An Echo, A Stain

Sanzo was already soaked by the time he reached the shrine. It was a small, drafty little shack, suitable for doing little else but keeping the rain off his head until it let up. The ceiling was low, meant for kneeling or crouching, but it was long enough for Sanzo to stretch out and have a cigarette in, a right he immediately exercised.

For all it was old and worn, someone took the time tonight to place fresh flowers with newly copied scriptures, the ink still fresh. The candles were bright but barely made a dent in the inky, driving rain. Still, a nice gesture. Most people out in here in bumfuck Egypt didn't give a shit about showing their devotion. Not that they needed to, but it was convenient to Sanzo that someone did.

Tch. He was soaked. Sanzo pulled off his robes, hanging them from the rafters. He lit another cigarette and watched its smoke curl with the wafting strands of the incense. In spite of being cold and damp, the sound of the rain beating on the roof made Sanzo a little sleepy. He thought of a distant night when he was far smaller, laying his head on a warm lap, cradled by the scent of cigarettes and incense and soothed by the gentle fingers combing through his hair.

His drifting thoughts were interrupted by an orange paper airplane cutting through the shadows over his head. Sanzo sat up suddenly, drawing his gun.

There was no warning. No flare of chi or magic. Koumyou was simply there when he wasn't before, sitting perched on one of the open window frames and looking quietly pleased. He was just like Sanzo remembered him, his smile and his long, soft ponytail. Even in the dimness of the shrine his form was unmistakable.

"You're looking well, Genjyo," said Koumyou. "Have you discovered how to play in the rain?"

Sanzo wanted to believe he was just dreaming. He hadn't had a dream this vivid, weird or otherwise, in a damn long time. But he remembered how they felt. Not like this. The smoke of the cigarettes and incense made things a little indistinct, but Sanzo knew he hadn't fallen asleep. He'd be burning a hole in his jeans with the cig if he had.

He wondered what kind of shrine this was, exactly.

But only for the half-second it took for him to cock and aim his pistol. It didn't really matter how much he looked like Koumyou. Sanzo wasn't in the mood for being fucked with.

Not that he ever really was.

Rain flooded the cracks of silence that grew between them. After a long moment, Sanzo lowered his gun. Two of him seemed to exist in that moment. The adult Sanzo who knew better, knew not to trust even what his eyes ears nose heart told him was true, and the child by another name who very nearly cried out for his Master.

"What're you doing here?" Sanzo demanded in a dark mutter, hating himself already for the weakness of lowering his gun. This had to be a trick.

Koumyou shrugged. "I happened to be in the area, so I dropped by."

"Isn't that just fucking dandy."

"I thought so," said Koumyou lightly, either missing or ignoring Sanzo's sarcasm. A powerful vice squeezed Sanzo's heart when his mentor laughed. He thought of his distant daydream, of other nights Koumyou's long hair shimmered like gold in flickering candlelight. Those nights, he comforted Sanzo from nightmares by telling stories or petting his hair. Sanzo would have given anything for an encounter like that - to see Koumyou in a capacity that didn't leave him so suspicious and unsettled.

When Koumyou leaned forward, Sanzo scooted back. He still had his hand on his Smith & Wesson.

"Do you have a light?" Koumyou raised a cigarette on a slender holder, held between two fingers. It was familiar to Sanzo as his own breath in his chest.

"Yeah," said Sanzo, offering the lighter without a thought, like it was normal for him to take his hand off his gun, let alone to offer anything. Fingers brushed palms in the transfer and Sanzo felt a pulse, felt nothing at all dead about Koumyou. But why was he here?

Click, glint, inhale. Exhale. They were sitting closer now, both crosslegged, almost touching. Koumyou felt alive. Warm. Heavy. They sat smoking without speaking for a long time. Sanzo kept stealing glances at Koumyou, who seemed perfectly content with the rain, the smoke and silence. It really was him. Aside from no longer carrying the sutra, he really was just as Sanzo remembered, from the fine line of his jaw to his serene-yet-determined posture, even the mark on his forehead.

The child lost inside Sanzo stumbled over his own feet like a newborn foal, wanted to beg and plead, Am I doing okay? You left me without saying anything. Am I doing everything you hoped?

Shut the fuck up, Sanzo told that dew-eyed child, You're not supposed to be here, either. Go back to where you came from. I don't have time for this bullshit. He flicked some ash out the window, and didn't see Koumyou was staring.

It really didn't take much at all for Koumyou to wrestle Sanzo to the floor, the gun skittering out of reach. Koumyou pinned him belly down, chin almost on the altar. Pulled one of his robes from where it hung from the ceiling like a white flag, tore a long strip from a fraying sleeve and used it to tie his hands behind his back. Sanzo squirmed and kicked and -

"What the fuck, old man? What the hell are you doing? If you want to kill me, get on with it already!"

The child in his heart again, pleading: What did I do? You left me and now this?

These were hands that held him as an infant. Ruffled his hair in encouragement. Stroked his back when he was sick or in need of comfort. These hands were unzipping his pants, roughly. These hands were yanking his pants down.

"You must be kidding me," Sanzo spat, still fighting but he was never that strong, especially not against his memories. "He was never into that." There were always rumors about the type of person Koumyou was, taking in a boy as beautiful as Kouryuu, but he let the comments roll off his back with feigned ignorance and easygoing laughs. "Do your fucking research."

"Maybe I wasn't into my adorable little Kouryuu, but you." Koumyou's lips were on his skin - the back of his neck, his bare shoulder. Koumyou was heat and movement, but his touch made a cold tremor jolt down Sanzo's spine. "You're a grown man now. Capable of feeling. Capable of understanding. Bright and beautiful as the sun. I'm so proud you turned out lovely."

Sanzo's jeans slipped down around his thighs. A hand that was too soft for what it was doing circled Sanzo's cock. There could be mistake how much Sanzo hated this, but his body was an unreliable vessel at best, and it jerked to hardness at that touch. Koumyou squeezed him and Sanzo made a noise, not sure if it was a cry, a whimper, or a bleated curse. "Fucking quit," he said roughly. "You of all people know this is wrong."

"I always found fun in contradiction," said Koumyou. His lips near Sanzo's ear. He pressed something hot and thick against the soft, ticklish part of Sanzo's thigh, drew it up, sticky slow, sliding between his cheeks.

Sanzo sucked in a breath through his teeth. So that's how it was going to be.

"Is this your first time, Genjyo?"

"None of your goddamn business." Sanzo spoke through his teeth. Tested the bonds round wrist, but they held fast. Koumyou paused, seeming to consider something. He made a little sound like 'aha' and halted his molestation. Sanzo knew better to hope, but he couldn't help the relief the flooded him for the brief moment until Koumyou yanked by the shoulders and threw him on his back.

"Watch it!" Sanzo snapped instinctively. He'd nearly hit his head on the altar. He tried again to free his hands, but now his weight was resting on them and they were going numb. Then Koumyou did something truly awful.

Koumyou kissed him.

He tasted like cigarettes. His lips were soft, his tongue was gentle, and it was such violation that Sanzo felt the steam of sour bile rising from the back of his throat. And that tiny, suppressed little voice within Sanzo yelled no no no no no when Koumyou forced open his legs, thrust his prick in, sheathed himself.

Sanzo's body went livid with pain. It resisted the invasion, arched and clenched to no effect. He couldn't get away and that was horrible, but somewhere apart from the animal panic he thought this was going too easily. So where were the drugs that made this possible? That Yaone wench wasn't that creative. Didn't make sense for her to do this, and she didn't know Koumyou, but-- It became more and more difficult to focus as Koumyou pistoned his hips, split Sanzo inexorably. And the friction was enough for blood, enough that it should have been hurting Koumyou, too, but he seemed unstoppable. Unstoppable like-- because it had to be--

Then Koumyou started stroking him in time with his assaulting thrusts. Sanzo hissed and tried to squirm away, but that only seemed to pull Koumyou further in. A bit of his long, long hair slipped down his back and neck and tickled Sanzo's face. Sanzo looked away. What happened to his cigarette, his gun, his distractions? He needed to think of anything but this, needed to be anywhere but here.

"Ah-ah-ah," Koumyou chided, and grasped his chin to kiss Sanzo. Sanzo bit him. Hard. And was rewarded with a stinging slap across the face.

"You're not him," Sanzo concluded

"I am in every way that matters," Koumyou replied, and drove deep. Hit something. Made Sanzo cry out loud.

Koumyou fucked him hard and quick, fucked him raw. It was not subtle, it was not gentle, it was not anything like Koumyou. But he was warm and alive and he smelled the same, his hair against Sanzo's cheek felt the same. The worthless vessel of his body was numb and ravaged, but his nerves seemed to misfire, bring him unexpected thrums of something like sickening pleasure. His cock was throbbing, damn it. Sanzo knew he was trembling, and he wasn't sure if the quiet sobs he heard were inside our outside his head. And as he gasped, choked and staggered to the edge of the abyss, Koumyou kissed him again. Sweetly.

"I love you."

The knot that was Sanzo loosened itself for half a moment. Wanted to take it in, that affection, for one single weak half-second. And that's all that it took, really. An exhalation and knotted brow and a bitten lip. Koumyou groaned and filled him with hot, spurting shame.

Sanzo came hard.

And Ukoku was there, giving a round of applause. Had he always been there, watching from his perch in the window? A crow cried in the distance.

"I knew," Sanzo snarled, still catching his breath, "I knew it wasn't him."

"That'll do, Koumyou," Ukoku said. Koumyou chuckled a little and stroked Sanzo's cheek, still leaning over him.

"I'm proud of you. How you've grown."

"Shut the fuck up." Sanzo recoiled from the touch. "You're disgusting."

"And you're a hypocrite," Ukoku interjected as Koumyou extracted himself from Sanzo's sullied form. Ukoku couldn't help but smile. Sanzo was looking very much like an old, beat up rag doll. As Koumyou rose to his feet, Ukoku did not resist the urge to place a bruising kiss to his lips, place a possessive hand at his waist for a moment before making him disappear. Ahh, there it was. That fierceness in Sanzo's eyes again. He was still thinking he wasn't defeated.

"Was there a point to this, except to get your rocks off? I knew it wasn't him to begin with."

"Maybe you did and maybe you didn't. I notice you're shying away from saying his name. Is it because it hurts, because you still miss him?"

Sanzo snorted and tugged at his bonds, though his wrists were rubbed raw. So much attitude for a slender, bruised young man with come dripping out his bloody, battered ass.

Much to Sanzo's chagrin, Ukoku kept talking. "I know how you've suffered with those painful memories engraved on your psyche. I only wanted to give you and Koumyou some sweet memories of your last time together."

"If I call you a sicko perv you'll just agree with me. So I suggest we move past this pointless bullshit. Fucking untie me."

Ukoku hadn't really noticed he was doing it, really. Stroking himself through his robes, thinking of how vibrant and indigo Sanzo's eyes were when he came. How vehement they were as he suffered now. They were little lights, so much brighter than the orange glow of ordinary candles. "You say all that, but the truth is, now when you think of your beloved father-figure, you'll remember him coming deep in your ass. And you'll remember how you came for him."

Ukoku had his ruddy, stiff cock in his hands and was working it without shame. Sanzo rolled his eyes and managed to struggle to his knees and would have made it to his feet, but--

Ukoku grabbed him by the hair, pinched his nose to force his mouth open. And shoved his cock. Right in. Sanzo was overwhelmed by the bitterness of it, the throbbing, the way it was not at all like meat like he'd expected.

"I should've shut you up like this long ago," Ukoku said. Right. Sanzo was the one who needed to shut up. Uh-huh.

Sanzo tried not to gag as Ukoku thoughtlessly thrust into his throat. It took a lot of willfire not to puke, and he only avoided it by thinking Ukoku wasn't worthy of receiving his upchuck.

"Let's play a game. It's called suck me or I'll kill you."

Like dying was such a big deal. Like Ukoku could really kill him. But Sanzo did as he said, as much as he could. Worked his mouth around it, licked, swallowed down what Ukoku forced into him.

The neglected, ignored, and now broken, ragged child within Sanzo was crying softly.

Tch. It's going to be fine. Stop crying.

Ukoku couldn't believe how much Sanzo was getting into this. Moaning, moving along with his movements, licking. To be perfectly honest, he thought that Sanzo would bite his dick off the moment he saw it. Instead he was sucking it like a pro, such a fucking slut, just like he always knew he was. With a steady supply of drugs and a few choice procedures he'd make a far better pet than Kougaiji. Ukoku imagined him in a collar, those pretty eyes dead and submissive. Like a corpse's. Like Koumyou's never were.

Ukoku came in thick ropes over Sanzo's perfect face, all but howling in mad satisfaction. Damn, but it felt good. He'd wanted to do this since the first time Koumyou mentioned his 'adorable Kouryuu.' Fuck him. Hahaha, fuck him.

He almost didn't make it, after that. Hadn't thought about how Sanzo was shifting around finding a perfect moment of weakness. How he might have a chance to get his hands free with some work. Suddenly Sanzo was firing that gun of his and Ukoku had to take off before he even had a chance to put his dick away.

Sanzo watched the glint of Ukoku's glasses disappear like the Cheshire Cat's grin.

Then there was nothing but the gloomy, hypnotic sound of rain, and the fucking mess he was in.

Go back to sleep, kid, Sanzo spoke to the lost little kid inside him. Koumyou's not coming back.

Is it... still okay to love him? The tiny voice in his mind stammered.

How the fuck should I know, I don't fucking know. Just let me get some sleep. I just want to sleep.

After gingerly replacing his clothes, Sanzo attempted to do just that. He curled up with his back to the wall and let the rain lull him to sleep. Tried not to think of orange paper planes or hands that knew him better than he knew himself.

Hakkai found Sanzo in the morning, folded in a tight little ball with his face in the crook of his arm. "What a funny old shrine," he murmured, crouching to examine the altar, "It looks like no one's been here in years."

Sanzo made a sound that was probably something along the lines of 'go the fuck away.'

Hakkai looked over him carefully. "It looks like we'll need to do some laundry before we hit the road again. And repairing these tears in your robes might take a day or two."

Sanzo didn't reply. Maybe he appreciated Hakkai's diplomatic way of saying you look like shit and we're not going anywhere until I patch you up, but he didn't exactly feel up to voicing it.

Hakkai smiled that 100-volts-of-irritating grin of his. "There's a pot of coffee and today's newspaper waiting for you at the inn we found," he said. "It's not far." He offered Sanzo a hand up.

Sanzo took it.