Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1381900.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Saiyuki
  Relationship:
      Genjo_Sanzo/Son_Goku, Koumyou_Sanzo/Kouryuu
  Character:
      Genjo_Sanzo, Son_Goku_(Saiyuki), Koumyou_Sanzo
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Underage_Drinking, Underage_Drug_Use, Character_Death,
      Gossip, Inappropriate_Erections, Mental_Instability
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-04-06 Words: 5246
****** A Clean Slate ******
by chibi_zoe
Summary
     Live has never been easy for Sanzo, he's been at the centre of a
     gossip storm for most of his life. Everyone has an opinion on his
     life, but no one ever asked him what he wanted.

//Is that Sanzo’s ward, the little blond kid?
//Yes that’s him, isn’t he just the cutest thing?
//He’s so much younger than I thought he’d be it’s a wonder that Sanzo’s
attentions don’t hurt him.
//Look at his eyes, the kid’s breathed in so much poppy smoke that I doubt he’d
react even if you sliced him open.

Whispers have always followed Kouryuu, lingered around him in the same way that
the sweet narcotic smoke constantly wreathed his master and guardian Koumyo
Sanzo. He breathed deeply, welcoming the floaty sensation that spread
throughout his languid limbs as he cast all of the day's unkind words from his
mind.
“Kouryuu?” He stirred briefly at the sound of his name and opened heavy-lidded
eyes to look up at his father-figure. The light of the moon highlighted
Koumyo’s long blond hair and glinted from the moisture on his lips.
“Are you thirsty Kouryuu?” Koumyo was holding a shallow white saucer up to his
lips and Kouryuu obediently sipped the clear liquid that was offered, relishing
the heat that flowed through his body with every swallow.
“Good boy.” Koumyo’s delicate hands carded softly through Kouryuu’s thick blond
hair and he sighed softly at the pleasant sensation, languidly pushing his head
up into the familiar touch. He knew what was coming, but like always, he felt
too warm, too relaxed, and too loved to resist. He breathed deeply again, his
eyelids fluttering tiredly against his cheeks as Koumyo brushed a gentle thumb
across his lips.
** ** **

//Did you hear about Koumyo Sanzo?
//No, what happened?
//He OD’d last week.
//Getting himself closer to God?
//Yeah, shot himself so full of diacetylmorphine that he passed out and choked
on his own vomit, left that little boy of his sprawled naked on his bed and so
out of it that he couldn’t even speak, poor thing.

Kouryuu had been around religion his whole life. As the ward of the man closest
to God, Koumyo Sanzo, he had had faith literally forced down his throat since
he was old enough to crawl. He could recite all of the holy books word perfect,
he knew all of the ritual prayers and chants, and the proper regalia that
needed to be worn for each and every auspicious occasion. What he hadn’t
realised was that the being the man closest to God was not quite all that it
was cracked up to be.
When Koumyo had died, Kouryuu had awoken to find that the third eye had
appeared on his forehead, and that his mind was now no longer his own. Prayers
from the faithful, and the not so faithful, cluttered up his consciousness.
Pleas for forgiveness, for rescue, for vengeance battered at him constantly,
vying with grief and drug withdrawal to be the first to drive him insane.

\\Oh Merciful Goddess, if you just help me drop a dress size before the
weekend, so that I look thinner than my sister, I’ll never take your name in
vain again.
\\Oh Merciful Goddess, Mai is so beautiful; I swear that I’ll attend church
every Sunday if you’ll just make her love me.

Kouryuu shuddered as his body expelled yet more waste onto his already fouled
bedding. He felt like he was dying, and he welcomed the sensation. If he died,
then he would be reunited with Koumyu, and the prayers would be gone from his
head.

‘Come now little Konzen, surely it’s not that bad. All you need to do is pray
to me and I’ll help you.’

Kouryuu shuddered as the voice filed his mind, forcing out all of the petty
pleas and desperate prayers that lurked there. The Voice of God was nothing
like he had expected. It hovered between what he perceived a man’s voice and a
woman’s voice to be, and had a distinctly playful overtone that he hadn’t
expected. His mind stuttered against its vastness as he fumbled for an
appropriate prayer.

‘Help me, please, and I’ll serve you faithfully for the rest of my life.’ As
prayers went, it lacked the polish of ritual chants, and the flowery language,
but it was heartfelt, as much as Kouryuu’s battered heart could feel anything.

‘Silly boy, dear Koumyo already gave you to me in exchange for curing his
addiction.’
‘Curing? You call that curing? He’s dead!’
‘Be careful what you wish for dearest nephew, you might just get it. Dear
Koumyo no longer suffers.’
Kouryuu’s small body abruptly cramped up and he curled into a foetal position
trying to escape the agonising pain, biting his lip until it was bloody in a
vain attempt not to scream.

‘What do you want from me?’
‘I want you to be the sun.’
‘The sun? What does that mean, be the sun?’
But the voice was gone and Kouryuu’s mind was suddenly mostly his own again,
his thoughts completely clear for the first time in longer than he cared to
remember. He wasn't sure that he liked it.
Trembling as he pushed himself into a sitting position, he grimaced at the
stinking filth he was sitting in. His cramps and his cravings had mysteriously
vanished, completely and utterly, as if they'd never existed. He sent a
reflexive prayer to the Merciful Goddess in thanks – not meaning a single word
of it. .

‘Be the sun, Genjo Sanzo, be the sun.’

** ** **

//Is that him, that blond one in the white robe and veil?
//Yes, that’s him. Genjo Sanzo, the man closest to God.
//He looks a little young for such an important position.
//Don’t let his youth fool you. Koumyo Sanzo, may the Goddess have mercy on his
soul, was training him for this until the day he died.
//You don’t mean...
//Yes, I most certainly do, that boy is Koumyo’s little toy, all grown up.

Sanzo moved slowly through the crowd, guided by the ever-present Archbishop,
with his gold crowned head held high. He did absolutely nothing to avoid the
grabbing hands that reached out for him; each one certain that the merest touch
of his no longer pristine white robes would cure them of their never ending
misery. Prayers and pleas alike scrabbled at the edges of his mind, demanding
recognition and expecting fulfilment, but he ignored them all with the ease of
long practice.

\\AWESOME! IT SHINES LIKE THE SUN!

Sanzo tripped inelegantly over his feet as the childish voice invaded his mind,
drowning out even his own thoughts with its sheer unadulterated volume. Not
even the hated God Voice was this overwhelming. His diaphanous veil caressed
the nape of his neck as one of the monks accompanying him caught his arm
roughly and prevented him from tumbling ignobly onto the dirty footpath.

\\WHOA! IT'S LIKE HE HEARD ME! CAN YOU HEAR ME MR PRIEST?!

Sanzo bit his tongue viciously in his attempt to stay conscious as the massive
voice filled his awareness once again. His head nodded affirmatively without
his permission and the voice in his head whooped so loudly that Sanzo was
honestly surprised that his skull didn't split open from the sheer pressure.
Just as he was sure that his mind was going to melt before his head exploded,
the all-encompassing voice was gone just as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving
behind nothing but a vicious pounding headache.
He drew himself up to his full height and threw off the sweaty hand that was
still wrapped around his forearm tightly enough to bruise. His vision was
blurry from the agonising pain in his head and every shout from the crowd
surrounding him made him wish that he was not too proud to pass out. Gritting
his teeth against the nausea roiling through his stomach, Sanzo forced himself
to step forwards and continue down his pre-determined path, hoping against hope
that he would never experience anything like that voice ever again.
** ** **

//Have you seen Genjo Sanzo recently?
//Not since the parade, why do you ask?
//He's been stumbling a lot recently and slurring his words.
//Well, he was trained by Koumyo Sanzo, so it wouldn't surprise me if he drinks
heavily. Or worse. At least he isn't dragging an underage catamite around
everywhere he goes.
//There is that. You know, I always wondered why the Sanzo's can do all of
these immoral things and still be so close to God.

As days turned into weeks, the Voice came and went from Sanzo's mind
intermittently with no rhyme or reason, more often than not leaving him in
complete agony and desperate for oblivion. With ever increasing frequency he
directed profane prayers towards the Merciful Goddess for denying him a simple
means of escape. When she had cured his childhood addiction, she had ensured
that he would never again find comfort in the arms of any opiates, or at the
bottom of a bottle. All he ever received in reply though was a tinkling little
laugh and a repeated injunction to 'be the sun'.
Normally the Voice came as a brief stream of consciousness, short and sharp,
but occasionally it echoed clearly voiced observations on current events and
from analysing both of these, Sanzo had determined that the person continually
invading his thoughts was an uneducated teenaged boy, one who was living
roughly on the streets and fighting daily for his survival. It was also obvious
that the boy had no idea that what he was doing was causing such pain and
anguish for his victim.
As the weeks slowly turned into months, Sanzo gradually became aware that the
Voice was able to project imagery as well, not just words. He would sit down to
do his paperwork and lose an hour in the contemplation of a single feather that
he could not see with his physical eyes. It was maddening, and humiliating,
especially as the boy had an annoying knack of projecting things at the most
inopportune moments whenever Sanzo was out in public.
** ** **

//Does it look to you like Genjo Sanzo has some serious wood under his robes or
is it just me?
//You know, I'd like to say that it's just you, but you're right, he's
definitely bulging.
//Pretty inappropriate thing to get excited about if you ask me.
//His priests don't look too happy about it either, that one on the end there
looks ready to explode!
//Can't say I blame him. Popping wood at a funeral is pretty bad taste.

The first time that the Voice projected physical sensations onto Sanzo, he was
leading the funeral prayers for the daughter of the City Mayor.
At first, he dismissed the strange sensation running up and down his thighs as
the precursor to muscular cramps and did his best to stretch subtly. The
sensations became got stronger and moved up and onto his torso. Sanzo wondered
vaguely if the incompetent lout assigned to do his laundry has used too much
soap in the wash. When something that felt suspiciously like a pair of
fingertips squeezed his nipple firmly though, he had to concede that there
might be more to it than that.

\\Oh Merciful Goddess, please tell me that my little girl is going to a happier
place. All I ever wanted was for her to smile.
\\Oh Merciful Goddess, I want the bastard that did this to rot in hell. I will
do anything, I will give anything, just make that bastard suffer.

The uncomfortable sensations continued, and Sanzo found himself unconsciously
logging what each sensation meant. The slide of phantom fingers up the outside
of his ribs was probably the boy taking off his shirt. The broad brushes
against his chest were most likely the boy gliding his hands over wiry muscles
and the distinctive feeling of fingers wrapping around his cock really couldn't
be mistaken for anything else. The pounding of his heart drowned out the soft
sobbing emanating from the grieving people gathered before him.
He tried to keep his mind on the ritual prayers, but his body was rebellious.
Sweat started to bead on his brow and his tongue felt thick inside his mouth as
he tried to speak. There was an obvious tent beneath his formal robes and he
could feel the heavy weight of the Archbishop's livid gaze on his shoulders. He
didn't ask for this to happen, but he doubted that the man would understand
even if he could be bothered trying to explain.
Little sparks of pleasure ran up and down his nerves as illusionary fingers
worked harder around an erection that was not his own. His voice obviously
deepened as he chanted, and several of the mourners cast disgusted glances his
way. He did his best to send a desperate prayer of his own to the Merciful
Goddess, but the way that his balls suddenly felt like they are being rolled
around in a calloused palm derailed what was left of his thoughts.
He came quietly, unlike the Voice in his head which moaned loudly enough to
wake the dead and Sanzo was abruptly left with an empty head, a sticky mess in
his lap and a room full of upset and repulsed mourners. He vowed to do
everything in his power to find the boy as soon as possible and make him stop,
by force if necessary.
** ** **

//Did you hear about Genjo Sanzo?
//No, what's he done now?
//You know how he's been coming down into the city every day these past few
months?
//Yeah
//Well it turns out he's been looking for a boy of his own. He found one too,
and he's taken him back up to the temple.
//Fancy that eh? Like master, like student.

Sanzo had wandered the streets of the city at every opportunity, fruitlessly
looking for the owner of the Voice. The clues that the boy had left relating to
his whereabouts were frustratingly inconclusive, and Sanzo only had limited
amounts of time available to dedicate to his search, but he needed to find the
boy and stop his mental assaults before his brain finally turned to mush or he
was murdered by a horrified believer.
He walked down endless streets, his brain constantly battered by the
insignificant prayers that his mere presence inspired in the general populace.
He could remember Koumyo dragging him on long walks through the city during his
childhood, but the memories were hazy and indistinct and he couldn't recollect
the purpose behind the trips.

\\AMAZING! I DIDN'T THINK THAT PRIESTS EVER CAME DOWN HERE!

Sanzo stood stock still as the Voice finally confirmed that he was close. He
looked around the dirty, rubbish filled alleyway carefully.
"Where are you?" He asked vocally when he failed to see any form of human life
that could possibly be described as young and male. The few people loitering
around gave him strange looks, but he completely ignored them. Somewhere close
by was the boy who had been making Sanzo's life miserable for an entire year.
Even adding possible insanity to the list of things people whispered about him
was worthwhile if he could just locate the boy and make him stop.

\\WHOA! DID HE JUST SPEAK TO ME?

"Yes I did." Sanzo answered, still standing motionless in the gloom.
"Why?" Came a quiet reply, one that actually entered his mind via his ears.
Sanzo turned around and looked at the scrawny young man, older than he
expected, standing just out of arms reach.
"Because you've been making my life a living hell." Sanzo answered simply,
taking the time to really look at the boy. He was short and skinny, with long
brown hair and wide brown eyes. He was wearing a yellow headband, ragged
clothes and he smelt like he hadn't had the opportunity to bathe recently.
Instead of the endless anger that had been fuelling Sanzo's search, he found
that it was instead compassion which flooded through his body as he stared into
eyes that were older than they should be.
"Come back to the temple with me." He said, just as surprised to hear the words
emanating from his own mouth as the boy clearly was to hear them. There was a
moment's silence, and then the boy nodded affirmatively. Sanzo wondered just
how bad the boy's life must've been for him to accept the abrupt offer from a
man like himself.
"Okay, but only if you buy me dinner first." The boy said, and Sanzo blinked.
Dinner. First. Clearly the boy had heard the rumours then.
Sanzo felt shame and anger in equal proportions rush through his body; he
wanted to hit someone, to make an example of them, make them pay attention to
who he really was and not what the rumours painted him out to be. He didn't
though, he just nodded, turned on his heel and set off in the waning sunlight
back towards the temple, there was bound to be a meat bun stall somewhere along
the way. His stomach growled uncharacteristically at the thought, and he
scowled darkly as he realised that the boy was unconsciously projecting his
hunger.
** ** **

//You know that kid that follows Genjo Sanzo everywhere?
//The skinny one with the headband?
//Yeah him. Ryo told me that he heard that the boy sleeps in Sanzo's room with
him.
//That's not exactly news. You know that there's only one reason why a Sanzo
would take on a child like that.
//No, no, you don't get it! Ryo tells me that there's no evidence that they're
doing anything other than sleeping in there.
//Ryo couldn't find his ass with an atlas. Something's got to be going on,
otherwise why would Sanzo bother?

Living with Goku, the boy with the Voice, proved to be something of an
education to Sanzo. He was loud, boisterous and needed constant entertaining
lest he occupy himself with something that he really shouldn’t. The monks all
hated him, probably due to his outright refusal to conform to their rigid
rules. Sanzo had no idea what to do with him now that he'd found him.
Especially as Goku had no idea how he was projecting things and consequently
couldn't stop doing it.
Most of Sanzo's own early life was clouded by the haze of poppy smoke that his
guardian had used to keep his personal demons at bay and what little he did
remember clearly mostly involved lessons on how to be a perfect priest. His
teens weren't much better; he'd lost his father-figure and become an unwilling
conduit between Heaven and Earth. Since he'd reached adulthood, he hadn't
really done anything other than what was expected of him. It left him feeling
strangely empty whenever he thought about it.
A loud crash and an outraged scream echoed through the monastery interrupting
his introspection and Sanzo leapt to his feet without a second thought. He
burst out of his office and raced down the hallway, holding up his robes in his
hands to avoid tripping over the hems. Strangely there was no Voice in his mind
to let him know what had happened and for the first time ever he regretting not
hearing it.
Sanzo skidded around a corner into a scene right out of his nightmares. Goku
was sprawled on the ground, unconscious and covered in what looked like oil.
One of the senior priests was half naked, with long scratches visible down his
exposed chest, and between them was the shattered remains of a priceless
ceramic urn. Ignoring the priests, Sanzo knelt at Goku's side and checked his
breathing and heart rate.
Satisfied that no harm had come to his ward, Sanzo let his momentary fright
morph into anger. They might have seriously injured Goku with their petty
little schemes. He glared balefully at the priests and let rip with the sharp
side of his tongue as he gently gathered Goku's slippery body into his arms. He
grunted slightly as he rose to his feet, the boy was heavier than he had
expected, and continued his tirade as he turned towards the communal bathroom.
As he gently cleaned away the oil coating the now conscious but still groggy
Goku, Sanzo couldn't help but notice that his muscle tone had quite distinctly
improved. Simple, but constant, food combined with fresh air and daily practice
katas had smoothed away the pinched look from his slender frame and given his
skin a healthy glow.
He didn't realise that he'd been staring, motionless, until Goku's hand came to
rest lightly on the back his own, sensitive fingertips gently caressing his
wrist. Sanzo started in shock and met Goku's amused eyes.
Sanzo Goku said in his mind, his Voice soft and husky. Sanzo's heart skipped
and his breath stuttered, but it wasn't Goku's face he saw in his mind, it was
Koumyo's. He skittered backwards until his back hit the tiled wall of the
bathroom; he wasn't a little boy anymore, he could make his own decisions.
"Sanzo?" Goku said out loud, his voice high pitched and slightly panicked.
Sanzo ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated at his own unfortunate
response, and snapped at Goku to get into the shower and scrub himself properly
if he was feeling so lively. The hurt look that the boy shot him made his heart
ache, but Sanzo resolutely ignored it. He needed to nip this behaviour in the
bud, before it had time to take root.
His allegory suddenly reminded him of the Merciful Goddess's words from his
childhood, the mysterious request to 'be the sun' and he wondered if he was
doing the right thing. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he shook his
head in a physical attempt to dislodge it. Of course it was the right thing to
do; starting a relationship with his ward was immoral, regardless of how
tempting it might be at times.
** ** **

//Did you hear about Genjo Sanzo?
//No. What happened?
//He's abandoned the church! Just up and left last Thursday.
//Really? Whatever for?
//No one I've spoken to has any idea, all anyone knows is that he's gone.
//Huh, how strange, I'll see what I can find out.

Sanzo lay in his bed listening to the sounds of Goku snoring softly nearby.
They couldn't stay here. That much was obvious. Every day he heard more
whispers comparing him to Koumyo. He had loved his father figure dearly, but
they had very different ideas on dealing with children. Sanzo had never touched
Goku the way that Koumyo had touched him, and he had no intention of doing so
whilst Goku was dependent on him, despite the boy's rather obvious invitations.
A clean slate. It sounded wonderful in his mind, but he wondered how it would
work out in practice. He had spent hours meditating on the subject and not come
to any conclusive answers, other than the fact that he no real understanding of
how normal people lived on a day to day basis. He had spent his entire life in
the priesthood. Most of his days were taken up with prayers and meditation as
he performed his duties as the conduit between Heaven and Earth. He ate simple
meals that were provided by young monks-in-training and smoked cigarettes that
were donated by the faithful. He had never had to work for a living.
Rolling onto his side, Sanzo stared across the arm's length of empty space
between his bed and Goku's. He could no longer call the other a boy without
stretching the truth to breaking point; Goku was a young man, a highly
attractive young man who was quite clearly devoted to Sanzo, much to the
disbelief of the other occupants of the monastery who generally considered
Sanzo to be completely unlovable with his short temper and sharp tongue,
despite his pretty face.
The morning sunlight was casting a fine golden light across Goku's features and
Sanzo found his eyes tracing the soft lines of the other man's face. His
cheekbones were clearly defied, as was the patchy stubble that still didn't
need to be shaved off more than twice a week. His lips were parted and his
eyelids were fluttering as he dreamed, probably of food Sanzo thought
cynically.
It was summer and Goku only had a thin sheet covering his mid-section in an
effort to avoid the muggy heat. His lithely muscled chest was on clear display,
his dusky nipples drawing Sanzo's eyes. He unconsciously sent his own hand
sliding down his chest as he stared at Goku's near-naked body, enjoying the way
that his soft hands teased his skin with barely-there touches. He stared at
Goku's hands and wondered what they would feel like smoothing down his ribs to
grasp gentle hold of his hips.
Sanzo wrapped slender fingers around his half-hard member and tugged gently.
He'd seen Goku naked plenty of times and been seen in response, but never in an
intimate situation despite Goku's repeated attempts, and he wondered idly how
big Goku would get with enough stimulation. His hand sped up as he imagined how
Goku would look sprawled in debauched splendour on Sanzo's bed, his erection
enormous, red, and visibly throbbing for Sanzo's attentions.
Opening his mouth to increase the flow of oxygen to his brain, Sanzo suddenly
wondered what it would be like to kiss Goku. What would his mouth taste like?
Would he try and dominate the kiss or would he accept Sanzo's leadership? Did
Sanzo actually know how to lead a kiss? He imagined that Goku would taste like
pork buns and that he would yield to Sanzo's maturity and allow him to take
charge. It would be wonderful.
The sheets rustled as Sanzo's excitement grew. His eyes leapt continuously to
Goku's eyelids to keep checking that the young man was still asleep as the
motions of his own hand became more and more desperate. He muffled his moans in
the pillow as he peaked, uncomfortably aware that Goku's eyes had popped open
moments earlier and that he had a witness to his gross indiscretion – a witness
who would no doubt be eager for a repeat performance.
"Sanzo…" Goku began, his groin clearly starting to swell as Sanzo forced
himself to meet the young man's wide-eyed gaze.
"Pack you things," Sanzo said to head off a conversation that he really didn't
want to have right now, lest he die from sheer embarrassment "we're leaving."
** ** **

Dear Sanzo,
I've gone grocery shopping with Hakkai and Gojyo is out working this morning.
I'll cook lunch when I get back. Don't do anything strenuous (Hakkai has been
teaching me new words, can you tell?).
Love Goku

Sanzo lay on the bed silently appreciating the ache in his hips and knees. It
was a very visceral reminder of the activities that he and Goku had enjoyed the
night before. Rolling over, he listened carefully for any sounds from the rest
of the house. Hearing nothing, he buried his face in Goku's pillow and breathed
deeply, running his mind over the events of the previous evening.
Goku had come home late, smelling of sweet tea and spicy biscuits. He'd barely
even closed the door before positively pouncing on Sanzo, knocking him to the
floor and pinning him there. Sanzo had protested violently, but Goku had just
grinned down at him, secure in his knowledge that Sanzo didn't really mean it.
Sanzo had started to harden the moment that he'd laid eyes on his lover and
being pinned to floor beneath his familiar weight had set his heart pounding.
Above him, Goku had been equally excited, eagerly rubbing their groins together
and littering his face with tiny butterfly kisses. Sanzo had struggled just to
feel Goku's hands tighten around his wrists, and the soft kisses had turned
into sharp nips, it helped him to feel less guilty about his new life and set
his blood rushing in his ears.
The floor had been cold and hard beneath Sanzo's bony shoulders and hips,
Goku's warm weight pressing him down firmly. His mind had been clear and sharp
as they'd rocked together, tongues tangled and breaths mingled. It was heady
and wonderful and Sanzo seriously hoped that their flatmates could take a hint
and vacate the house for the evening.
All alone! Goku's Voice echoed in his mind, for some reason just as breathless
as Sanzo would have expected his real voice to be. He wondered how Goku had
known what he was thinking, but then dismissed the thought as his lover let go
of his wrists and slithered down his body to slip his head beneath the hem of
his nightrobe.
Sanzo gasped quietly as Goku licked a ticklish path up his left leg from his
knee to his groin. Work roughed hands slowly pushed his nightrobe up to his
waist and Sanzo arched up off the floor to assist. He was naked beneath it,
having deliberately left off his underwear in the hopes of teasing his lover.
Goku mumbled something unintelligible and excited-sounding before sucking one
of Sanzo's balls into his mouth and laving it with his tongue. Sanzo buried his
hands in his own hair and tipped his head back in pleasure.
Strong hands had pushed his legs up and out; leaving him feeling both horribly
exposed and incredibly turned on at the same time. He'd squirmed when Goku had
nosed his perineum and exhaled against his pucker. It was Goku's way of telling
Sanzo what he was planning, of giving him time to back out if he wasn't
comfortable, it was endearing if a little irritating at times – at his age
there was no way that Sanzo was going to tolerate anything he didn’t like.
The first swipe of Goku's tongue was thrilling and Sanzo bit his tongue to hold
in a moan of pleasure. Sharp-nailed fingers bit into his thighs as Goku picked
up on his excitement anyway and licked him firmly. Goku's tongue was incredibly
talented, Sanzo suspected it was because he gave it lots of exercise by talking
almost constantly, and it had him panting and on the verge of begging in an
embarrassingly short time.
When he was finally sopping wet with Goku's saliva, both inside and out, and
completely incoherent with desire, Goku pulled back and knelt up. His chin was
glistening beneath his wide grin as he ran his tongue lasciviously along his
bottom lip. His pupils were blown wide and his hands were clumsy as he fumbled
with his belt. Pushing himself up on shaky arms, Sanzo batted Goku's hands away
and ruthlessly pulled open the buckle and popped the button, the zip sliding
down as he pulled the fabric apart with eager hands.
That first moment when he sank down onto Goku's erection was indescribable; a
mix of pain and pleasure that thrilled his nerves and set his heart to pounding
like it wanted to vibrate right out of his chest. Goku's hands were tight on
his hips, guiding him rather than retraining him – consciously avoiding
situations that reminded Sanzo unequivocally of his childhood. It was sweetly
thoughtful and Sanzo couldn't help smiling slightly as he lent down to kiss his
lover sloppily on the lips.
They hadn't lasted long, grinding and writhing together on the hard floor,
before peaking almost in sync and slumping together, their pounding hearts
beating against each other. Sanzo had never been so happy.
** ** **

Genjo Sanzo, the 31st of China, passed away peacefully in his sleep. He is
survived by his partner Son Goku who declared him 'the light of my life, the
sun whose presence made my life worth living'. May his soul return to Heaven.
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