Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Saiyuki Reload Fan Fiction ❯ What Lust Allows ❯ Chapter 1

Title: What Lust Allows

Author: Shirahime

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Goyjo/Sanzo

Word count: 757

Summary: Taking care of the needs of one's body.

 

In the dimly lit room of the inn, Sanzo leaned against the wall behind him for support. His legs felt as though they'd give way at any moment. He held a hand over his mouth, his teeth gritted behind closed lips that threatened to open in a scream. This was so… filthy, so base. And yet he allowed it. Sanzo allowed that smirking mouth to sheath his length again and again, Goyjo on his knees before him. Sanzo shut his eyes against the sight of red eyes boring up into his, goading him to cry out, to yield.

 

It had started—whatever `it' was, this thing between them—with furtive glances as Sanzo headed for the showers, and the reflection of heated red eyes in the rear view mirror of the jeep catching his. This led to Goyjo lingering outside the door of Sanzo's room when the others had gone shopping, the priest eying the redhead over his newspaper. Soon Goyjo was offering a game of cards to pass the time in the evening after the others had retired. One night, too much alcohol, and red eyes blazed into his, tempting him and taunting the priest all at once, luring him to take that last step over the line that he'd been treading for so long.

 

Every morning afterward, there was regret, with Sanzo waking to find that Goyjo had crept out during the night to his own room, perhaps so that their other companions would remain unaware of their affair. But at times, a knife of doubt would twist in Sanzo's gut as he lay on soiled sheets, the thought that perhaps he was a convenience or a novelty. But those doubts never led the priest to refuse that coaxing touch and warm embrace.

 

So now, here he was, arching against the wall, a hand fisted in red locks as he uttered a choked groan. Goyjo managed to chuckle somehow around his length even as he was busy swallowing the priest's essence. Such a dirty act to Sanzo, yet the sight of it caused a pang of arousal. Rising quickly, Goyjo pulled the monk close enough so that he could feel his needy hardness twitching where it was trapped between them. A rough kiss parted soft lips and a demanding tongue pushed its way inside. Sanzo groaned, ashamed of his excitement at tasting himself on the other man's lips.

 

Items of clothing were cast off as the pair made their way haphazardly to the bed. Sanzo found himself tumbling backwards onto the mattress with Goyjo following him down. More kisses and the touch of hands that lit the monk's skin aflame. A hand stroking him back to hardness as slick squirming fingers sought entrance. Sanzo grunted as he always did when they pressed inside of him, his hips rising to meet the probing digits.

 

Soon there was something larger than fingers pushing inside. Sanzo groaned through gritted teeth. No matter the preparation, it always stung at first. He knew that despite the discomfort, the burning would morph into a pleasure that he almost couldn't bear. He wanted to be consumed by it, to be burnt away by the passion of a man with fiery hair the color of the sunset that he and his master used to watch together long ago. As the pleasure mounted, Sanzo rose up restlessly onto hands and knees. Long firm strokes had almost undone him, along with the voice that questioned him between deep breaths, goading him to speak of his delight. But Sanzo gave no answer; he never did, not trusting his own voice. For his words might turn into pleas, and despite his need, he couldn't bring himself to beg, not this man, not any man. But he always came so close.

 

A few more deep thrusts and they were there, tumbling over the edge, tumbling toward the sheets, spent. The momentary heaviness of Goyjo's body pressing Sanzo to the mattress was lightened as the redhead rolled off onto his back, panting as he wore a satisfied grin. Dancing eyes caught Sanzo's, and the monk allowed himself the faintest smile in return.

 

Later, Sanzo lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the dim light cast from the window, listening to the soft breathing of his lover. That nagging doubt crept upon him as his body began to slip towards rest. He wondered how he had become a servant to his lover's desires and to his own. And he wondered whether or not at daybreak he'd be alone again.

 

End