It was ten years ago, when he was thirteen and still Koryuu, that Sanzo first clapped eyes on a grown man's erection. It was this short, skinny guy -- had large hands, though; Sanzo can still remember their touch... on his head, on the back of his head, on the back of his neck, pulling him down, and Sanzo can remember almost snorting out loud at the gentle, careful way the fucker was pulling his face down to his bulgy cock, as if assuring him there was nothing to worry about, his cock would not bite.

Idiot. Of course not; penises don't have teeth. Koryuu did, though -- Koryuu could bite.

And he did.

...

Up until that point, Sanzo had never heard a monk shriek like a pig being butchered. He thought it the funniest shit ever.

"Na-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Sanzo glares sidelong in the direction of the stupid-sounding laugh, at the table next to the one next to his.

Wait a minute.

...why was he even recalling that again?

...

He'll have to backtrack.

... Because he was reminded of that monk saying to him that he was 'lovelier than the first burst of spring sunshine'

-- and he was reminded of that monk only because he was thinking about how he'd lived most of his life with no one but men around him, bald boring men who made sure to keep women out of the temples

-- and he was thinking about that only because he remembered Gojyo heckling him once if it'd ever crossed his mind to share his dick with a woman

-- and he was reminded of Gojyo's heckling in the first place only because he was distracted by Gojyo there, flirting with those two women who'd been glancing at him while talking.

"Na-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

There the horny fuck goes again.

Anyway, Sanzo's finished his beer already.

He sets his empty mug down on the rickety table and then pushes himself up from his chair. A waitress dashes to pick up the plates from the late lunch he had with his three traveling companions.

He climbs the dim stairwell to the third and uppermost floor of the inn and then wends his way straight to the room he'll be sharing with Hakkai for the night. Hakkai won't be there until an hour or two because he and Goku just went out for groceries to last them until their next stop.

Upon entering the small room, he turns and shuts the grating door. He slides off the sutra across his shoulders and removes the thin gold metal plate hanging down the front of his robe, then walks over to the side of his bed to place them on the seat of the chair close by. He takes out his long white paper fan from underneath the loose sleeves of his cream-colored robe and then places it on the empty bedside table. He draws his sleeves down to his waist, baring the tight black leather hugging his torso and covering his arms up to a little under his armpits.

With the wooden floorboards squeaking under his slippered feet, he goes over to the small round table by the wall away from his bed, then starts unfolding the newspaper lying on the table with Hakkai's things. He holds up the front page a foot away from his eyes because he doesn't have his glasses on and doesn't feel like stepping away from the table to get them from his things by the foot of his bed. Then he realizes that he actually is just guessing the words for the most part and so finds the exercise rather stupid.

He is about to refold the paper and toss it back to the table but stops when he hears the door behind him grating open. If it was Hakkai he wouldn't stop, but it isn't Hakkai because Hakkai is still out and he's pretty certain Hakkai has no reason not to knock on the door first, anyway. So he doesn't stir by the table and keeps his non-reading eyes peeled on yesterday's headlines.

"Rude to the ladies as usual," Gojyo says to him and then gently kicks the door shut.

"And you're at it earlier than usual," Sanzo says to him without bothering to turn.

"Heh now...jealous?"

"Very," Sanzo says in mostly sarcasm. A moment later he gets a whiff of the lingering stink of women's perfume and feels the scathing heat of Gojyo's hands closing around his wrists.

+

Sanzo drops the little towel he used to wipe his chest with to the floor. He lies crammed with Gojyo on his much-too-narrow bed, shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, and leg to leg. He has more than half a mind to shove Gojyo off and away but he's a little weary and just a little comfortable right now to bother, and he has to admit somehow that he isn't really disgusted with the hot sweaty sensation of Gojyo's naked body next to his own naked body that much. Besides that he's too busy snarling, to begin with:

"You don't even realize it, do you."

"Realize what?" Gojyo grunts.

"That you moan out his name."

"I moan --? I don't moan out his name."

"You always do, you idiot."

"That's bullshit."

"Haaaak... kaaaaiii... Haaaahhhk..."

"You fucker, I don't groan it out like that!"

"I couldn't care less who you think of when you stick your dick up my ass; just don't fucking call their name in my ear. It makes me sick."

"Just 'cos you don't call out the monkey's name --"

"I don't think of that stupid monkey."

"Like I give a fuck."

Even before he finishes seething Gojyo shoves himself off the limp mattress, then bends down and thrusts his hand into the pocket of his pants on the floor for most probably his cigarettes and lighter. ...Sanzo scowls but finds it a good idea in any case.

So he rolls over to the partly soiled side Gojyo just left empty and then reaches for his own pack of cigarettes on the bedside table. Now facing the broad rectangular window just above the side of the headboard, he gets an incidental view of the clear afternoon sky. Then his keen eyes hit upon something, there amongst the dark leaves of the tree just outside the window.

It's a white paper airplane, stuck between the branches.

He frowns.

It isn't really white now that he takes a better look at it. It's a faded shade of pink. Probably even orange, but that'd be too much of a fucking coincidence. What's it doing there, anyway. Must've passed through this very window; no one's ever bothered to retrieve it.

Sanzo frowns harder at the paper airplane, irritated for some reason.

He gets on his hands and knees on the bed and then slithers his way forward to the window.

"What in heck're you doing?" Gojyo says to him, surprise giving a little sort of creak to his voice.

Sanzo doesn't reply and merely lifts his right knee onto the wide dusty window sill. He takes a glance below. The ground is three floors down. Then he eyes the paper airplane. He begins to reach his hand out. Probably a meter away. Easy enough distance.

"What shit is this --"

"Shut up."

"Idiot, are you tryin' to get that crappy toy?"

"Shut up."

"... You really serious??"

"Leave me alone."

"Hey."

"Stay back."

"Wait, Sanzo.

"Stay the fuck away."

"Just lemme -- I got somethin' to say to you."

"Shut up."

"No, I mean, if you're bent on falling to your --"

"I'm not going to fall, idiot."

So now Sanzo has both knees on the window sill. He gets a steady grip of the cloudy glass window pane to his left, then leans tipping his balance forward and reaches his right hand out further. He stretches out his fingers, ready to grab for the paper airplane.

But that's as far as he goes because Gojyo grabs for him all of a sudden, making his heart leap straight out of his mouth, making him think for sure he was going to fall from the window that very moment until Gojyo's arms squeeze tighter around his waist and fling him back to the limp mattress.

Overcome by ire -- and chagrin, as well, over having panicked for a moment -- Sanzo clenches his hands hard enough to break his own knuckles. His right fist flies to strike the stupid fucker there kneeling over him, but catching sight of his paper fan on the bedside table he reaches out to seize it and beats the shit out of Gojyo with it instead: beats him on the head, on the shoulders, on the arms Gojyo's using to shield his face.

Sanzo lies panting a couple minutes later, still clutching his fan and scowling up at Gojyo who hasn't moved an inch away. Gojyo himself scowls down at Sanzo, red, red hair and red, red eyes and now red, red skin from the countless blows of Sanzo's fan...

and red, red cock, too, swollen and hard and big before Sanzo.

Then Sanzo finds his legs placed over the breadth of Gojyo's lean shoulders, the back of his feet rolling against Gojyo's back. Gojyo buries the red swollen hardness between his legs deep between Sanzo's own legs, way deep inside him like Gojyo did just a few minutes back, screws him like he always does, only this time Gojyo drags his head up to press their mouths together and moves his tongue against his own tongue like Gojyo probably would with someone he actually loves, the emotional fucker.

Then Sanzo closes his eyes and kisses back.

...

When it's all over and Sanzo is sweaty and sticky wet in the chest and in the ass again, Gojyo draws Sanzo's legs down from his shoulders and then finally moves away from him.

Sanzo brushes away the strands of his blond hair pressed to his eyes and half-listens to his choppy breathing and swallows the sharp taste of Gojyo's rum and cigarettes still in his mouth.

What the hell was just that.

"'Kay, go break your neck if you want," Gojyo says to him. "'Least now I won't have any regrets." He stands by the bedside table, leaning his weight on his left foot, and then lights a slightly bent cigarette.

Sanzo calls him, "Idiot." Who the hell said anything about breaking his neck there.

He reaches for the towel he dropped to the floor earlier and then wipes himself clean once again. He sits up bringing his bare feet down to the floor, then pulls his thin pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his black jeans on the bedside table. He takes one of the two remaining sticks, and with the cigarette in his mouth he slips a hand up behind Gojyo's hip and then pulls him down to touch the end of his cigarette to the burning end of the cigarette in Gojyo's mouth. After this Gojyo plunks himself down on the floor sideways between Sanzo's legs, his elbow scraping Sanzo's bare thigh.

Sanzo fixes his eyes to the same tree out the same window. He snatches his shiny pistol from among his clothes on the bedside table and then fires a single bullet that shatters the left wing of the paper airplane plus a few of the leaves in the way. The thing crashes to the lower branches. "Hn." Anyway, if it fell and touched the earth, it'd have meant something corny.

"One minute you're ready to die for that crap, the next you're shootin' it down." Gojyo simpers and then looks unblinking at the floor. "It's not funny."

Sanzo holds the cigarette in his sucking mouth and then turns to Gojyo. After a perfectly silent few seconds, "I know something funny," he says to him.

"Really." Gojyo puffs on his cigarette, and Sanzo feels the blow of the smoke warm the side of his knee. "Let's hear it."

So he plucks his cigarette off his lips. "When I was thirteen," Sanzo begins, but that's only as far as he goes because he breaks out in coarse laughter all of a sudden thinking of the funniest shit that he's about to tell his lover.

END