|Title: IT'S A SANZO THING. |
Pairing(s): Sanzo x Hakkai, Sanzo x Goku, and Sanzo x Gojyo.
Summary: Each one needs him and sees what they do in a different light. To Sanzo itís just another part of the burdens he has to carry.
Warning: POVís. M/M sex, oral, anal, hand job, masturbation.
Notes: Donít blame me I just let the plot bunny play in the cardboard box.
Disclaimer: I donít own them, but will return them once I have given them a cool wash and left them out to dry over night.
IT'S A SANZO THING.
Out of our tight-knit travelling band, Sanzo is the hardest to understand if you only look at the surface ripples of his personality. I am used to seeing past the most obvious and see the more subtle ebbs of reality curling about him. On first glance most people see just the robes then are blinded by their own need for salvation. They pester a not-often seen treasure walking their streets. Get too close, and they will get their first taste of the icy minefield of anger waiting to explode in their faces. There is no mild manner about him, as our touchy leader dishes out snide remarks that have many looking twice and covering their childrenís ears. No Sanzo priest should be so human.
This is why he can understand how, even after so long, I need to have redemption ripped out of my body. To feel the weight of my sin in his pale body laying over mine, his pulsing cock thrusting in and out of my own sweating body as my fingers curl about the pillow I bite to keep the silence he preaches to me in. I canít say I love him, Kanan still holds me too tight, but I also donít hate him for coming up with this arrangement.
But then he never stays after he is completely drained into my always-aching body. For a while my soul feels washed of its sin. Later he and I will sit talking quiet things, and how the other two make his life difficult, and that a few shots would cure much of his woe. He is still too sane in a mad world to follow through with the old threat of killing us all, so somehow we all manage to work it out in the end.
Heís my sun, the voice in the dark and when the dreams haunt me too much. It is his touch I seek out the most on my body as a distraction. In his own way he shows me the words hidden behind the hurt violet eyes. I have golden puppy dog eyes; they get me most things when I use them. Sanzo has wounded kitten eyes and it has broken my heart each of the few times I have seen them.
Some would say itís wrong that we touch each other so intimately, but the unspoken boundary is never crossed. For now I am content to let him sooth my shaking body, to chase the shadows away with soft kisses on my chest, his tongue laving me with affection, while his hand pumps my cock, matching the strokes I am giving him in return. He is so silent, just the barest gasp or cherished moan escapes him, unlike my own loud howls of delight that bring concerned knocks at the door.
Sanzo and I are like oil and water, so when I manage to get him to kneel in front of me and willingly take out my cock for a round of head, Iíll never forget - until the next time life throws me a bone. He has oral skills you earn only one way, and that knowledge we both keep guarded, him with cold hard steel and me with the next lady that warms me for a little while. Sanzo is not one you can predict well, but then I always have been a fly by the seat of my pants kind of guy, and finding out the prissy monk liked to give out was a kinky wet dream come true.
He takes me in alleyways, up against trees, even across the front of the jeep sometimes when the blond terror is feeling mighty needy. And then Iím the one who gets to pour his jizz down that slender throat. But Iím not to touch or speak, just be there as his dirty mouth whispers to me - when itís not wrapped about my hard member.