days ago.

"You know why I'm here," he grated, the smile still plastered to his face.

Hazel made a show of feeling hurt. "An' here I thought we were at the gettin' ta know each other a little better stage." He sliced his filet mignon with delicate hands then brought the bloody morsel to his lips. It hung there for a moment while crystal blue eyes locked with Sanzo's, a winsome smile curving Hazel's mouth. "A'courtin', if you will."

Sanzo only rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw before he lowered his gaze.

Perfectly even white teeth prepared to clench around the beef. "Such a shame you don't eat meat, Mister Sanzo, y'all don't know what you're missin'." Sanzo watched the mouthful disappear and then brought his eyes back to Hazel's with a start. The bishop continued to chew, oblivious to the suggestive subtext of his comment. Sanzo picked up his chopsticks and poked half-heartedly at his bowl of plain white rice.

"Ah do find it mighty innaresting, though," Hazel continued after taking a sip of red wine, his eyes pinned on Sanzo, "that a religion that can afford to craft idols out of solid gold and erect such opulent palaces of worship would accord its holy men to live as ascetics."

Sanzo bit his tongue, offering only a muttered "to each their own." It wasn't as if he was a good monk; rather, it was that he'd seen so much blood and gore, beginning with his master's murder and continuing through his journeys, that the thought of it on his plate turned his stomach. He set the chopsticks down, his capricious appetite having once again fled him. Instead, he reached for his cup of oolong tea and took a sip of the steaming beverage.

"Ah declare Mister Sanzo, y'all gonna whither away ta nothin' if ya don't eat. Ah can't imagine you're still broken up over that demon boy."

"Goku." Sanzo glared daggers. "His name is Goku." He knew Hazel was deliberately provoking him, and he berated himself for allowing the bishop to get a rise out of him.

Hazel's eyes hardened slightly. "If'n ya don't mind my sayin', that demon, Son Goku, is gonna be the death of you, Mister Sanzo."

"I do mind. His welfare is my responsibility," Sanzo gritted. Was, he corrected silently.

"Well, then. I guess this is just one point we'll have to agree to disagree on, now won't we, Mister Sanzo?"

One of many. "That's fine by me." Sanzo stared into his cup, contemplating the reflection of light on the surface of the liquid. In the silence that yawned from this latest bone of contention, Hazel continued to eat and drink to his content while Sanzo pointedly avoided looking in the bishop's direction. Absently, Sanzo picked up his tea, which had cooled considerably. He gulped down what was left and then poured another cup.

"Then again, what does one expect when one consorts with demons?" The question hung over them, a deliberate challenge.

"I don't consort with anyone." Sanzo found his jaw clenching as he bit back his ire.

Hazel regarded him evenly, his lips moving to speak but then he seemed to think the better of it and, instead took another bite of his steak. Sanzo watched, fascinated by the relish in which Hazel attacked his food. It reminded the monk of Goku, but there the similarity ended. Sanzo had never believed that Goku truly enjoyed eating. His consumption was borne from a desperate hunger Sanzo could only begin to fathom. Hazel, on the other hand, acted as if each meal he ate was heavenly, an act that brought him closer to his God.

"An' that's a right pity," Hazel remarked, the mirth in his eyes belying the embellished sad affect to his voice.

The bishop was nothing if not persistent, Sanzo thought as he closed his eyes. A fire was heating the suite Hazel had let, the warmth pleasantly radiated over his body. The edge that he always felt around the other man seemed blunted by the soft flicker of the flames and the crackling of the burning wood.

A hand resting on his brought Sanzo's eyes open with a start. He looked down at the delicate fingers that rested against his skin, noting the elegant bend of each digit, the perfectly manicured nails. Sanzo's eyes traced the pale, unblemished flesh of Hazel's hand to his wrist until it disappeared into the voluminous sleeve of his cleric's attire.

"A damned shame, really." Hazel continued softly.

"Not that it's any of your business," Sanzo retorted, immediately annoyed with himself that his comment lacked any teeth.

"No, it rightly isn't," Hazel agreed, but rather than withdrawing his hand, his fingers lightly massaged the back of Sanzo's. "But we are both men of the flesh, as the sayin' goes, and as such, succumb to it on occasion," he winked his complicity.

He should have hated the contact, that much Sanzo knew for sure, but he found that he didn't. In fact, if he was completely honest with himself Sanzo could admit it was mildly arousing. It wasn't as if Hazel was without charm, Sanzo reasoned, though he certainly wasn't someone that Sanzo would normally be remotely interested in. But his attention, unwanted as it was, would have been considered flattering by any one else. And the bishop did have a point.

His hand slipped Hazel's grasp and Sanzo reached for his cup, taking another long draught of his tea, willing the growing interest away. He wasn't there for his own gratification.

"Where's Gat?"

"Why, Mister Sanzo, you aren't afraid ta be left alone with me, are ya? I'm not some big bad wolf's gonna eat ya. That is unless that's somethin' ya might be entertainin' ..." Sanzo didn't miss the hopeful inflection, but his murderous glare stopped the conversation short. Hazel turned his attention back to his dinner plate.

The silence stretched on. Hazel finished his meal and daintily wiped his lips against the crisp linen napkin that had lain in his lap. He settled back comfortably in his chair, drinking his wine. Despite the tea, Sanzo found a heaviness had settled in his limbs, not unlike the way they felt after a day of riding in Jeep over rough terrain. Sanzo drained his second cup of tea and then poured himself a third.

"Mercy! All that caffeine, you're gonna be up all night, Mister Sanzo!" Hazel remarked, his observation punctuated with a soft giggle. Sanzo glowered in his direction. It was the one thing the monk hadn't been able to get a bead on -- whether or not Hazel was aware of his double entendres. The wide blue eyes that gazed into his indicated otherwise, but Sanzo realized it could just be the bishop's best poker face. Despite Hazel's affable demeanor, Sanzo was well aware that one didn't rise to the position of bishop without an iron will and an inclination to be ruthless to opposition.

"You never answered my question."

"An' you never took such an innarest in Gat, before, Mister Sanzo. Ah confess, I'm feeling a might jealous." Sanzo arched a brow and whatever Hazel was going to add died on his lips. Sanzo averted his gaze, back to the elegant hand that had dared to touch him. Having Hazel alone was most opportune, he decided.

Hazel leaned closer, dipping his head until his face filled Sanzo's field of vision. "Ol' Gat had some errands ta run, if ya must know, Mister Sanzo. Ah think, too, he sensed that we wanted some privacy. But he should be back after a spell," he added softly, batting his eyelashes. "He can be mighty perceptive that way."

Even, white, carnivorous teeth glistened behind Hazel's peach-colored lips. They held Sanzo's fascination for a moment before he visibly shook himself out of the torpor that threatened to envelop him.

"What is it that you want?"

Hazel feigned a hurt expression. "Mister Sanzo, th'pleasure of your company is more than a humble man such as myself could ever hope for." His tone was equally exaggerated, but then Hazel's gaze sharpened. "Y'all, however, have some ulterior motives, now don't ya?"

"I believe I've been up front right from the beginning," Sanzo grated, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I suppose you're right," Hazel agreed blandly. He raised the wine bottle and poured himself another glance. "Back where Ah come from, what they'd call this little situation we find ourselves embroiled in, Mister Sanzo, a Mexican Standoff," he remarked, settling back into his chair, a predatory smile gracing his lips.

The thought crossed Sanzo's mind that he should just dispense with the pleasantries and level his Smith and Wesson between Hazel's avaricious blue eyes, yet he knew that the bishop would probably go to his maker before he gave up by force the name Sanzo was seeking. Sanzo's trigger finger twitched and he huffed irritably.

Unfazed, Hazel leaned forward again and continued, his hand now coming to rest on Sanzo's forearm. The leather-clad skin tingled underneath the touch, not unpleasantly. "It doesn't hafta be a lose-lose situation, though. Quid pro quo an' all that." Hazel slid his chair closer despite Sanzo's warning glance.

"It gets awfully lonely, dun't it?" Hazel gazed probingly into Sanzo's eyes. "Two men of the cloth taking refuge in one another, does that sound like such an awful thing?" he asked coyly.

He wanted to recoil, to level Hazel, to make him eat his words, but a niggling voice in his head echoed the bishop's sentiment. There had been many times on the journey that he'd ached with need, where he'd wanted nothing more than to fuck or be fucked mindlessly, but he'd resisted all temptation; had refused to give in to his base desires. He'd sufficed with a hasty wank here and there, but only after his need had built up, far outweighing his substantial control over his bodily desires.

Sanzo knew that Gojyo would have been more than willing to bang him into oblivion, and there were times when Sanzo had nearly succumbed to that siren's call, but the careful balance of the ikkou would be upended should he take one as a lover -- even if it were only as a matter of convenience -- and a small part of Sanzo had bridled at the thought of the kappa topping him.

What would be the harm? He certainly had no plans on ever seeing Hazel again, unless the bishop continued to get in the way of his mission. He could just take what the bishop was offering ...

He almost pulled away in disgust but then the liquid gold of Goku's eyes flashed in his mind, nearly blinding Sanzo, nearly doubling him over with the intensity of his response. This was for him. Since he couldn't protect Goku when he'd needed to; he'd make damned certain the bastard that got the best of Sanzo would pay. Only, Hazel stood in his way, but here he was, offering himself in fair exchange.

Returning to the present, Sanzo realized that Hazel was waiting expectantly for his answer. Sanzo shook off the feather-light hand that rested on his arm and reached out, his fist clenching at the garments that covered the bishop's chest. Sanzo hauled him forward, momentarily unbalanced by how easy it was to unseat Hazel, how the mass of his body had a birdlike quality; the bishop fell to his knees before him.

Hazel gasped, but before the surprised look on his face could dissipate, Sanzo's other hand cupped the back of Hazel's head and his face drew close. Sanzo stopped, their lips just millimeters apart. Every fiber in his body was on fire now with the anticipation of what was to come, and Sanzo found that the light cologne that Hazel favored was intoxicating savored as it wafted off of his skin.

"I want the name," Sanzo whispered vehemently against Hazel's lips before he crushed their mouths together in a brutal kiss. Yes, he would play the whore for the information that he needed, but it would be on his terms.

The small sound of surprise that vibrated in the back of Hazel's throat only served to fuel the fire coursing through Sanzo's veins. He was hard -- achingly so -- and soon he became consumed by the desire to bury his cock deep in the bishop's ass.

Hazel struggled against him, which only incited Sanzo's arousal further, but then the voice of reason prevailed and he released his hold on the slender man. When he took in Hazel's shocked expression, regarded the lip that his teeth had bloodied, Sanzo's mouth curved into a wicked grin.

"Afraid Ah'm gonna eat ya, Bishop Grouse?" he asked, mimicking Hazel's earlier taunt.

"That isn't it at all, Mister Sanzo," Hazel defended, his voice sounding breathless and shaky. "Ah just think two refined men such as ourselves should retire to tha bed room. He made a move to get up off his knees but Sanzo found that position far too alluring; he laid a hand on a narrow shoulder, preventing Hazel from rising.

"I'd think a man such as yourself, Bishop, would be used to spending a good deal of time on his knees." Once again Sanzo's lips descended upon Hazel's. This time, Sanzo's tongue skated over the abrasion he'd caused, lapping at it hungrily before he ravaged Hazel's mouth wantonly.

Hazel whimpered at the action and Sanzo's dick throbbed in response. The bishop tasted of blood and wine and suddenly Sanzo couldn't get enough of the potent mixture. His hands groped Hazel's body roughly, his fingers itching to mark that alabaster skin. As far as Sanzo was concerned, the room was far too warm and they were both wearing far too much; his hands slid down Hazel's vestments and over the demure collar that hugged his throat, to tug irritably at the yoke of the slender man's robe.

"Off, now!" Sanzo growled, yanking harder at the material. He heard a small 'pop' as a seam gave. The sound, though, had Hazel springing into action, he tipped back onto his heels, pulled the heavy garment over his head and flung it away carelessly.

"Tit for tat," Hazel grinned lasciviously, lifting one end of the sash around Sanzo's waist.

He stood up and Hazel pulled, unraveling the knot and letting the swath of fabric fall to the ground. Sanzo carefully rolled the sutra off of his shoulders, the ritual movement centering him, but oddly enough, he found that the pit he was sure would be forming in his stomach was absent. Nor was his skin crawling at the thought of Hazel ogling and pawing at it. Not that Sanzo planned on the bishop doing much more than caterwauling like the wanton hussy he so aptly played.

Sanzo undid the bamboo breastplate as Hazel's hands slipped between his loosened robe. His first instinct was to kick at the other man viciously, but when one hand lazily palmed over the rigid bulge in his groin, that thought vanished as quickly as it had been ideated. Sanzo's hand fisted Hazel's silver fringe, and he forced the bishop's face against his jeans-covered cock. "You'd rightly want to make sure it's well-lubricated," he hissed mockingly.

Hungry blue eyes looked up his lean body, and from their darkened depths Sanzo gleaned that Hazel was used to being pushed to his limits. Perhaps, he even liked it a little rough. Whatever helped him justify his sins was not Sanzo's concern, but he had no inclination to be gentle.

His fist tightened its grip. "In case I wasn't clear, I want you to suck me off," he gritted.

He could have sworn he heard Hazel giggle as the bishop's hot breath, filtered through the denim of his jeans, caressed Sanzo's dick. Sanzo stared down at the halo of silvery hair and watched through lidded eyes as Hazel artfully tongued at the tab of his zipper and then pulled his fly down with his teeth. Now the hot breath blew over his sensitive flesh and Sanzo pressed his groin against Hazel's face. He felt the button at his waistband give and Hazel pulled away as Sanzo's tumescent cock, now unfettered, jutted out from between the zipper's teeth. His hands guided Hazel's mouth back towards the glistening tip and the bishop accepted it, engulfing Sanzo in moist heat. Hazel applied suction as his mouth slid back and Sanzo snapped his hips, growling in frustration, in want, in need. He couldn't believe how utterly fantastic it felt, the sensation only heightened when he gazed down his body to watch his dick slide in and out of Hazel's mouth. At least he'd found a better use for it, and shut the bishop up too. Killed two birds with one stone, Sanzo thought to himself, grinning viciously.

Hazel, it turned out, had quite the repertoire when it came to cock-sucking and soon, despite himself, Sanzo's hands slipped from the bishop's silken hair to grip the arms of his chair in a death-like vise that barely managed to keep him upright. He could feel his legs trembling from the onslaught, and when Hazel added teeth, scraping along the monk's shaft, a low moan escaped Sanzo's lips. The chuckled response that emanated from around his dick infuriated Sanzo; he bucked his hips, thrusting his cock deeper into Hazel's hot mouth. Surprisingly, the bishop easily accommodated him, which only served to arouse Sanzo further. He felt his lust spiraling upward and the need for completion overwhelmed all the other desires that had been competing within him. Sanzo began to fuck Hazel's mouth in earnest, tilting his chin down to watch the lurid show. Hazel's settled his hands on the hard rise of Sanzo's hips and he hummed along the length of flesh that slipped in and out between his lips. Sanzo felt his balls tightening from the heady vibration and his hands shot forward to fist Hazel's hair. His hips still pistoned, and now he forced Hazel's head to move too, creating a push-pull that was mind-numbingly intense. Sanzo was heedless of the bishop's comfort or lack thereof and, when Hazel managed a choked gurgle around his engorged flesh, the quality of the sound pushed Sanzo over the edge. He came hard, deep inside Hazel's mouth, his vision momentarily whitening.

Suddenly aware of the way in which he'd just used Hazel, Sanzo release him and moved to withdraw. His action was stopped by Hazel's hands tightening, an iron grip to his hips. Instead of releasing him, Hazel continued to suck and lick Sanzo's now semi-soft cock, before finally allowing it to slip from swollen, rosy lips. The blood rushed from his head and Sanzo fell back into his chair, dizzy, his eyes fluttering shut before he regarded Hazel through the fringe of his lashes.

"They teach you that in seminary?" he asked, his voice a little shakier than he would have liked.

Hazel thumbed a droplet of cum from his lips and then licked the digit clean. "You could say I was an avid pupil in some of the extracurricular offerings." Sanzo nodded his head sleepily, he felt boneless after Hazel's ministrations.

"Ya aren't so cruel as to leave a man wantin', are ya, Mister Sanzo?" Hazel chided, his lilting voice cutting through the fog that had descended.

Sanzo knew he should be sated, but damn it if that soft drawl alone wasn't making him hard again. He opened his eyes and watched Hazel strip in front of him, slowly unbuttoning his cleric's collar, his eyes pinned to Sanzo's. Deft fingers slipped buttons through their holes, the parted material revealed creamy flesh.

"Mister Sanzo, don't tell me Ah wore ya out?" The bishop leaned in close, and Sanzo could smell the sex -- his sex -- on Hazel's breath. He grabbed the slender man's neck at the nape and captured his lips in a devouring kiss, the taste of his own come sending tendrils of desire unfurling in Sanzo's body. He felt Hazel twist and turn and then heard the soft 'whoosh' of his shirt being tossed away.

"Far from it," he rasped. He took Hazel's dainty wrist in his and then Sanzo rubbed the bishop's hand along his erection, a groan escaping him from the contact.

Hazel managed to slip his grasp and stood up, his arm outstretched. "Come on then, Mister Sanzo," he smiled down, and something in the softness of his expression stirred a memory within Sanzo -- an incident from his childhood -- of Koumyou offering a hand to him after he'd slipped on the courtyard flagstone. The stones had been drenched in a sun shower, and he'd been hurrying to keep up with Koumyou's much longer stride. Now, years later, Sanzo couldn't remember where they'd been heading to, but he recalled with perfect clarity his master's countenance shining down upon him, his head and shoulders eclipsing the sun, the rays creating a halo out of the blond hair that edged his face. Usually Sanzo's remembrances were guilt-tinged, but this one bore none of the accompanying blame. Instead, a warm euphoria flushed his body; a sensation that he hadn't felt in years. Sanzo snorted to himself. Perhaps he should seek out Goku sometime to alleviate his sexual frustration. His eyes widened when he caught the slip. Seek out Gojyo, not Goku. He had been charged with taking care of Goku, not violate him! He buried the imagery of hungry gold eyes falling upon his naked flesh, soft chestnut hair tickling over his ribs.

Sanzo took Hazel's hand and rose unsteadily to his feet. His robes slipped off his shoulders and Hazel tugged them off, letting them slip to the floor. He grabbed Sanzo's hand again.

"Touch me, Mister Sanzo," he begged plaintively, placing Sanzo's hand on the smooth skin of his chest.

"Slut," he growled, scraping his blunt fingernails over one taut, rosy nipple.

"Mercy," Hazel sobbed, "such a filthy word--" Sanzo's mouth closed in on Hazel's absorbing his commentary. He decided he rather liked shutting the bishop up this way.

"Bitch," he advanced and Hazel took a step backwards, leading them toward the bedroom. His arms wound about Sanzo's neck, drawing him close.

"Ah'll be whatever y'all want me ta be," he murmured coyly before he kissed Sanzo back. His tongue teased over Sanzo's lips before slipping through them to slide playfully over his tongue. Hazel's mouth was as hot and needy as before; Sanzo opened his wider, allowing the bishop more access before pulling away roughly. His cock twitched at the mewl that fell from Hazel's swollen lips.

"Whore. You mean nothing to me, I'm just using you," he snarled. Hazel's cheeks pinked at the epithet, his lashes fluttering over his eye-blue eyes.

"I don't care," Hazel managed breathily. "Take me, Master Sanzo," he implored. They'd managed to make it through the doorway to Hazel's bedroom and Sanzo's foot hooked around the door then slammed it shut.

"Cunt." He spun them around and smashed Hazel against the closed door, their teeth bumping together as they attacked each other hungrily. Sanzo didn't know what had come over him, but he was being consumed with need once again. He wanted to fuck the little bishop through the mattress. Hazel's hands splayed over Sanzo's still-clad chest and he pushed him away.

"Y'all don't have to worry about lubricant, I prepared mahself," he declared, his voice a sultry purr.

The admission caused a dizzying drop in Sanzo's blood pressure. He turned and leaned against the door for support, his eyes raking over Hazel's perfect body.

"I want to see you fuck yourself, stick your finger in your hole," he growled, leering into Hazel's face. Ordering the bishop around was far more appealing than it should have been. Hazel return the grin with one equally lecherous before he sauntered to the bed, Sanzo's eyes hungrily pinned to him.

Hazel settled among the many pillows piled on the huge mattress, reclining in a provocative position, his knees bent and spread apart, revealing the creamy expanse of his inner thighs. His flushed erection rose proudly from a bed of coarse blond curls. Hazel's hands fondled over his body, fingers pinching rosebud nipples into hardness before one hand palmed his length. The other teased over his entrance, a soft moan escaping his lips that was echoed by Sanzo. Hazel knew how to play up his body's fine porcelain features and Sanzo became mesmerized watching the bishop languidly pleasure himself. A finger slowly disappeared inside and Hazel arched his graceful neck exposing his throat. His moans became louder when he added a second finger and scissored them, opening himself up.

At the same time Hazel's other hand pumped his cock, his thumb smearing his precome over the velvety head. Sanzo swallowed hard and moved closer to the bed, the scent of Hazel's arousal assaulting his nose. When the bishop went to add a third digit, Sanzo could stand it no more.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Roll over, now."

Hazel grinned at him lasciviously and, even though he'd not yet come, he obediently followed Sanzo's direction. Sanzo quickly stripped, carelessly flinging his clothes to the floor before clambering up onto the bed behind Hazel. He grabbed the bishop's narrow hips, his fingernails digging into the smooth flesh stretched taut over Hazel's pelvis. Sanzo lined his dick up with Hazel's entrance and thrust in hard. The keening noise the bishop made caused sparks of electricity to flutter through his body; Sanzo felt on fire. He snapped his hips against the firm globes of Hazel's ass before pulling out to an accompanying groan. The sense of the power he had over the bishop surged through Sanzo and he began to move faster. He pounded Hazel's ass, holding it immobile in an iron grip. Sanzo watched Hazel collapse onto his forearms from the effort to keep some kind of footing. He didn't care if it was a struggle for Hazel; Sanzo pumped into his pliant body over and over, again and again.

He was dripping sweat and exhaustion was over-taking him, but goddamn it he'd never been so fucking hard in his life. And Hazel knew just how to play him.

"Tell me his name," he grunted.

"N-not until we're done, Mister Sanzo. Fair is fair." Hazel's breath was equally labored.

He would have been mad, should have been incensed, but at the moment Sanzo couldn't think beyond the incredible friction that engulfed his length. He'd wring the bastard's neck, one way or another, if Hazel was still just fucking with him. Right now, though, he was most definitely fucking Hazel and Sanzo had to admit it was nothing short of exquisite. He felt the slow build-up of his second climax thrumming through his nerves.

Hazel strained underneath him, and it dawned on Sanzo that he was desperately trying to get a hand on his erection. Sanzo folded onto his legs and pulled Hazel into his lap, embedding himself further inside that impossible heat.

"Mercy!" Hazel whispered hoarsely. In this new position the bishop could finally touch himself and he pumped his neglected erection furiously. Sanzo's hands tormented Hazel's tightened nipples, twisting the pebble-hard nubs ferociously as he continued to thrust up into his impossibly tight passage. He was so close to coming it was nearly unbearable. Hazel's back, slick with sweat slid against his chest. Suddenly the bishop cried out and the muscles surrounding Sanzo's cock clenched against it. No longer able to hold back, he came hard, his vision blacking out.

Almost instantly it became too much of an effort for Sanzo to remain upright, the tiredness he'd felt earlier descended upon him like a thick blanket; despite the adrenalin coursing through his veins, Sanzo felt utterly exhausted, lethargic.

"You bastard," he hissed as he lowered himself to the bed. The room was swimming around him; he screwed his eyes shut against the vertigo.

"Now, Mister Sanzo," Hazel lilted, "that's not very civil of you."

It must have been something in the tea, Sanzo realized. He mentally beat himself up for once again underestimating the slender bishop.

"I am a man of my word." The voice was close to his ear and Sanzo felt his arm being lifted, his body being shifted. Something encircled his wrist, but he was too tired to move.

"What ... did you ... do to me?" Sanzo fought the darkness that was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

Hazel giggled. "Ah believe Ah fucked ya senseless." The voice came from the other side now. Sanzo was having trouble keeping track of Hazel's whereabouts. His other hand was being pulled away from his body, and Sanzo found he was helpless to stop the action.

"You ... lied ..."

He felt Hazel's hot breath on his face, his lips pressed close. Sanzo turned his head away. "Ah'm right insulted by your lack of faith, Sanzo-han. A promise is a promise an' Ah told you Ah'm a man of mah word. In fact, Ah'm gonna do ya one better. He's on his way ta meet ya."

* * * *

As he slowly came around, Sanzo's eyelids felt like they had lead weights attached to them, his limbs as if lead coursed through his veins. He wanted to remain cocooned in the warm embrace of unconsciousness but something tugged at him ... a memory ...

"Hazel!" The name came out in a croak as Sanzo struggled to full wakefulness. He felt vulnerable and weak, paralyzed. His eyes refused to focus.

"So Sleeping Beauty has finally awakened."

Sanzo froze, the fogginess he'd been lost to cut through by the recognition of that oily inflection.

"You-"

"The monkey gets the banana." Ukoku's face loomed into Sanzo's field of vision. Instinctively he went for his gun only to find his body was still immobilized. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, to accompanying shooting pains and flashing white contrails behind his eyelids.

He blinked hard, forcing his eyes to focus on the peach blur, haloed by ebony. Gradually the other man's features sharpened, his sensuous lips, aquiline nose, deep indigo eyes obscured by thick lenses. Sanzo groaned inwardly as he felt a burst of adrenalin. He became acutely aware that he was naked. Naked, and fast becoming aroused.

"And I can tell you are happy to see me," the other man practically purred, not missing that fact. Though how could he, Sanzo wondered, when he was tied down -- his wrists bound together above his head and tethered to the headboard and legs spread out below -- and on display. Ukoku's hand ghosted over Sanzo's hardness and the monk hissed out a breath as his cock twitched approvingly. Sanzo twisted, vainly trying to escape the licentious caress. "So responsive, too." Ukoku remarked. He cupped Sanzo's balls. "You really should take advantage of your situation sometime, I'm sure that little redheaded half-breed would be more than obliging to be your whore, just as my little angel was. He's quite a roll in the hay, too, isn't he? Too bad you won't remember it. Or this." Ukoku's hand smoothed along the length of Sanzo's erection and the pulse pounded in Sanzo's ears. "But you gave him enough memories to last a lifetime."

"Coward," Sanzo hissed, tugging at the bindings that held him fast.

"Oh, you think you're tied up because I'm afraid of you?" Ukoku laughed. "That's just to protect your fragile ego. If I let you free, you'd have to face how weak you really are." He leaned closer to whisper into Sanzo's ear conspiratorially, his hand trailing teasingly up the sculpted planes of Sanzo's abdomen and chest. "You're nothing without them, you know."

Sanzo puzzled the 'them' Ukoku was referring to.

"They, however, seem to be doing just fine without you. Imagine that." Ukoku rolled one of Sanzo's nipples between thumb and forefinger. Sanzo shivered involuntarily and a soft groan escaped his lips.

"Such a wanton bitch you are," Ukoku chuckled. "You were hell-bent to meet me, and now all you can think about is sex."

Sanzo knew it was the drug, or whatever it was that Hazel had slipped him, but Ukoku was right, nonetheless. As much as he believed Ukoku's taunts were meant to mentally unsettle him, Sanzo's body's responses to the other man were overriding the troublesome thoughts that swirled around in his mind. But he didn't want to be turned on, either. Sanzo's teeth sunk into his lower lip.

"You know you want it. You want to be fucked." Fingers skimmed over his lips and Sanzo focused all his attention on not taking them into his mouth and sucking on them for all he was worth.

Sanzo shook his head vehemently, but it was too late. That kernel of a statement and the tender touch had his libido running rampant. He thought about those fingers sliding inside his body, and his skin tingled as he anticipated them being replaced by a thick, hard cock pounding him into oblivion. He craved the sensation of hands coursing over his body, touching him, pleasuring him. He imagined the sting as his ass was impaled. He saw Gojyo's leering face resting on his shoulder, heard the kappa's teasing, sultry voice. 'How do you like the feel of my dick rammed up your ass, cherry-chan? Who's the bitch now? But he couldn't answer because his mouth was engaged, his lips and tongue wrapped around Goku's pulsing cock. Goku's strong fingers held Sanzo's head immobile as he fucked the monk's mouth in rhythm to Gojyo's thrusts. Sanzo tasted the vaguely metallic flavor of Goku's precome and, as he sucked Goku's dick harder, Gojyo changed his position, tilting Sanzo's pelvis in just such a way that his cock brushed Sanzo's hotspot. Soft lips enveloped Sanzo's dick; Sanzo imagined Hakkai beneath him, sucking him off, and he thrust his hips wantonly -- into nothingness. He felt as if he were burning alive.

"Why don't you just give into it?" Ukoku's voice whispered in his ear. "You know you want to." A tongue traced the shell of Sanzo's ear. And he did, or, at least his body wanted to feel filled by hard cock. He wanted to be fucked and sucked and fondled and teased. Most of all he wanted to come.

"Stop it," Sanzo gritted. He tried to banish the images, the all-too-real sensations, but it was a losing battle, Ukoku's hands flitted over his skin; he knew exactly what to do to bring Sanzo to the edge.

He began to pant, blissfully aware that he was close to coming and, for some reason the humiliation that he was behaving like a bitch in heat fueled his arousal even more. If only he could reach completion, he thought, then he would be able to think straight again, be able to compete with the verbal sparring on a level playing field. He gave in, his body arching in pleasure, needy moans falling from dried lips as he desperately thrust his hips upward, craving more. More contact. More friction, more anything. Then suddenly Ukoku stopped, tearing a frustrated growl from Sanzo's throat. He felt a tight band being rolled down the length of his cock.

"Bastard," he hissed. Ukoku merely tut-tutted good-naturedly.

"We can't have you finishing ... prematurely. Where's the fun in that?" His hand traced over Sanzo's throbbing erection.

"Why did you do it?" Sanzo answered with his own question, breathy and imprecise. He let his head drop back to the bed, he didn't expect a straight answer.

"Well, now. I had to get your attention somehow, Kouryuu." Ukoku sat on the bed next to him.

"Don't call me that," Sanzo grit out.

"What better way to leave my calling card?" Ukoku continued, ignoring Sanzo's demand.

Sanzo thought back to that night when he'd cradled Goku's injured body in his lap. He'd felt nothing then, nothingness that was both palpable and unfathomable. He'd felt it too, years ago before when Koumyou had first introduced him to the monk, and Ukoku had come out into the courtyard, interrupting his sweeping. He hadn't liked the man then and Ukoku had known it.

"What do you think your master, Koumyou, would think of you now?"

"You have no right-"

"So weak, so helpless, so corrupt, so very, very dirty," Ukoku continued. "Do you think he'd consider his sacrifice a waste?"

"Stop it!"

"Although I'd hardly call it a sacrifice, it was more like a suicide," Ukoku mused.

"I said SHUT UP!" He was still hard, horny like he'd never felt before, and in no position to get himself off. That, combined with Ukoku's comments, was serving to fan his temper.

"What?" Ukoku's hand shot out lightening-fast, fingers reaching for Sanzo's chin. Ukoku forced Sanzo's head around, leveling a steady gaze at him. "Don't tell me ..." a humorless smile slowly formed at his lips. "No!" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "You really thought ..." Ukoku snickered, his fingers slipping away from Sanzo's chin.

"I believe I gave you more credit than you deserve." He patted Sanzo's cheek. "But ask yourself this, Genjo Sanzo. On that night long ago, when you witnessed your master's murder - Koumyou houshi sanzo, holder of both the maten and seitan scriptures - why do you suppose he didn't call upon their powers to annihilate those youkai intruders?"

"No," Sanzo gritted, but as much as he wanted to deny Ukoku's words, they were things he'd asked himself over and over again through the years. Why? Why hadn't Koumyou fought? Why did he leave him alone? "You know nothing about Koumyou."

Ukoku's hand tightened around Sanzo's throat. "Careful what you say next, dear Kouryuu. You know nothing about my relationship to Koumyou Sanzo."

"I know he'd have nothing to do with the likes of you," he spit, despite Ukoku's threat. The hand loosened and Ukoku's body shook silently. Sanzo watched, puzzled, until peals of laughter erupted from Ukoku's mouth. He laughed so hard that soon he'd removed his glasses and was wiping tears from his eyes. He turned toward Sanzo.

"You," he started, only to be overcome by a new round of guffaws. He threw up his arm, helplessly waving it.

"You," another giggle escaped. "Are just too cute."

Sanzo snorted. He much preferred the anger than the need that swam underneath the surface of his skin, that still scalded it whenever Ukoku brushed against him.

"Do you want to know what Koumyou was really like?" Ukoku leered. "How he would take me on my hands and knees? One time we did it in front of the Buddha. Let me tell you, that was fucking amazing. Or, better yet, amazing fucking." Ukoku chortled at his play on his own words.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care," Ukoku shrugged and Sanzo's eyes followed him as he reached for a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

"But it wasn't just that Koumyou was a great lay, which make no mistake, Kouryuu, he was. He wasn't just master of a couple of moldy sutras, either." Ukoku continued to reminisce, his hand tracing teasing, aimless shapes over Sanzo's chest. "We had profound conversations." Sanzo noted a wistful tone Ukoku's voice, one that echoed the emotion that he felt when he thought about Koumyou. And that was one thing that he could agree upon with Ukoku. Koumyou had been profound, as well as the singular source of love and stability throughout Sanzo's young life. Sadness for his own loss welled up inside Sanzo and it occurred to him that Ukoku's touches felt soothing, comforting. "He was the only one ..." Ukoku stopped speaking suddenly.

After a few seconds Sanzo prompted him. "He was the only one, what?" he asked, genuinely curious, genuinely starved for some little part of his master to hold onto.

"Oh ho! Suddenly we're all ears!" Whatever vulnerability Sanzo had imagined he'd discovered in Ukoku's façade had now vanished. "You want details? How about I just show you." Ukoku's breath was hot against his cheek.

His need was once again overwhelming all reason and Sanzo turned his head towards Ukoku. At the same time, Ukoku pulled away, only to bring the butt end of his cigarette against Sanzo's lips.

"You look like you could use a smoke," he explained with a wink. Sanzo took a shaky drag, acutely aware of Ukoku's long, thin fingers that were pressed against his lips. He held the smoke, the familiar calm seeping over his body as the seconds passed by and the nicotine entered into his bloodstream.

"You sure know how to suck," Ukoku remarked. His hand unwavering, he stretched out on the bed and continued to share the cigarette between the two of them in silence. When it was finished, he reached over Sanzo's prone form and stubbed it in an ashtray perched on a bedside table.

"So, now what?" Sanzo asked flatly, trying his best to ignore the way Ukoku smelled. He smelled vaguely of sandalwood, a scent that Koumyou had favored. Closing his eyes, Sanzo could imagine that it was Koumyou in the room with him. He was transported back to Kinzan; he felt small and vulnerable, yet protected.

"Hmm. I think that would be up to you, as you were the one who wanted me so badly." Ukoku rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand. "I could leave you like this -- my little angel would be happy to be of service to you -- again." His other hand traced over the gentle hollow created by Sanzo's breastbone. "Or I could help you out." He flicked one of Sanzo's pebble-hard nipples playfully with his index finger.

"You've had your fun, why don't you just let me go. Now." Sanzo hissed.

"I don't believe I mentioned that as one of the choices. You really need to pay better attention, Kouryuu. I think I've got some added incentive somewhere around here." Ukoku reached over to the near table, his hand returning with a thin chain to which each end had a small alligator clamp. "Rather diminutive, no?" He smiled, affixing one clamp to Sanzo's right nipple. "Deceptively powerful, though." Sanzo hissed as the tender flesh was caught in a powerful vise. "Kind of like Son Goku." An image flashed in Sanzo's mind of Goku, his tongue extended, lapping merrily at the trapped flesh, golden eyes peering up hungrily from under rough-cut bangs. He groaned at the ghostly image. "I had a feeling you might like that," Ukoku drawled, "a little bunny told me." He added the second clamp, then he tested the chain, pulling it away from Sanzo's body. His reaction was instantaneous -- his back arched off the mattress as the clamps pulled the sensitive flesh away from his body.

He wouldn't beg. It dawned on him that the torment would continue until he did, and despite the treacherous behavior of his body, Sanzo was determined not to give Ukoku what he wanted. He bit down hard on his lower lip, hard enough to taste the coppery tang of his own blood.

"I wonder how long it would have been before Koumyou would have welcomed you into his bed?" Ukoku remarked, letting the chain drop. The pressure remained, however, and Sanzo found his need was not alleviated in the least. In fact, it was more pronounced if that could be possible.

"You really are a sick fuck." Sanzo grated. "Is this what it takes for you to get off?"

Ukoku laughed. "Oh, watching you screwing the Bishop was quite entertaining. He's got quite a mouth too; it seemed to get you off just fine. Would you like that again?" Ukou sat up, turning his back to Sanzo.

Sanzo remained silent, even though his body was practically begging for it.

Ukoku sighed dramatically. Turning his gaze to Sanzo's face he said, "Try as you might, you won't win this game."

Sanzo closed his eyes, essentially shutting the other man out. He was wound tighter than a hair trigger, hyper aware of Ukoku and the minute shifts in the mattress his movements made. He tried to figure out what Ukoku was doing, now that he'd stopped torturing him. His cock throbbed, it was still rock-hard, and he was still aware of the pressure from the alligator clamps affixed to his nipples. Fuck, he groaned inwardly. Something gnawed at him. Ukoku had said that he'd fucked Hazel, had intimated that the bishop had sucked his dick, but Sanzo had no recollection of it. A chill ran up his spine, tendrils of ... fear prickling his skin. Ukoku had said something about him forgetting, but as Sanzo tried to wrap his arms around the conversation, he found the edges were already fading from memory.

"What did you give me?" he demanded.

The end of the bed dipped and he felt Ukoku between his outstretched legs. Instinctively he tried to close them, but they were still being held apart.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sanzo felt a cold pressure at his entrance and panic filled him. He fought violently, vainly against the penetration, but the object was too slick, it slipped past the tight ring of muscles with minimal trouble, filling him. It felt fantastic, it was what his body had been craving. At the same time he cursed loudly.

"Fuck!"

"What was that?" Ukoku cupped a hand to his ear. Sanzo glared daggers at him, despite his breath coming in shallow gulps. When Ukoku tugged on the apparatus, pulling it partially out before sliding it in again to the hilt, a fine sweat blossomed on Sanzo's body. It felt good, his body shuddered in pleasure and he felt his climax building, knowing full well he'd get no relief until that damned cock ring was removed.

"Koumyou used to do me like this sometimes," Ukoku remarked nonchalantly. "He was into dominance and control," he added.

"Liar." Sanzo blurted. The sweat was rolling off his body now, and the blood was pounding in his veins. His heart beat a staccato pattern within his rib cage.

"Yes, of course. I've made all of it up," Ukoku agreed, his voice a lilting singsong. "It was all a figment of my imagination. That's what you'd like to believe, no? That your perfect master wouldn't sully himself with the likes of me." He threw Sanzo's words back at him. As he spoke, Ukoku continued his ministrations, each thrust now causing Sanzo's back to arch off the mattress. He pulled futilely at the bindings at his wrists and tried to free his ankles from what he'd come to realize was a spreader bar in between them, to no avail. He didn't know how much longer he could take all the things Ukoku was doing to him. He writhed in pleasure and frustration as his cock throbbed, its hue an angry purple. "And I never visited him, never sat out on his narrow porch drinking sake and smoking and philosophizing." Ukoku added for good measure. "Most of all, we never talked about you. He never told me how proud he was of you, he never shared with me anecdotes of all the clever little things you did, or the endearing ones. Like how you would crawl into his bed in the morning when you thought he was still asleep and stroke his forehead."

Sanzo swallowed hard. It was a memory that he'd forgotten, and it wasn't right that Ukoku should know it! Koumyou had never even let him in on this secret, and yet Ukoku knew! Once again that terrible longing pulled at Sanzo's heart. He still missed his master, and the ache grew as sharp and as painful as it had been the day that he left Kinzan for good. The search for Koumyou's sutra, which had occupied the better part of his life, had been Sanzo's only redemption, his only distraction, from the loss.

"Ok." His voice came out in a ragged whisper. "I believe you. You were his lover." The thrusting stopped and with it, the amazing friction. Sanzo wiggled his ass desperately trying to get that feeling back.

"I suppose I'll be able to sleep again, now that the mighty Genjo Sanzo, the Thirty-first of China, has deemed me honest." Ukoku pulled the sex toy out of him. "You know I was once jealous of you. How pathetic."

"Please." Sanzo wasn't even sure he said it out loud. He licked his lips, tasting the drying blood from the cut he'd opened up. His chest heaved as he tried to get enough oxygen into his lungs to stop the feeling of lightheadedness that plagued him. Sanzo looked down the expanse of his nakedness, drawing his gaze up to Ukoku's face. His eyes met unfathomable indigo, but he kept the stare unflinchingly, pleading silently with the other man. Ukoku slipped his black robe off his shoulders. He stood off the bed and it fell to the floor. He stepped out of it and then broke the gaze to pull his thin, black silk tank over his head. The arm warmers were next. Sanzo's gaze fell to Ukoku's wiry frame, feasted on the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen and then swallowed.

He wanted Ukoku, he couldn't deny that any longer. Despite learning what he had, and now the speculation niggled at him that somehow this man was responsible for Koumyou's death -- and no, it couldn't have been a suicide -- Sanzo wanted to feel the press of their hips together, wanted to feel Ukoku's weight bearing down on him, wanted to feel Ukoku's cock sliding in and out of his body. His teeth worried his lip as he watched Ukoku's hand reach his waistband and loosen his pants. They slid off his narrow hips and Sanzo let out a soft moan of encouragement, and the leer that met his face was not hopeful, it was downright sadistic. But as Ukoku crawled back onto the bed, the anticipation within Sanzo reached a fever pitch. Ukoku grabbed the bar that separated Sanzo's legs and twisted, the action effortlessly flipping him onto his belly as if he weighed nothing.

"Tell me what you want."

Shifting within his bindings Sanzo managed to get his knees under him. He felt a hand palm over the curvature of his ass. "Just stop fucking with me," he ground out. "And fuck me." It was as much of an admission as Sanzo would ever give Ukoku about the state in which Ukoku had driven him, not that it wasn't obvious to either of them.

"Ever the demanding prick, even when you no longer have a leg to stand on," Ukoku observed. His hands slid along Sanzo's sides and then curled over his hipbones, steadying Sanzo in position. Sanzo felt something hard and blunt brush against his well-prepared entrance and, before he knew it, Ukoku was sheathed inside him in one smooth push. Sanzo's whole body trembled as the other man began to move, thrusting in and out, sending tendrils of pleasure unfurling through him. He groaned, then bit the linens beneath his mouth to stifle the sounds; he didn't want Ukoku to think that he was enjoying any part of it, even though Sanzo could not deny that his body was. Ukoku grunted and panted above him and then Sanzo felt him lower his torso to Sanzo's back. Hot breath stirred the sweat-damp hair that fringed his face.

"My, but you've such a tight ass," Ukoku marveled, a chuckle punctuating his commentary. His hips snapped against Sanzo's ass and their balls slapped together, the sensation ripping harsh cries from the both of them. Ukoku's hand slipped around the curve of Sanzo's hip and palmed the length of his dick. He cried out hoarsely, tears of utter frustration pricking his eyelashes.

He began to thrust his hips, fucking Ukoku's hand, even though he knew it wouldn't give him the relief he desperately sought.

"GODDAMN you!" he hissed.

"Now, now, now, that's no way to get what you want, Kouryuu." Ukoku lifted himself off Sanzo's back, and his other hand slid over Sanzo's chest. Finding the chain that swung between his nipples, Ukoku tugged. Sanzo whimpered as the sensitive nubs were pulled on; twin jolts of electricity fluttered outward from the peaked flesh. He pumped harder, growing more frustrated. "Oh, that feels good, Genjo houshi Sanzo. You'd make me such a good little whore, you know -- if you're ever looking for another line of work -- that is, when this one doesn't pan out."

"Fuck you," he spat.

"Maybe next time."

"There's not going to be a next time."

"Oh, you cut me to the quick! " Ukoku mocked, his voice taking on an exaggerated hurt. He let go of Sanzo's dick and pulled out almost all the way. Sanzo's hips followed, only to be held immobilized by Ukoku's iron grip. The tip of his dick pressed in and he gyrated his hips in tiny circles, refusing to thrust in any further.

"Please," he moaned breathily. Inwardly Sanzo berated himself for being reduced to begging, but he could no longer take the build up of pressure in his loins. The sweat was pouring off his body, and he'd been strung out so long on the edge of release that he was beginning to feel sick.

"Please, what?" Somehow Sanzo had had an inkling that that admission wouldn't be nearly good enough.

"Please let me come," he mumbled. When there was no response, he flinched. He worried his lip as he waited for Ukoku's next pronouncement.

"When you put it that way, how could I refuse?" came the oily retort. The hand that had been working Sanzo's cock stopped, and he felt the tight rubber ring being rolled toward the tip of his dick.

As the rubber rolled off his flesh and shot into the ether, Ukoku gave one last tug on the chain, hard enough to yank the clamps from his nipples. Sanzo came hard, his spend striping the mattress beneath him before he momentarily blacked out. When Sanzo came around his dick was still throbbing and blissful waves of pleasure were breaking over his trembling body, his muscles were spasming against Ukoku's intrusion. Ukoku was now pounding into him at a frenetic pace, each drive serving to prod the spongy tissue of his prostate. Despite the incredible orgasm he'd just had, Sanzo felt renewed stirrings of arousal. Ukoku's grunts came in raw gasps. His thrusts became erratic and then suddenly Sanzo felt the heat of the other man's release deep inside his passage. Ukoku continued to thrust a few more times after his climax before pulling out of Sanzo altogether. He rolled off of Sanzo and fished for his cigarettes.

As Ukoku lit up, Sanzo clumsily rolled onto his back, his body coming to a rest against Ukoku's reclined form. Once again the older man shared his smoke in companionable silence until they'd reached the filter. The nicotine was a balm to Sanzo's frayed nerves, it soothed over the rawness, brought his emotions back to center with stunning clarity. But, for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty, or worse, embarrassed by what had just transpired. That realization puzzled him, but not enough to cut through the euphoria that still held him in its thrall.

After tamping out the cigarette, Ukoku stood up in a graceful gesture and then turned toward Sanzo, his hands loose at his hips.

"I hate to just fuck and run, but I've minions to instruct and a Prince to torment. Before I leave, though, a piece of advice," Ukoku drawled as he bent at the waist and picked up his top. He shook it out then slipped it over his head. "Go home -- go back to Chang'an, little boy. Don't mess in the affairs of your elders." He stepped into his pants and pulled them up, then collected his arm-warmers.

"I have no choice in the matter." Sanzo sighed, thinking about the mission he'd been charged to accomplish. One, he reminded himself, that had taken a detour courtesy of a few well-placed bullets.

"Is that what you think? Are you that much of a slave to your vocation? Or do you enjoy being the errand-boy of the Gods? Koumyou would be so disappointed. He had great hopes for you, you know." Ukoku walked to the foot of the bed and loosened the cuffs at Sanzo's ankles. He thought to kick Ukoku, but his limbs felt rubbery and unresponsive.

"If that's why you needed to get my attention, you can spare me the lecture," he gritted.

"We're all masters of our own destiny, Kouryuu." Ukoku continued, ignoring Sanzo's admonition. He laid a Judas kiss upon his cheek. "Until we meet again," he murmured, his fingertips gliding over the arch of Sanzo's brow.

"The next time I see you, I will kill you."

"I didn't know you could predict the future," Ukoku remarked, unimpressed by the threat. He reached for something on the bedside table. He turned back and Sanzo saw that Ukoku was holding a hypodermic needle in one hand, an alcohol prep pad in the other. He tried to scoot away, only to be hung up by the ties that still bound his hands to the headboard.

Sanzo felt a pinprick in his arm and then an icy-heat flowed into his vein.

"Would you like to know what I see in the future?" Ukoku smiled down at Sanzo's closing eyes. "Nothing ..."

~FIN~