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Calling Him	By : GhostHelwig Category: Gensomaden Saiyuki > General Views: 2828 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gensomaden Saiyuki, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Calling Him
- 1
Disclaimer – I do not
own or profit from Saiyuki. It belongs
to the brilliant Kazuya Minekura, not me.
I couldn’t be her if I tried.
Partly ‘cause she’s all, like, brilliant and stuff. (*grin*)

Rated NC-17 for slash
(yaoi), sexual situations, and adult themes (including – story-SPOILER
– rape and pedophilia). I DO
NOT condone, advocate, or in any way approve of those two ‘adult’
themes, by the way, but I know they exist
– I’d have to be a fool not to – and thus they are briefly depicted here. Also, there’s like, five different pairings
in this, all surrounding Sanzo. Just so
you know...

Also, contains SPOILERS for up to volume five of the manga.

Dedicated to darthelwig,
who gave me the vague idea of having Sanzo be kind of a man-slut, which I took
and turned much darker than I think she’d intended. But the best laid plans of mice and sisters,
right? (*lol*)

Anyway, enjoy. Peace, all.

* * * * * * *

Calling Him

by Ghost Helwig

* * * * * * *

Hakkai
lets him do things to him, nasty things, things a priest shouldn’t know how to do. But Sanzo is no ordinary priest, and Hakkai
is needing (and inventive), and it’s
not as though he’s doing anything with Hakkai that Hakkai doesn’t want. Quite the opposite,
actually. This was Hakkai’s idea,
after all. Hakkai wanted it, wanted him, Hakkai offered, and Sanzo accepted
because he could see no good reason not to.

That
isn’t the only reason. But Sanzo can’t
remember the others anymore. Not when
Hakkai’s mouth is on his, Hakkai’s fingers are on him, and he just can’t think
when there’s a beautiful man waiting to be done.

Hakkai runs his fingers
over Sanzo’s throat, lightly scraping the skin.
Sanzo doesn’t smile – he never does – but Hakkai reacts as though given
some sign of approval, lips moving to suck on that pale, sweaty skin, and if he
leaves a mark there’ll be hell to pay tomorrow but he doesn’t care. He wants this, right now, and Sanzo is
fucking beautiful – he can’t even fathom anyone not wanting this man. He knows Sanzo has other lovers – he can
smell-taste-feel them on him – but they don’t matter. The future doesn’t matter. All that does is this.

But
later, when it’s over, Sanzo remembers.
He remembers a rainy night, too many bad dreams, and a light touch of
fingertips on his wrist that offered understanding without judgment, passion
without expectation, sex for only comfort and nothing more.

Hakkai’s head bobs
between Sanzo’s legs, and something about the sight of it disturbs him – he
feels dirty, somehow. Decadent. He, the monk, getting a
blowjob from the one who, more than any other, is his pupil. He’s fairly sure that breaks more than just
his monk’s vow of chastity. But Hakkai
gets off on this, too, Sanzo can see it when Hakkai looks up at him and smiles,
can feel it in the touch of the mouth that goes down on him, devours and
desires him, and fuck propriety, anyway. If this is taking advantage of Hakkai, if
Hakkai doesn’t want this, then Hakkai shouldn’t have come on to him. Hakkai is a big boy (bad mind, with its bad
jokes, he’d shoot his brain if it weren’t his own), and he knows how to play
big boy games just as well as the next guy.
Better, actually, if Sanzo’s opinion counts for anything.

So he lets Hakkai suck
him dry, and when Hakkai moves to kiss him Sanzo allows that, too. Now that he’s been given his due, he knows
what comes next. And he slides down the
bed wordlessly, spreading his lips as he will not spread his legs.

Hakkai
doesn’t just give of himself, either, Sanzo knows. Hakkai takes from him as well, probably takes
more from Sanzo than Sanzo takes from anyone, even Goku. Sometimes Sanzo hears his own words falling
from Hakkai’s lips, and he wishes he were back at the monastery, where he could
(hide) retire to his room and close
the curtains on a world where one broken man clung to his faltering footsteps
to guide him back to the path of righteousness.

Only
he has never been a righteous man.

But
Hakkai follows him, learns from him, takes from him. It is
allowed, because Sanzo knows it is all Hakkai knows how to do.

Sha
Gojyo saved Cho Gonou from dying. But
Genjyo Sanzo gave Cho Hakkai a reason
and a way to live.

Sanzo
knows that if the stupid kappa were ever to figure that out, his jealousy would
cut their already tenuous bond into ribbons.
But he doesn’t care. Jealousy is
a weakness, and Sanzo has no respect for the weak.

Why,
then, does he let Gojyo fuck him?

Though
he hates to admit it, Sanzo knows he does it because he is weak. If Hakkai is an intellectual
challenge, than Gojyo is a physical one.
Everything between him and Gojyo is physical, from their fights to their
(incredibly hot, stupid, passionate) sex.
Since the day they met Gojyo lit a fire in him, in his guts and his
libido. Sometimes it’s lust; sometimes
it’s hate.

Usually,
it’s both.

He is spread-eagled on
the bed, and Sanzo’s cock is between his legs, and all is right in Sha Gojyo’s
world. Sanzo slams him down into the
mattress, and Gojyo rams upwards to meet his furiously thrusting hips, and both
men are drenched with sweat but the slick heat of their skin only heightens
their arousal. Gojyo has never said it
(and he never will), but Sanzo is the only man he lets fuck him. He doesn’t know why it’s a privilege reserved
only for the ungrateful monk, but it is.
And that is right, too.

He
enjoys being inside Gojyo, just as he enjoys being inside Hakkai, but unlike
his experiences with Hakkai his ‘alone
time’ with Gojyo is best accomplished in silence, interrupted only by the sounds
of their own heat, their own desire. He
hates talking to Gojyo – it feels like butting his head into a concrete
wall. With spikes that jam into his
ears. And pour acid on his brain.

He
can’t imagine Gojyo feels any differently.

But
they don’t need to talk, not really, not much beyond ‘did you bring the lube?’ and ‘you’re
nuts if you think I’m letting you
fuck me, you perverted kappa’. They
say very little. And that suits them.

They’re grappling on the
bed, and even though Gojyo has the superior strength and wrestling ability (‘too bad for you, my
ground holds are killer’, he remembers
gloating as he straddled that lovely, lovely body mere minutes after they met,
what feels like – but obviously isn’t
– eons ago), he still loses. Perhaps he
lets himself lose – or maybe Sanzo did, all those years ago, though he can’t
imagine why he would; nor can he see the monk willingly losing at anything. But either way, Sanzo is on top of him, now, straddling him, and when Sanzo lowers
his head for a kiss Gojyo smiles and nips his lips. He thinks he wants Sanzo a little mad at him
– he’s rougher when he is.

And so when Sanzo grabs
his sash from the floor and uses it to bind Gojyo’s hands, Gojyo smiles even
wider, a self-satisfied grin. He may’ve lost, but he still managed to win.

There
is nothing of gentleness between them, the supplication that Hakkai gives
him. Hakkai gives himself up to be
fucked any which way Sanzo chooses; Gojyo must be caught, defeated, overcome.

But
willing. He must always be willing. Sanzo has no love lost for those that
rape. They steal what should only ever
be freely given. Though he doesn’t
believe in sin, there is something about that that is sinful. And not in the good
way, the way that is Hakkai’s eyes and Gojyo’s hands and Goku’s smile. In the way that screams Bad.

Sanzo
knows of rape. Only too well.

Fear, fight back, pain, fight back, anger, hatred, loss.

He
knows of many things no monk should ever know, especially when it comes to
sex. He’s been (fondled finger-fucked freed) too many times by too many different
people – if he ever had any innocence, it’s long gone by now.

It
doesn’t help matters that he can see lust
in the eyes of those around him. He
thinks he saw it first in Shuei’s eyes, back before his master’s death, way
back before he and Shuei were separated only to be reunited so Sanzo could kill
him. He’d sit, and Shuei would watch
him, and he understands now why his master warned him to never be alone with
the man for too long.

Alone, the man thought
of the boy and ran his fingers over his own chest, pretending it was young
Kouryuu who pinched his nipples, who caressed his hot flesh, who stroked him
where he needed it the most. When he was
with the boy, he controlled himself, if only barely – but alone, his desires
raged out of his control. He was afraid
one day they would break from the bindings he’d placed on them, and he would
hurt Kouryuu, he knew he would-

But little did he know
that that very night Kouryuu’s Master was dying, and Kouryuu himself would
leave the next day, leaving him to spend the next ten years dying from his
loss.

But
that same look has haunted him throughout the whole of his life; he’s seen it
in the eyes of random passerby, of helpless maidens they end up saving, of
youkai sent to kill him. He’s even seen
it in Kougaiji’s eyes, once, as they stood on top of a roof – Kougaiji turned
towards him, saw him up close for the first time, and there it was, plain as
day. LUST. Written across his forehead
in blazing letters, shining from his eyes in a violet beam. Kougaiji wanted
him, right then and there, Yaone and the others be damned.

Kougaiji can see it,
wants it, sees those violet eyes and those slim hips and that fuck-me, fuck-off
stare, and he wants
it. Bad. But
things must be done, and he never gets what he wants, and later when Dokugakuji
is fucking him he doesn’t mean to do it but he pretends the coarse dark hair
caught between his fingers is silky, fine and golden blond; pretends that the
rough, well-muscled body above his is slender and milk-smooth; pretends that
doing this doesn’t betray all that he and Dokugakuji are together.

And
damned they would have been, had Sanzo not been in possession of some morals. You do not screw your mortal enemy, especially
on a rooftop where you could both fall off and die. And then both sides of their little battle
would be, to put it mildly, kinda screwed.

Okay,
so maybe it wasn’t morals, precisely
– but he had some self-preservation, at least.

But
Kougaiji never lets it show again, not even a flicker, and that’s fine by
Sanzo. He needs no more complications in
his life.

Besides
which, Kougaiji, for all he’s seen of him, is still a child in many ways. And only true perverts have sex with children.
Not even Gojyo would ever sink that low.
And while it could be argued Sanzo is not a truly holy monk, he knows he is better than that.

No,
what condemns him, what he knows he can never be forgiven for, what will
undoubtedly bring the circle of karma down on him, is what he does with Goku.

It
isn’t that Goku is a child, because he isn’t, or that Sanzo uses him, because
he doesn’t. But he... enjoys Goku, in a way he allows himself
with no others. And that seems very,
very wrong somehow, in a way Sanzo can’t explain.

Swift, entrancing kisses
are raining down on his neck, his chest, all of his skin. And Sanzo gives himself up to the sensations,
mindlessly trusting Goku not to hurt him, to use this against him later with small
teases like Gojyo would (heedless of his sensitivity, like always), to use it
against him later in another way, to mold and manipulate his will, like Hakkai
would. Goku would do nothing more with
his vulnerability than caress it, touch it and love it and ache with it,
because it is his, his sun’s,
Sanzo’s.

He
lets Goku play with his hair after their exertions – a weakness, and one he
shows with no others. He kisses Goku
softly, sometimes – another weakness, a softening that he cannot abide and cannot
change. He moans Goku’s name when the
boy’s fingertips rest gently on his chest, above his heart – and he cannot even
think of that without knowing it to
be Wrong.

But
worst of all, worse even than that, when their passion is sated, he stays the
night.

He sleeps beside his
charge, exhausted, spent, reprieved from his usual
lonely pain by the simple touch of his lover, his pet, his star. He is held, and
when it rains during the night he doesn’t wake, nor does he dream.

He
can’t understand himself sometimes. Why
does he do these things? They’ll only
hurt him in the end.

But
Goku is given liberties he denies all others, and Sanzo
can’t, won’t, put a stop to it. He doesn’t understand it, no – but to run
from it would be to admit that he fears
it. And that he will never do.

Goku is waiting,
patiently, for his breathing to slow to something at least resembling normal.
But Sanzo can’t relax into this, can’t let down his guard, he’s afraid,
he hates himself for it and he can’t say it but he is afraid-

But then Goku’s mouth is
claiming his, distracting him, and when he remembers he’s with Goku he relaxes
somewhat. This is Goku, here now – beloved, idiot monkey.
He can allow Goku this. He can
allow himself this.

So he spreads his legs,
and lets Goku inside them.

So
when it’s Goku’s turn that night, and the monkey is kissing his neck and
begging him, willing him, to stop
going to those others for what Goku can easily provide him (and better, too), he finds himself
agreeing. Without
thinking. Later it will scare
him, that he didn’t think, that to be a man of his word he will have to deny
himself some of his few comforts, but in the moment-

‘I love you, please
Sanzo, won’t you stay? Please?’

All
he can feel is Goku. Calling
him once again.
- 1
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Calling Him