Author: Mosh Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
Blinding white light flared first and consumed everything, followed a split second later by a deafening crack that resounded like thunder. Then came the subsequent bone-wrenching flush of pain, that took up residence in every inch of Sanzo’s body. He was sure he could hear Hakkai’s panicked voice, somewhere to his left, beneath all the other disorientating distractions. “Sanzo, Goku, get down!” Too late; Sanzo couldn’t feel his limbs anymore, let alone tell whether he was still standing or not. As for the monkey, Sanzo had no idea, but Goku was surprisingly impervious to fatal injuries. Or maybe that would be impossibly repellent. If Sanzo had control of his facial muscles, he would have winced. He resolved not to let it concern him, though. Not yet. It wasn’t the first time he’d been caught in a blast like this, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Stabbed, knocked out, blown up - it was all the same to him. It all hurt like a motherfucker. But pain eventually receded, he knew, and the explosion hadn’t felt that big. At least, he didn’t think it did. Ah, there we go. The pain started to ebb gradually, the pressure of it seeping out of him like it was exiting through each and every pore on his body. Sanzo forced himself to ease into it, let it wash through his system, welcoming the numbness of unconsciousness. Soon he’d be out, and the healing could begin. But as he started to slip into the dense, black hold of nothingness, he had the most surreal feeling, like he was floating upwards rather than being dragged under. In all the years, all the countless times he’d been knocked out, this feeling was entirely unfamiliar. What the fuck is going on now, he thought irritably, right before he passed out.
* * *
Sanzo woke with a pulsing, persistent ache in his head, another in his left shoulder, and another throbbing in his right hip. It was customary; he always regained consciousness before he was entirely healed, since there was only so much of Hakkai’s chi to go around. Sanzo didn’t expect to have more than he needed, just enough to get him back on his feet. The thing that hit him immediately after waking was that the ache felt different this time. The discomfort was more concentrated, like it was packed into his limbs tighter than usual. Disorientation flushed through him and he tried to move, to pull himself out of it, but to no avail. He wanted to growl, swear, or better - yell, but his vocal chords had yet to catch up. Putting his other senses to use, Sanzo took a second to let the giddiness pass and assess the situation. Wherever he was, it was warm and quiet and smelled vaguely of freshly polished wood. Beneath him, something squashy supported his prone body. It had to be a bed. A really soft one - not like the cheap beds in the even cheaper hotels where they sometimes stayed. Well, that was something, he supposed. He waited, no concept of time; he could’ve lain there for minutes, or it may have been hours. Submerged in the dull twinge of his injured joints, Sanzo worked on zoning out the headache that was building at his temples. Finally, implementing all the energy he was able to gather, Sanzo got his arms moving. He opened his eyes, but they were not yet focused. He winced as he started to push himself up, unable to hold back a groan as he levered himself inch by inch into a sitting position. He didn’t know how long it’d been since he’d used his voice. It sounded strange in the quiet - totally unlike him. For all Sanzo knew, he could’ve been out for days. Gingerly rubbing his face with his hands, Sanzo forcefully dispelled the fogginess. He was awake, and now he needed to get a fucking grip. His skull pounded as he began to focus, as his eyes started picking up strains of light falling in from a nearby source. Sanzo turned his head to his right. There was a bay window, the shutter drawn down half way, embroidered net curtains covering the lower section. The light outside filtered through, illuminating the room comfortably, but it wasn’t a warm glow. Rather stark, in fact - a bright winter sun. Looking down, Sanzo found his original assumption had been correct: he was sitting in a spacious double bed, its covers off-white and dusted with some sickly floral pattern. Sanzo wondered if he had voice enough to shout for Hakkai, to find out exactly what had happened. He cleared his throat, though it still sounded odd - higher pitched than normal. Scrapping that idea, Sanzo decided it was time to get moving. He squinted against the light, pulling the bedcovers off his lap. Steeling himself for the inevitable pain, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Regardless of his hip damage, at least he could move his legs and his feet seemed to be working, too - testing out his flexibility, he rotated them a few times. Oddly, they didn’t reach the floor. He supposed the bed frame was higher than the standard. Sanzo heard a noise, like a sucked in breath. He knew he hadn’t made it, and every part of him tensed up in reflex, suddenly alert. Someone else was in the room. He looked up sharply, ignoring the throbbing inside his skull, striving for some long-distance focus. A figure swam into view, sitting on a bed opposite him that was identical to the one he was perched on. It appeared the room he’d been put in was a twin. And judging by the thin, blond-haired, purple-eyed monk sitting across from him, so was he. “What the fuck?” Sanzo immediately went for his gun, but when he patted himself down he couldn’t locate it on his person. Which didn’t make sense; Hakkai was always meticulous about not messing with Sanzo’s few possessions: the sutra, his gun, and his harisen. But apparently this time he had. “Shit,” Sanzo added, not taking his eyes off the man - himself. He cleared his throat a second time; his voice still sounded strange in his ears. Okay, think this through. It wasn’t the first time Sanzo had been in this type of situation. He’d met his doppelganger once before - the shikigami impostor that’d tried to kill him. Only, for some weird reason, this one didn’t seem in any hurry to shoot at him. This one wasn’t holding a Smith and Wesson at all. Sanzo lowered his eyebrows. He remained frozen in place, weaponless, confused, and rapidly growing annoyed at this ridiculous turn of events. “Who are you?” he demanded. His words came out weaker than he’d intended. “The hell is going on here?” “Um,” said the imitator, blinking at him. One thing was certain - this guy was doing a lame job of impersonating him. Wide purple eyes stared at him unguardedly. Something in that expression seemed vaguely familiar to Sanzo, though he couldn’t quite place it. The other guy was on edge, his body tense and he was obviously as confused as Sanzo was. Yet he made no move, no attempt on Sanzo’s life. If anything, there was fear building and mixing with the shock in the other monk’s expression. “I asked you a question,” Sanzo said lowly, although his voice still felt too light, not gravelly enough. “What the fuck is going on here? Who’s controlling you?” He glanced around the room, checking to see if there were any hiding places for the puppet master who surely must be commanding this idiot version of himself. There were two doors - one was ajar and opened into a small en-suite bathroom. The other was closed, but it had to be the exit. “Come out, you bastard!” He listened, breath held, but no wicked laughter was forthcoming; no sounds of movement came from behind either door. Sanzo’s frown deepened, then morphed into a scowl. “I… oh crap,” said the impostor slowly. Sanzo had never heard his own voice sound like that before - so panicky, almost a whine. “S… Sanzo?” The other’s gaze lowered, sweeping down Sanzo’s body, then raking back up. The disbelief gracing his sharp-cut features intensified considerably. “Oh crap,” he repeated in a weak tone. “Sanzo, look… look at yourself.” “Nice try,” spat Sanzo. It was weird, but the more he spoke - the more he heard himself in his own ears - the more he seemed to sound like… but no, that was stupid. “If you think you can distract me, just try it. I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” Actually, it looked like he was going to have to kill the bastard anyway, since the other Sanzo currently had the Maten sutra draped around his shoulders. Not only that, but it looked like the sutra was creased. As soon as he had the chance, Sanzo was going to beat him to a fucking pulp and then kill him. Having kicked his sluggish limbs into motion, Sanzo now found he had enough strength to carefully push himself up off the side of the bed. He locked his gaze on his double as he rose. As his feet touched the cool floorboards, he set his knees to action, straightening and drawing himself up to his full height. He occasionally used this stance to intimidate, if threats or sarcasm didn’t work and his foe seemed a few sutras short of a Buddhist. This one certainly did. But something was off. Way off. For some reason, even though he was now standing and the imitation Sanzo was still sitting, Sanzo didn't feel all that impressive. The other Sanzo stared up at him almost pleadingly, which just made him look ridiculous. Sanzo glared at him, but nothing else was forthcoming. Ever since he’d regained consciousness, Sanzo had been feeling the strangest sense of displacement. He couldn’t shake it off, the close set of his limbs, the sensation that the room was larger than it should be, judging by the proportions of the furniture. He manoeuvred himself into a fighting stance, just in case the other guy wasn’t as dumb as he acted, and quickly glanced down. Then back up. Then he looked down again, and this time he froze in place. He was still unconscious. That was it. Or he was hallucinating - the blow to his head must’ve been pretty fucking hard. “Sanzo…” It was his own voice, spoken from directly in front of him. It was soft this time, shaky. “I think something bad happened at that temple.” “Oh, you think?” Sanzo grated as he looked up, only now he realised why he sounded so foreign in his ears, in his head. It was because when he spoke it wasn’t his own voice that came out. No. It was Goku’s. He tried to process a thousand things in his brain all at once. Sanzo knew he had to calm the hell down and think things through before he took action. He stared down at himself - at the impostor - already fearing the worst. “Tell me your name.” The blond blinked at him. “Me? I’m Goku.” He glanced down, running his fingers over the material at his knees, twisting in the fabric of his white robe. “Uh, I think.” Only Goku could sound that perplexed. Sanzo let his shoulders relax minimally, though he couldn’t say he was relieved - the prospect of imminent murder had passed, yes, but a colossal sense of disbelief rose in its place. There was no way this could be happening. Yet, the longer he surveyed the other man’s movements and reactions, the more certain Sanzo became that it really was the monkey in there. Which was absurd, but all evidence so far pointed in that direction, and nothing more seemed ready to be revealed. Right, so difficult as it was to believe, it was pretty much confirmed that Goku was currently occupying his body, or, if not his body, then one that looked identical. Sanzo held his hands up and stared at them, at the golden-brown skin of his palms, the shorter, thinner fingers than he was used to. He clenched them, released, his gaze passing over the wristbands, up his tanned arms, dark moles dotting the skin like carelessly sprinkled earth. Somehow he doubted checking in a mirror would change things. No, there was no mistaking the fact that he was, at that moment, in Goku’s body. Well, technically he’d been in Goku’s body before. Quite a few times, actually. But not like this. Sanzo could not hold back an incredulous huff. He stumbled back a couple of unsteady paces, suddenly exhausted. When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed he let himself sink down onto it. Looking up again at his own face, he finally said, “Tell me the last thing you remember.” There had to be some way he could sort this mess out, he was sure, and he wasn’t about to twiddle his thumbs or waste more time on shock. It was the weirdest thing, to look at himself as if staring at a reflection, yet know it was the monkey controlling his muscles. Goku bit his lower lip, his forehead crinkling as he thought carefully before answering. “Um… there was an explosion.” Sanzo rolled his eyes. “Before that, idiot.” “Oh.” Goku’s eyebrows dipped. Sanzo searched his own memories for something prior to the blinding pain, though nothing came to him, just that split-second of white light. “Oh!” Goku repeated, more enthusiastically. “I remember we were in the temple and there was a platform thing there.” His - Goku’s - eyes widened as he recalled. “And there was a pot in the middle of it. Like, a clay jar, only it looked really old.” Sanzo was almost impressed. Slowly, as if a dam was starting to burst, images and sounds began to seep back into his head. Sanzo could picture the temple. In his mind’s eye he could see the thick stone plinth chiselled from the mountain rock, and atop it the- “The Urn of Ch’in Shu Pao,” he muttered to himself. Of course - that was why they’d originally climbed up to the mountaintop temple in the first place. Against his wishes, he remembered bitterly. When they’d finally stopped for a night’s rest, Sanzo, the monkey, Hakkai and the kappa had found themselves in the town of Shanxi - a relatively large settlement cradled in the arms of snow-laced, wide western mountains. Compared to some of the other shitholes they’d stayed in it could’ve almost been considered picturesque in its unassuming, rustic tranquillity. However, the moment Hakuryuu had rolled to a stop outside the town’s inn, Sanzo had sensed something dark and pressing in the atmosphere. It was only moments later that he had placed it. Fear. Dreaded, consuming fear, in its purest form. Later that night, after the four of them had fed and watered, and Sanzo had sufficiently caffeinated himself, he’d enquired at the bar. It turned out, from what the innkeeper had said, that there had been a number of strange deaths in the town during the past few months - people found lying in their homes, still breathing, but apart from that devoid of any signs of life. Like marionettes carelessly discarded after a pantomime, nothing but empty shells. At the top of the mountain to the west of town, it was said a group of monks dwelt, guarding an ancient weapon that was rumoured to have the power to contain the soul of a person after their body had died. The only such artefact Sanzo had heard of was the Urn of Ch’in Shu Pao, but up until then he’d believed it a bullshit legend made up to scare travellers away from sacred places. Unsurprisingly, Goku had been rapt by the tale and asked the innkeeper to go on. When some of the townsfolk had gone up the mountain to ask the monks for guidance about the strange phenomena, only one of them had returned - badly wounded, almost insane, babbling about a youkai witch who had killed the others and stolen their souls. Sanzo had snorted, finished his drink, risen from his seat and paused briefly for Goku to catch up with him, before turning in for the night. But the next day he’d awakened to an empty bed - which was unusual in itself; Goku never rousted unless yelled at or poked hard in the ribs. Sanzo had walked downstairs to find Hakkai, Gojyo and Goku preparing to head up to the temple. With Hakuryuu on their side - traitorous creature he was - there had been little choice but to go along with their stupid, tedious mission. The journey was already setback enough and Sanzo hadn’t fancied walking the rest of the way to India. Well, at least now one thing was confirmed for him: the urn was real, and it worked. Shit, and he’d written it off as folklore. Sanzo glared at Goku in his body and grumbled, “Fucking detours.” Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Or rather, Goku’s thumb and forefinger. He grimaced. “If we’d just left the town on schedule like I said, none of this would’ve happened.” “But those people,” Goku piped up. Sanzo didn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at him. He didn’t want to see his own face so anguished. “We couldn’t just leave them there to die!” “You’re too soft,” Sanzo remarked, feeling like he was needlessly stating the obvious. He’d said it a thousand times before. “The lot of you are.” Come to think of it, where were Hakkai and Gojyo? Actually, if they found out about this… Sanzo dreaded to think what the kappa would have Goku do while in possession of the monk’s body. “There’s nothing soft in wanting to help people.” There was a little defiance beneath Goku’s words, though in Sanzo’s naturally sardonic voice it came out with a slightly sarcastic edge. “And look where it’s landed us,” he pointed out. Goku’s jaw snapped shut. Sanzo shook his head slowly, then rose again, approaching the other bed. “Get up. We’re going to switch ourselves back.” Goku opened his mouth again to speak - no doubt to protest, judging by the look on his face - but at that moment there was a light knock on the door. “Hello, are you awake? I thought I heard voices,” Hakkai called from the other side of the door. “I’m coming in, please excuse me.” Damnit! If Sanzo had been granted a few more seconds, he would’ve warned Goku not to say anything incriminating, but the door was already opening. He glared down at the monkey - no, monk - silently warning him not to give them away or there would be serious fucking trouble. From the way the monk’s - no, Goku’s - Adam’s apple rose and fell, he was getting the message. Good. One small mercy. “Ah, I’m so glad you’re both awake.” Hakkai smiled. “It was touch and go there for a moment, but I knew with a couple of days of rest you’d be fine.” He stared at Goku as he spoke. “Here you are, Sanzo. I imagine you’ll be wanting these.” Hakkai crossed the floor and held out his hand to Goku. After a little hesitation, Goku carefully reached out and took the new Marlboro packet, flip-lid lighter, and small tin ashtray from Hakkai. He flicked his focus up to Sanzo as if unsure, but then he quickly nodded his head at Hakkai. Hakkai then turned to Sanzo, his smile brightening a great deal. “Oh, Goku. You must be feeling quite hungry by now. I have some stew on the boil downstairs. The innkeeper was kind enough to let me use his kitchen.” Sanzo closed his mouth and swallowed a little too loudly for his liking. A split second later his guts twisted up tight like he’d been punched, and his stomach let out a monstrous growl. He pressed his hand to it, his mouth flooding with saliva. He realised he should say something, but it was impossible forming words at that moment. He was ravenous. Like he’d never been before. Sanzo frowned and tried to focus on the matter at hand. If they were to solve this problem, he would need to know exactly what had happened before the switch. He remembered Hakkai shouting, which meant he must have witnessed the whole thing. “Hakkai,” said Sanzo slowly, trying to force down the wringing hunger. “Tell me what happened.” He stared imploringly at Hakkai, focusing on his face rather than the way his - Goku’s - body felt like it was turning itself inside-out for sustenance. Something in Hakkai’s expression changed then, and Sanzo suddenly remembered what he must be seeing: Goku, staring at him hard, demanding information in a tone Goku would never use. “Uh, I mean us. Sanzo said he wanted to know what happened before you came in.” He looked away carefully. When Hakkai next spoke it was to Goku, not him, and Sanzo had to clench his jaw. Hakkai had no reason to treat him otherwise, but it was fucking irritating. “Well, the urn certainly didn’t like being touched.” Hakkai pursed his mouth briefly. “By the time Gojyo and I caught up with you and Goku, you were both already reaching out to destroy it. We brought you down from the mountain shortly afterwards.” “We both reached for it,” Sanzo echoed. Well, that would explain why their souls had switched rather than just exited their bodies. He recalled the strange floating feeling he’d had before he’d blacked out. Things were making more sense now. “That’s right, Goku. I shouted for you both to take cover, but then the urn exploded in light. The next thing Gojyo and I knew, you and Sanzo were lying on the temple floor.” “And the urn?” Hakkai glanced at Goku quickly. Sanzo realised he had done it again - as Goku, he had spoken out of turn. He wondered if Goku would think of these things, but judging by the surprise on his face, Sanzo doubted it. He pressed on. “Was the urn-” intact, he almost said, then corrected, “okay?” “Yes, it was,” said Hakkai. “Though we didn’t touch it. Not after… Gojyo and I needed to move you quickly. The snow was getting heavier and we had a long trek down the mountain ahead of us.” “I see.” Sanzo rubbed at his chin with his fingertips, then idly traced the new set of his jaw. “Sanzo?” Sanzo looked up, but Hakkai was directing the question at Goku. Fuck, this was going to be a pain in the arse. “What do you suggest we do?” “Uh,” said Goku, and Sanzo winced. Again, Goku silently appealed to him for help, but Sanzo was unable to do anything that wouldn’t give them away. “Leave it for now.” Goku seemed to struggle, no doubt trying to work out the most Sanzoish response. “We - I’ll figure out a way to destroy the urn.” Well, Sanzo supposed it could have been worse. “Right. I’m sure you need some more time to build your strength,” Hakkai replied. “You were out for almost 48 hours.” Sanzo had assumed as much, judging by the state of his body when he’d woken. Goku’s body, that was. Sanzo cleared his throat. “Why don’t-” Sanzo and I- “me and Sanzo go back up to the temple,” he suggested cautiously. “Sanzo, you could use your gun to shoot the urn.” He looked down at Goku at the same time Hakkai did. Sanzo shook his head the barest fraction, indicating for Goku to keep the hell quiet. “Oh, but that’s impossible at the moment, Goku,” Hakkai said, turning to him with an apologetic smile. “The snow turned in to a full-blown blizzard by the time we got back. I’m afraid the mountain pass has closed up. Though it’s already melting,” he added, glancing between them, a soft curiosity rising in his face. “I would think by tomorrow it’ll be clear again.” Tomorrow? Sanzo didn’t welcome the news that he would have to put up with this until then. He caught Goku’s purple eyes; Goku seemed to shy back behind the irises. “I think it’s best you both get at least another day’s rest, before you think about climbing any more mountains, don’t you?” Hakkai turned to leave. Sanzo resisted the urge to utter a frustrated “Che.” A blizzard. Wasn’t that just his luck. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready. Please don’t get into an argument and test your wounds. ” Hakkai closed the door behind him. Sanzo watched himself flop back down on the bed and let out a deep, heartfelt sigh. “Man, I’m so glad that’s over!” Goku groaned. “I didn’t know what to say. Sanzo? What do we do now?” Sanzo scratched his ear, staring up at the swirling, decorative patterns engraved in the ceiling plaster. “For one thing, I don’t want Hakkai or Gojyo knowing about this. You’re to keep out of their way, do you hear me?” He went over to the bed and plucked the cigarette packet Goku was still holding loosely in his hand. He tore open the lid, drawing out a thin white stick. “If what Hakkai said about the blizzard is true, then we have no choice but to wait until the path’s clear again.” Goku hoisted himself up into a sitting position and looked at him, one pale blond eyebrow rising. “Wow, so does that mean we get to live in each other’s bodies for a whole night?” Sanzo scowled. “Don’t sound so bloody happy about it.” He flipped the lighter lid, ignited the flame, and then bent the tip of the cigarette to the heat. Drew in a lungful. Then proceeded to choke out a bitter, cloying cough. Smoke poured out of his mouth, misting the air in front of him. He hacked and tried to draw in breath, but it only seemed to grate his lungs even more. He doubled over. He heard Goku rise and hurry towards him, asking if he was okay, but Sanzo couldn’t find clear oxygen enough to tell him to shut up or not touch him. Trying to resist the urge to throw up, Sanzo had no choice but to wait for the nausea to run its course. Goku slowly leaned in, plucking the squashed cigarette from between Sanzo’s fingers. He crossed back to the other bed and stubbed it out in the ashtray. “Fuck,” Sanzo managed, after he got his breathing under control. “I’m sorry,” said Goku. “My body’s just not used to smoking. Are you okay, Sanzo?” Sanzo clenched his jaw and inwardly cursed. His stomach turned again at the aftertaste of the cigarette, and then a second later as if to counterbalance it let out another rumble. “This can’t get any worse.” “C’mon,” said Goku, in an almost unsympathetic tone. “It’s not so bad. We’ll just have to get used to each other’s habits.” Actually, the monkey sounded more than unsympathetic. He sounded all too enthusiastic. “I don’t want to get to know your habits,” Sanzo said lowly. “I have to suffer enough of them when I’m in my own body.” He stared at Goku hard. He had to crane his neck to do it. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” “I-” Goku began to deny it, but then looked away. “I always wanted to be taller,” he finished softly. Sanzo let out a sigh of absolute exasperation. If he’d had his harisen, he might’ve whacked Goku. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have - there were worse things Goku could’ve said. Come to think of it… Sanzo stepped forward. Worry crossed his - Goku’s - face for a split second and his slanted purple eyes widened, unsure. He leaned back as Sanzo reached towards him. Plucking the fan out of Goku’s sleeve, Sanzo slipped his other hand into Goku’s robe pocket, curling his fingers around the Smith and Wesson. “I’ll take these.” He made sure the safety was on, then hooked his gun under the waistband at the back of his jeans. The fan didn’t quite fit in his pocket and the handle stuck out a little, but it would have to do. Sanzo pulled his white t-shirt down over it and then held out his hand, snapping his thumb and middle finger together. “Sutra.” “Aw!” Goku complained. “Can’t I take care of it for a little while longer?” “No,” Sanzo answered flatly. Goku reluctantly removed the sutra and rolled it up with the utmost care, before handing it over. Sanzo breathed out, feeling a tiny bit more like himself. That was, if he didn’t look up at the blond man towering over him. Damnit to hell and back. “So, what d’ya wanna do now?” Goku asked hopefully. “Preferably go to sleep until tomorrow morning, but knowing you, that’ll be impossible.” “’M not tired any more. I feel really good, actually.” Goku stretched his hands up over his head. “Hey, look at this - my fingers almost touch the ceiling!” “My fingers,” Sanzo corrected irritably, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Goku let his arms drop and smiled at him. “You know, you can do stuff in my body if you want, Sanzo.” “I already told you,” he said slowly. “I don’t want to ‘do stuff’ in your body.” Goku frowned at him. “Well, I’ve got to do stuff in yours.” He glanced around. “Actually, I’ve got to do stuff right now. Be back in a minute!” He crossed the room. For a second Sanzo thought he was planning to walk out. He was damned if Goku was going anywhere without his supervision. “Where do you think you’re going?” Goku glanced over his shoulder and Sanzo idly noted he was in need of a hair cut soon - he’d have to see to that when he was back to normal. “Gotta take a piss,” the monkey said simply, heading into the en-suite. It took a couple of seconds for it to really sink in. Sanzo grated out a string of obscenities, then strode to the bathroom door and stood in front of it with his arms still crossed. He silently dared Goku to be longer than two minutes.
* * *
It was, quite possibly, the coolest thing that had ever happened to Goku. No, screw that - it was definitely the coolest thing. He was in Sanzo’s body. He was Sanzo! And oh, Sanzo was tall, and his limbs were long and elegant but strong and firm. They worked differently from Goku’s own - it was taking some getting used to, this strange new height, weight, and balance. Sanzo was also really hot. Well, the hot issue wasn’t anything new, but it struck Goku yet again as he headed for the toilet and caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink. He would have paused, if it wasn’t for the insistent fullness pressing on his bladder. Sanzo’s bladder. Gah, it was really confusing! But so awesome. Standing at the bowl, he looked down at himself and frowned. It seemed the only way of doing this was to hoist the robe up, then lower his denims. But trying to grab hold of the material proved tricky, since there was so much of it. Once Goku had his arms full of the white linen, he then had to figure out a way of unzipping his fly. Man, how did Sanzo manage it? What about those times when he was desperate to go? In the end, Goku lost patience and pulled Sanzo’s robe up over his head, letting it fall gently to the tiled floor. Much better. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Sanzo’s cock by far, but it was the first time he felt exactly what Sanzo felt when he touched it. Fair enough, he was usually licking it to hardness when it was in this kind of state - Goku enjoyed doing that almost as much as he enjoyed it when Sanzo took him from behind - but he used his hands for that a bit, too. Sanzo’s palms were wider than Goku’s, his fingers longer, thinner, and a little smoother. A million thoughts were spiralling around his head and Goku couldn’t help but let out a quick, delighted laugh as he finished up and headed for the sink. Suddenly, there was a loud, fast hammering on the door, like someone was trying to break it down. Then his own voice rose up, indignant. “What the fuck are you laughing at, monkey?” Oh! Shit, Sanzo must think he was laughing at… “Nothing, I swear!” he quickly called. “I’ll be right out.” As if Sanzo had anything to worry about in that department, Goku thought, his mouth still curled in a grin. He took his time at the sink, running the tap so Sanzo would think he was washing his hands. Instead, Goku peered into the mirror at Sanzo’s face. He rarely saw Sanzo smile, and even then it was more like a reluctant curl to the corners of his mouth that only held for a few precious moments. Goku let the smile come freely and almost barked out another laugh. It was simultaneously the weirdest and most brilliant thing - Sanzo looked amazing like that, his eyes softening with genuine amusement rather than remaining guarded, his lips going all pliant rather than pinching back curses and what he truly wanted to say. Goku only lamented Sanzo didn’t make that face more often. He tilted his head to one side, his blond hair fanning out. It had grown longer than Sanzo usually wore it. Reaching up, Goku ran his fingers through it, tugging on the ends a little, working out light tangles from where he’d rested his head on the pillow. He really liked the feel of Sanzo’s hair at the best of times, but in a body that wasn’t his own it was like touching it for the first time, all silky and thick. Goku then let his fingers wander down the side of Sanzo’s face, to his jaw, his angular chin, then down the smooth, long column of his neck, partially covered in black leather. Guh. Goku swallowed thickly, a stirring pressure curling in his abdomen. He was all too aware of what that feeling meant. It was just too strange to get turned on by his own reflection. He jumped as a second round of hammering on the door pulled him sharply out of his stupor. He realised he’d spent way too long peering in the mirror. Turning off the tap, Goku went back over to the robe, retrieved it, and slipped it over his head. He reluctantly opened the door, to find Sanzo standing just outside, glaring at him. “Sorry, Sanzo, I was just-” Before he could finish his sentence the harisen appeared from nowhere, striking him hard on the shoulder. Sanzo cursed in an undertone, seeming to get even more irate. “Bend down,” he grated. Goku rubbed at his shoulder. “No way! You’re just gonna hit me on the head.” Sanzo glowered. It looked odd seeing himself that pissed off. Everything about his own face was familiar, but totally alien at the same time with an expression on it that could only ever be considered one of Sanzo’s. Hell, Sanzo had practically invented that expression - the weird mixture of seriousness, tiredness, and pending murder. Goku swallowed again, but his time it was nervously. He was considering what he could say to make things better when Hakkai’s voice floated up from the floor below. “Sanzo, Goku, dinner’s ready!” Goku was sure he saw a strange look flit across Sanzo’s face - something like raw, violent desperation. Sanzo was good at guarding himself though, and soon his frown was back and he cleared his throat. Goku started to wonder if he was imagining things. “Great! I’m hungry,” he commented as they headed out. “I’ve missed Hakkai’s cooking.” “Listen to me carefully.” Sanzo spoke in a quiet, hurried tone as they walked along the landing and down a set of wooden stairs. “Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything except eat your meal. Don’t let the kappa wind you up at any point, or he’ll know it’s you and not me.” “What if they ask me questions?” “One-word replies only.” “Gotcha.” They reached the foot of the stairs and entered the bar, to find Gojyo and Hakkai already seated around one of the polished wooden tables. A spread of beef and vegetable stew, freshly baked bread, rice and beer had been laid out. It was amazing! Only once in a blue moon did they experience luxury like this - Goku had to train his face unaffected, wary of Sanzo’s proximity. He almost immediately went to the seat beside Gojyo, but Sanzo nudged him hard in the ribs and he quickly made a beeline for the head of the table. It was weird sitting there and not where he normally did. He watched Sanzo sliding into the seat next to Gojyo, looking none too pleased about it. “Enjoy,” said Hakkai. “You might want to put more salt on it.” Goku almost said thanks and toasted the meal, but he managed to stop himself just in time. He looked down the table at Sanzo, who caught his eye and then slumped in his seat. “Itadakimasu,” Sanzo said blandly. Goku thought he could have put a bit more effort into it, since Hakkai had gone to so much trouble to cook them such a nice meal. Goku was still surveying the monk as Sanzo looked down at his bowl of steaming stew, and this time he knew it wasn’t his imagination - something really strange was happening to Sanzo. His eyes widened like he’d been shocked and he visibly flinched. He then started to lean forward, staring at his food, before stopping and straightening up. All these actions happened in quick, jerky succession, as if Sanzo was inwardly struggling with himself. Goku watched his own features draw into a tight scowl. He eyed Sanzo a while longer, concern nagging in his gut. Something was going on inside Sanzo’s head and Goku was desperate to figure out what. But as always, Sanzo managed to draw down the shutters. Although Goku eventually turned to his meal and tucked in, he remained watchful of his guardian, worried he would miss any unspoken indications, or worse - that something bad would happen to Sanzo.
* * *
It was all Sanzo could do not to shove his face straight into his bowl of stew. He almost did, too, but managed to stop himself just in time. He hated this. Really fucking hated it. Is this how Goku feels all the damn time when he’s around food? Even as Sanzo wondered it, he realised what a stupid question that was. Of course this was how Goku always felt. Only, up until now, Sanzo had no idea just how wrenching the urges were. He allowed his gaze to slide down to where Goku was sitting, eating surprisingly slowly for probably the first time ever. Something twisted in Sanzo’s gut right then, but it wasn’t just the hunger. All the times he’d whacked Goku with the harisen for complaining that he was hungry… Bah, it was ridiculous, really - Goku had been living with this problem for a long time; Sanzo’s sympathy was only a few years too late. He pushed the odd feeling of guilt aside and returned to his dinner. Having to pull every ounce of his willpower together to stop himself using his hands, Sanzo lifted his chopsticks. “You’re awful quiet tonight, monkey,” Gojyo lazily commented from beside him. Then he ruffled Sanzo’s hair. Roughly. “That blow to the head damaged one of the two brain cells you had?” Sanzo found himself trapped between reaching for his gun and concentrating on not inhaling his food. He took a silent, deep breath, ‘I’ll kill you!’ resounding in his head, and “Shut up, kappa!” on his tongue, before he allowed himself the first mind-blowing mouthful of stew. Sanzo thought he’d just found the one thing that could distract him from murderous thoughts about the hanyou. He tried not to groan as the first bite of food became the second, before he’d even managed to swallow. Even as he went through the motions of… well, it could only be described as ‘shovelling’, not eating - he was unable to slow down. Stopping would’ve been near impossible; it was as if his limbs were on autopilot. For a moment Sanzo entertained the absurd notion that the food was consuming him, not the other way around. He only vaguely heard Hakkai addressing him from across the table. “Don’t worry, Goku.” As he spoke, the other man dabbed a napkin over a spot of sauce that had been spilled on the table top. “It won’t be long before the snow clears.” Sanzo sucked back another incredible chunk of beef and nodded once. He was unable to take his eyes off his bowl. Hell, a stampede of berserk youkai could’ve rampaged through the inn at that moment, and Sanzo wasn’t entirely sure if he’d be able to act straight away. The next voice to puncture his food-induced haze was his own. Or rather, Goku’s. Sanzo glanced at him, wishing he was closer so he could kick Goku in the shin to shut him up. “I can’t eat another bite,” Goku commented slowly, mild wonder lacing his tone. He stared down at his bowl as if it was an alien thing, and the few bean sprouts and carrots floating in the broth were even stranger still. It must be a novelty for Goku to be full this early on during a meal, Sanzo mused. Normally, he would be on his third, or possibly fourth helping by now. “I’m glad you liked it, Sanzo.” Hakkai nodded at him, obviously pleased and a little surprised. “It’s good to see you with more of an appetite. I suppose two days unconscious is finally catching up with you.” Don’t remind me, thought Sanzo, glaring at his own empty bowl. He wanted seconds. He needed seconds. Then he figured: fuck it, he was in Goku’s body; going for more wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary to Hakkai and Gojyo. “Looks like two days unconscious has cured our precious Sanzo-sama of his bad mood,” said Gojyo in his slow drawl, and Sanzo froze in the midst of reaching for the ladle. He knew he wasn’t being addressed, though, and forced himself to continue, scooping out another portion for himself. As he resettled, he heard Goku finally answer in a low tone. “… I’ll kill you.” Sanzo briefly wondered when they’d got so fucking predictable. He shook his head and started on his seconds, finding himself painfully torn between the desire for more of Hakkai’s stew, and desperation for the afternoon to end as quickly as possible. As soon as he’d emptied the stew pot, and after futilely looking around the table in case he’d missed any - while trying not to be too obvious about it - Sanzo cleared his throat loudly, trying to get Goku’s attention. It worked, but the monkey only looked back at him with a frown. Sanzo rolled his eyes in the direction of the stairs to indicate it was time to go, but Goku didn’t get it at first. After a few more exasperated and decidedly pointed looks from Sanzo, it eventually hit Goku that for Sanzo to rise, he would have to get up first. “We’re- I’m going back to my room,” Goku announced. Casting one last, longing look at the empty plates and bowls, Sanzo finally stood up from his seat. “Thanks for the food,” he threw in the direction of Hakkai, before swiftly crossing the bar towards the stairs. Although he couldn’t say he was full by any means, the ache in his gut had subsided to a vague pang. Sanzo was glad to reach the top of the stairs, away from the distracting smells and lingering aftertastes, plus the added hassle of keeping up the pretence in front of the others. Goku was waiting for him on the top step. “Well, that went okay,” he said cheerfully. “Sanzo, did you see? I only had one helping. One!” “I saw.” Sanzo led them to their room, shutting the door firmly behind them. He leaned against the wood, closing his eyes. Only a few more hours of this, then he could go to sleep, wake up tomorrow and find that cursed urn. Once everything was back to normal they could get a freaking move on - he was sick of this place, sick of all the hold-ups and setbacks that just seemed to rain down upon him. Goku let out a loud breath and shoved his hands in Sanzo’s robe pockets, looking at him expectantly. “So, what now?” “What do you mean, ‘what now’?” Sanzo pushed away from the door and went over to the bed. The packet of cigarettes were still sitting on the mattress, though as Sanzo stared at them he realised with something akin to shock that he didn’t so much crave to smoke, but did crave the familiarity of just holding a stick between his fingers. Odd. “Uh.” Goku stepped up behind him. “D’ya think you could… not. Smoke, I mean. In uh… my body?” “I wasn’t going to,” Sanzo replied quietly. His head was starting to hurt again, too many nagging thoughts whirling around it. He glanced out of the window, at the weak winter sun as it slipped down behind the high rise of the mountain, steadily sweeping them into evening. He sensed Goku had moved closer, heard the faint swish of robes across the floorboards, but Sanzo was not expecting to feel arms wrapping around his shoulders, nor the press of a firm, larger body against his back. “What the hell are you doing?” He turned to glare up at Goku, his eyebrows dipping. “Nothing.” Goku looked down at him, his hands still resting lightly on Sanzo’s shoulders. “I was just gonna… I just wanted to touch you.” Sanzo couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re not touching me, idiot. You’re touching yourself.” Goku shook his head slowly, staring at him levelly, and if Sanzo had been taller he would’ve clipped him around the ear. “No, I want to touch you, Sanzo. You’re in my body, but it’s still you.” He squeezed Sanzo’s shoulder a little, the pressure of his fingers tightening minimally. “I can see you in there.” “Shut up,” Sanzo gritted. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?” He pushed Goku’s hands off, turned, and strode over to stand beside the window. He might not be able to smoke, but he was sure as hell going to stare out the window with minimal trouble. All night, if it meant not having to think too much about the utter shambles their situation had become. The thing was, ‘trouble’ and ‘Goku’ tended to always come in the same package. “I don’t care if it sounds stupid, it doesn’t matter.” Goku followed him over. Sanzo should’ve expected it, really - Goku was, if nothing else, persistent. “It shouldn’t matter what we look like.” “What nonsense are you spouting now?” Sanzo wasn’t in the mood for this. He was already starting to feel a twinge of that earlier hunger again. Goku rounded to stand in front of him, blocking his view out the window. Sanzo found himself face to face with a bamboo breast plate. One he’d worn for years and years. His ire welled. “See, you’re making that face. If you look at me, I’m making a face I always make, too.” Sanzo didn’t need to look up to know that. He could hear it in Goku’s words, the ever-present openness, the wonder, the hints of mirth. It was there behind the tone of his own voice. Wholly Goku in its delivery. Sanzo let out a sigh. “C’mon, Sanzo.” Long, pale fingers pressed beneath Sanzo’s chin, tilting his head up. “Why does it matter what we look like? You always told me not to judge things by appearance alone. What was it you said… ‘don’t take everything at face value’? Well, that’s true for this, too.” Cheeky little bastard, turning things he had said in the past around on him. Trust Goku to see things in their most simple form. You are you and I am me. Nothing will change who we are. Sometimes Sanzo felt like Goku was gravitating towards Buddhist teachings more and more each day, while he himself allowed them to seep away like water through his fingers. He shook his head slightly, wondering if he had the energy to fight this battle. No, he really didn’t. Sanzo tensed as Goku brashly lifted his chin again, only this time Goku leaned down at the same time. “Sanzo…” he whispered, his breath hot and sweet from the stew, feathering against Sanzo’s mouth. His lips were smooth and the kiss was cautious at first; Goku showed a surprising level of restraint, seeming to savour it rather than devour it like he usually did. Yet the kiss was still very much him, in the movement and the pressure and natural underlying taste of him - an inexplicable earthiness that Goku couldn’t shake even when in someone else’s body. Touch was and always had been something Goku revelled in and gave freely. He was the most tactile person Sanzo had ever known, and likely ever would. Even before the transition from guardian and charge to… what they were now, Goku had never held back or shied from any kind of physical contact with Sanzo. On the flip side, Sanzo disliked anyone invading his personal space. He didn’t like to be crowded, didn’t like hands on him, not ever since he was young and had come down from Keiun Temple to search for the Seiten sutra. Life on the mountain had cured him of any shred of physical need, obliterated the strains of pleasurable touch in his memory - of times sitting on Koumyou’s knee when he was small, his mentor stroking his hair lightly with gentle but powerful fingers as he told Sanzo stories. It had all blown apart like dry winter leaves the moment the first bandits had jumped him. The moment the blind terror had seeped irrevocably into his bones. Ironically, Goku’s was the only touch Sanzo would allow. The only touch he could stand. Not for the first time did Sanzo damn the monkey for crawling under his skin over the years and taking up residence. He almost let out a sardonic laugh at the absurdity of that thought, given the current situation. Goku opened his mouth a little, the kiss deepening exponentially. Unable to look at the pale of Goku’s skin and purple of his eyes any longer, Sanzo allowed his eyelids to close, submerging himself in his other senses. Feelings ran differently beneath his skin now - under Goku’s skin. It was intense; waves of heat moved out from the points where they were connected - Goku’s mouth on his, Goku’s finger still pressed under his chin. Everything was heightened, as if Sanzo’s soul had been amalgamated with Goku’s body so fast and hard that every touch, every small nuance was magnified ten-fold. Sanzo wondered if this was what Goku experienced every time he was touched. But something about that didn’t seem right to him. When he thought about it, Sanzo wasn’t so sure it was just being in Goku’s body that made him respond so strongly to the touch, the closeness. Is this really that different to how you usually feel? said an annoying part of his brain. Shut the fuck up, Sanzo thought at volume, right before Goku moaned softly into his mouth and pressed closer.
* * *
Having to lean down rather than rise up on tiptoe to reach Sanzo’s mouth was simultaneously a treat and really strange. Goku couldn’t fully understand Sanzo’s hesitation, if it was just about their bodies. Although, Sanzo hadn’t seemed so happy to be in Goku’s body right from the start. But even so, they were still them - to Goku, there was no mistaking Sanzo was still Sanzo. It was just the wrapping that was different. Goku smiled a little against Sanzo’s mouth and licked a swift wet trail along his lower lip. He tasted nice. Not entirely familiar, but Goku could still make out Sanzo’s uniqueness in the way he kissed, the way he resisted, then relented, then allowed Goku to take what he needed, and then finally began to take what he wanted, too. Just knowing Sanzo was feeling his tongue, giving Goku permission to kiss him so deeply while they were switched, sent a delightful thrill of arousal through him. But then, kissing Sanzo always did. It made him hunger for more. Always. “I want you,” he panted as he broke away. “Demanding thing,” Sanzo murmured, frowning a little. He opened his eyes - large, brown eyes, staring at Goku hard. Sanzo hesitated. “I know it’s a bit weird,” Goku began. “A bit?” Sanzo echoed incredulously. “Okay, a lot. But at the same time it’s not weird.” Goku floundered, trying to articulate. “‘Cause we know everything about each other anyway.” “What kind of logic is that?” Sanzo reached up and tapped Goku’s forehead with his index finger. “Let me show you.” Goku caught Sanzo’s arm as he lowered it and tugged, pulling Sanzo with him as he circled around the edge of the bed. He hoisted the robes up over his head for the second time that day, but when he dropped them on the floor this time, he had no intention of putting them back on. Sanzo’s frown deepened and he sank down onto the bed, and in answer Goku let his shoulders slump and went over, kneeling at Sanzo’s feet. He had often seated himself like this in the past, usually when Sanzo was reading the newspaper, although now he was almost on a level with Sanzo, who still had the higher ground. He gazed at Sanzo’s face. It was weird, but the longer Sanzo remained in his body, the more his features seemed to fit around Sanzo’s expressions. Goku quite liked how Sanzo could pinch the corners of his mouth and make him look proud, serious, and intelligent. It was a look he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to pull off himself. Though Goku was determined to try. He lowered his eyebrows, crinkled his forehead, hardened his jaw, narrowed his eyes, and clenched his teeth. “Idiot monkey,” he said, grating the words out rather than speaking them. Sanzo looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. Goku suddenly let go of the expression, his face falling back into a relaxed state. He smiled a little. “See, I’m back.” Something in Sanzo’s straight-backed posture gave out. He stared back at Goku for a long time in silence, a glimmer of amusement lurking behind his stoicism, just breaking through like the first rays of sun in the morning. After a while Sanzo’s focus shifted, his eyes narrowing, as if he was starting to look at something deeper - something inside Goku. Goku’s skin tingled under the unusual scrutiny, and he wondered if he should say something, ask Sanzo if he was okay. Before he could, to Goku’s surprise - and if he admitted it, worry - Sanzo let out something that resembled a laugh, just a quick burst, part hilarity, part disbelief. “Insufferable, persistent, frustrating, idiotic-” he began, and Goku grinned, rising up onto his knees so he could kiss Sanzo before he could finish. Goku knew what came next anyway. The next thing he felt was Sanzo’s hands on him, curling around his sides to settle at the base of his spine. Goku wanted to arch forward, but at the same time he wanted to lean back against the touch. A mix of relief and heated want washed through him, as it always did when he was in close proximity to Sanzo. Goku equated that want now to the hunger he felt when he was in his regular body - always there, surging within him like a gravitational pull. Now it began to grow like a tide pushing against a shore, tightening in his gut, and lower down - filling his cock. He pushed his tongue into Sanzo’s mouth to taste him, taste the brand new flavour of him. Although there was no underlying smokiness, the warmth of his mouth and movement of his tongue was the same as always. Goku shifted a little closer, scooting more snugly between Sanzo’s legs. He nudged his groin against Sanzo’s and started rotating his hips, adding pressure bit by bit, rubbing himself until he was rock-hard. Sanzo made an uncomfortable noise at the back of his throat, which Goku took to mean he had just realised what the hardness was surging between their bodies. Goku broke away for a second to mutter, “Don’t think about it. It’s just me.” He didn’t want Sanzo to let him go. He didn’t want any part of this to end. Their private moments were few and far between as it was, what with being on the move all the time, and not just that - being on the road with two other people. Goku was determined to make the most of what he could, when he could. He licked the corner of Sanzo’s mouth, then ran his tongue down to his jaw line. Goku was used to this shape - it was his own, after all - but he’d never been able to explore it from this angle before. He marvelled at the difference in texture of their skin - where Sanzo’s was rougher with light, almost invisible stubble, his was much smoother. He dipped his head, drawing a wet line down Sanzo’s neck with his tongue, stopping to lick across the beat of Sanzo’s pulse beneath the thin flesh. Goku smiled against it and pulled back, staring wondrously at Sanzo. “Can I… I mean, can we…?” He carefully reached for the hem of his old, cotton t-shirt, tugging on it. Goku waited hopefully. “Aren’t you even a little bit interested?” For a moment Sanzo simply stared at him, and Goku thought he was going to say no, or worse - push him away. “Wipe that pitiful look off your face,” Sanzo finally said, letting out a sigh and raising his arms. Goku seized the opportunity before it was snatched away from him and slipped the t-shirt up over Sanzo’s head, his brown spikes standing up even more as the static popped and fizzed in the t-shirt’s wake. Goku let it fall to the bed behind them, then ran his pale fingers down over Sanzo’s tanned shoulders, down to the plane of his chest. He noticed a tick in Sanzo’s jaw, but the monk didn’t tell him to stop. Goku drew his lower lip behind his teeth, then divested himself of his leather undergarment. Sanzo’s gaze wandered down the cut of his chest, ribs, then back up. He looked unimpressed. Goku supposed he’d seen himself naked enough times for it to not really startle him. Whereas Goku found himself diving into the scenario with an unquenchable curiosity, wanting to know how things felt on Sanzo’s side, wanting to see exactly what Sanzo saw when they touched each other. It was getting too hot and way too tight inside his denims, so Goku released the top button and drew down the zip. His erect cock rose up out of the rough, parted fabric - Sanzo’s thick, flushed cock - and he let out a grateful breath, glancing up to find Sanzo watching him carefully. Now freed, Goku was desperate to feel Sanzo’s hands on him. He rose to his feet and shrugged his hips out of the jeans, then let them fall the length of his long, slender legs, stepping out. Sanzo remained where he was on the edge of the bed, still, quiet, betraying nothing. The gold diadem obscured the set of his eyes from Goku’s vantage point. Although he could no longer read Sanzo’s mood, somehow Goku thought it was too late to worry about that. Naked, dizzy from Sanzo’s kisses, and growing more aroused by the millisecond, Goku got onto the bed, settling down behind Sanzo and lying straight. He reached out, stroking his fingertips against Sanzo’s shoulder, then down the sinewy curve his sun-browned arms. “Sanzo?” he said quietly. “I know you’re really pissed off about this, and please don’t hit me with the harisen. But I’m. I’m really glad I got the chance to see out of your eyes. Even if it’s just for a few hours.” In the quiet, Goku could hear Sanzo’s breathing. It couldn’t be considered heavy, but it definitely wasn’t measured, either. After a long moment of excruciating silence, Sanzo turned to him. “It’s not like I had any choice.” He didn’t sound angry, much to Goku’s relief. More like resigned. Goku blew out a breath at the same time Sanzo shifted. The bedsprings creaked very faintly under their weight as Sanzo moved, and Goku’s natural reflexes kicked in: he opened his arms, pulling Sanzo against him. The shape was different to what he was used to, but Sanzo was still solid and hot and masculine and everything Goku liked about Sanzo’s own body. He sighed against Sanzo’s ear and then tilted his head until he located Sanzo’s mouth, kissing, licking, nibbling on his lips. “Please,” he breathed between bites. “’M so hard.” Sanzo made a throaty, low noise; not as low and gruff as Goku expected, but the meaning injected into it was the same. As Sanzo moved against him, Goku grew aware of the hard cock pushing down on his. At that moment, it seemed like everything sank below his hips, all the blood in him flushing to his cock and throbbing there with violent want. He moaned against the side of Sanzo’s face. Short brown hair tickled under his nose. “This is awesome,” Goku mumbled. “Shut up,” Sanzo murmured, pressing down against his body slowly, as if he was testing the water before diving in. Goku pulled at the fraying trousers wrapped snugly around Sanzo’s narrow hips, and after a little hassle he managed to get them undone. Sanzo removed them the rest of the way, and the next time he lowered himself on top of Goku, it was just skin, hot, damp limbs covering him. “Ohh… that’s… really weird. Mm, I like it.” Sanzo’s answering huff ruffled the blond hair at Goku’s neck. He shifted his legs apart so Sanzo could press his knee between them. As Sanzo raised his knee, nudging it against Goku’s taut and aching balls, Goku was unable to hold back a rich, low groan. It burst forth in Sanzo’s voice, and Goku thought he would come right then. He clenched his teeth, the sound repeating over and over in his head, and thrust up against Sanzo’s slighter body. There was a hiss close to Goku’s ear. Sanzo’s dick was now rigid, rubbing against Goku’s as they rutted gently on the bed. “More, please, more.” “Hush,” Sanzo warned, but there was no ire behind it. He lifted himself up and stared down at Goku, a light frown gracing his forehead. Goku was sure he was grinning hopelessly, but he couldn’t help it. Everything felt so good, the phenomenal touches, the addictive kisses - feeling it all in Sanzo’s skin like it was the first time. “Wait here,” Sanzo instructed, rising off Goku and getting to his feet. “Don’t you dare move.” He crossed the room, through to the en-suite. Goku couldn’t help but follow the minimal sway of Sanzo’s walk, familiar and a little arrogant. He knew he could never make his own body do that - move fast, and yet make it look like he was strolling at the same time. Stroking his cock lightly within the loose circle of his fist, Goku kept watch of the doorway, then shifted his hold, running one leather sleeve gently up the length of his shaft. He had to stifle a groan at the sensation, the heated leather catching on his sensitive skin. He smiled, letting his head drop back against the puffy hotel pillows, blond hair spilling over his forehead, obscuring his eyes a little. He loved being in Sanzo’s body. When Sanzo returned, he was carrying a small pot that Goku recognised. It was the gun oil he sometimes applied to his Smith and Wesson, only, over the months they had discovered another handy use for it. Sanzo uncorked the lid and set the pot down on the bedside table. The second the pot clicked against wood it was like a switch had been flipped. Goku’s body seemed to thrum with anticipation and something much fiercer, something deeply embedded in him - the basest, rawest want for Sanzo. He reached for the monk, pulling him back down and tangling his legs with Sanzo’s shorter, muscular thighs. “No rushing,” Sanzo breathed against his mouth. Of course - technically this would be Goku’s first time. Again. At least, it would be this body’s first time. He nodded quickly, more interested in catching Sanzo’s mouth for another kiss. He couldn’t believe that he had not only been given the opportunity to lose his virginity to Sanzo once, but now he was going to experience it a second time. As Sanzo stroked his fingers down over Goku’s chest, thumbing the indents of his ribs, then the softer curve of his stomach, Goku squirmed. Sanzo’s fingernails were short and jagged from where Goku had chewed on them, and they caught on his skin, a faint scratch that tore half-formed moans from him. He let his body relax fully and shifted his legs to give Sanzo better access to him; he was panting now, at the thought of what they were about to do. Like with the very first time, Sanzo was patient and careful. Goku had no idea how Sanzo reined in his feelings, how he controlled the natural urge to rut and fuck and take what he wanted. He wriggled on the mattress as Sanzo continued to touch him, smoothing his fingertips over Goku’s thighs, down into the heat below his full balls, then back up again, like he had all the time in the world. “Oh, that feels so…” He arched up against Sanzo’s touch, sucking in an impatient breath. “Sanzo.” Sanzo tutted and straightened up, surveying Goku with an intense look that was momentarily hard to gauge. Panic rose in him then - he wondered if he’d done something wrong. Maybe he’d pushed too much. “I told you to be patient.” Sanzo moved swiftly, straddling Goku and taking his wrists in a firm grip. He leaned forward, raising Goku’s long arms above his head. Goku wondered what was going on; he felt Sanzo tugging on the leather sleeves, rolling them all the way down his arms and then twisting the thick material around his hands. Sanzo pulled the leather rigid, and as Goku raised his chin and looked up, he realised what Sanzo was doing. He was securing the sleeves to the headboard. A shock of arousal roiled through Goku and he let out a tremulous gasp, his arm muscles jumping beneath his skin. Sanzo looked down at him, his mouth parted, wide brown eyes deadly serious. “No rushing,” he repeated. “I promise.” Even as he whispered it, Goku had to resist craning his neck to slide his tongue into Sanzo’s mouth, resist the urge to beg Sanzo to hurry and sink his cock into him. He let his arms relax, the bonds pulling taut, and then closed his eyes, welcoming the distraction as Sanzo returned to his task. Drawing firm circles over Goku’s thighs, Sanzo slowly massaged him into a boneless state of bliss, preparing him for the next stage. Goku pulled his lower lip behind his teeth and bit down, no longer concerned about marking Sanzo’s body. It was that or break his promise to keep quiet and not rush. Sanzo reached out, plucking the pot of gun oil from the bedside table. The next thing Goku knew, the tip of one slicked, cool finger was pushing against him, right at the centre of him. He canted his hips down to ease Sanzo’s passage, opening himself and making it clear he could take more. He wanted so much more. At the same time he didn’t want to cause Sanzo’s body any unnecessary discomfort, so Goku tried switching his focus to the binding stretch of his arms and shoulders, the feeling of being suspended between the headboard and Sanzo’s exceptional touch. He looked down the length of his body, meeting Sanzo’s eyes. The intent behind the brown irises was unmistakable - it was a look Goku had seen before, during these moments. The only difference was that before, the look had been glazed behind deep, burning purple. He drew in short gasps now, his cock leaking at the tip, smearing pre-come over the milk-white skin of his abdomen as it bobbed against him in time to the light thrust of his lower body. Sanzo finger fucked him for what felt like an age, perfect, drawn-out strokes up inside him, before he added a second digit and began all over again. It was going to undo Goku before they’d even started at this rate; he was wet with sweat, buzzing with anticipation, head swimming with all the cries and curses he couldn’t yet utter out loud. He concentrated on his breathing for as long as possible, letting the friction inside him ease his muscles further open until he was wide. “I’m ready - I.” He made a frustrated noise in his throat, too far gone to think clearly. “Sanzo…” He was going to beg if Sanzo didn’t… if he didn’t soon… Sanzo’s eyes were closed, as if he couldn’t quite come to terms with what he was seeing. Goku squirmed onto his fingers more forcefully, trying to draw Sanzo deeper. As Sanzo withdrew, he knocked the pot of oil off the bed. Goku was vaguely aware of it hitting the floorboards and rolling across the room. Bracing one arm on the bed beside Goku’s hip, Sanzo brought the other to his lap and curved his hand around his cock, slicking it with the remainder of the oil. He drew his fist up his darkened shaft once, then smoothed back down to the root, hissing out a breath. Goku looked at the flushed head, licked his lips, realising this was it. He raised his legs, bending his knees and setting his feet on the mattress. He wanted Sanzo to take him completely on first thrust. He watched Sanzo’s face as he leaned over, angled himself, and nudged forward. Goku urged Sanzo in, raising his hips up higher. He felt some give, a stinging, as he was stretched by a hard cock, much thicker than fingers. There was blazing heat and the unbelievable feeling of being filled at a slow, excruciating pace. The length and width of his own cock felt so different from Sanzo’s, but it was no less amazing, igniting his nerve endings in an outward spiral from the point where Sanzo penetrated him. Once balls deep, Sanzo took a few pounding seconds to pause, and then he started to move. Goku had no choice but to soak up everything Sanzo gave him, riding against Sanzo’s thrusts as best he could while attached to the head of the bed. He muttered nonsensical encouragements that started rolling into blunt demands. Through his own grunts of approval and groans of more, oh yes, more, he heard Sanzo shushing him, but he couldn’t stop the stream of babble, couldn’t stop it flitting across his lips in Sanzo’s deep, sonorous voice. As Sanzo took him slow and hard, Goku’s eyes rolled back and he let the bliss sweetly drown him.
* * *
Sanzo was unable to look any more, so he used touch to guide himself. He was all too aware of the weirdness of the situation - that he was, essentially, fucking himse- no. He would not think of it like that, because at the root of everything he also knew that it was Goku in there; that only Goku could make those kinds of noises issue forth from his mouth. They were sounds Sanzo never made - the pleading, the unguarded declarations. As he eased himself into the tightest, brain-numbing heat, he recalled experiencing something like this the first time he’d had sex with Goku. When everything had been new and unfamiliar territory, every movement a current as fierce as an explosion inside him, equal parts pleasurable and terrifying. He couldn’t deny it was fucking incredible feeling a new kind of clench around his shaft, the body he rode against much heavier, longer than Goku’s own. He rocked his hips until he was seated balls-deep inside Goku. Then the only sounds he was aware of were the thunderous beat of his pulse in his ears, and Goku’s ragged, shaking groans underlying it. Sanzo had to pause, his length twitching within the heady confines. Sweat slid in slow rivulets down his chest and stomach and dripped onto Goku’s skin beneath him, testament to the care he’d taken to prepare for this, so as not to damage Goku - or his own body. “Sanzo,” breathed Goku, barely a whisper. Sanzo had never heard his own voice so rough, so open. Sanzo took a silent, deep breath and dared to look. There he was, sprawled across the bed, wet and shuddering and panting quickly, gaze clouded with a desperate kind of neediness. He looked drugged, utterly wanton. Although the face he saw was his own, everything about it in that moment belonged to Goku. Sanzo drew out, then thrust up against Goku’s arse, sinking back in deep, gripping Goku’s hips to steady and centre his movements. Goku barked out a cry, the sound rumbling loud and broken at the end. Sanzo looked past the shell of the monk and locked his eyes on Goku as he fucked him, keeping him pinned there beneath him, which only seemed to extract more helpless moans from the monkey - no doubt he was feeling every ounce of intent behind Sanzo’s gaze. “You… see me,” Goku gasped. “I know… you do.” Sanzo jerked his hips harder as his arousal started to careen out of control, the fluttering clench of Goku’s muscles around his length growing tighter, impossibly tighter, and drawing more intense, rippling tides of heat straight down his spine and into his balls. He no longer cared to go slow, and forsaking his own body’s comfort, he surrendered to his fall, rolling his hips in unending, hard circles. He could not suppress a curse, breathed out in Goku’s soft tenor. Sanzo drew Goku’s long, pale legs up around his hips, leaning over for a deeper slide. Settling his weight on top of Goku’s larger body, he rotated his hips over and over, driving Goku down against the mattress with an unforgiving chain of thrusts. The irrational thought that he’d be swallowed whole if he continued didn’t deter him - he swore hot and loud against Goku’s flushed skin, consumed slowly, wonderfully by Goku’s open need. His own. Sanzo absorbed the rumbling moans vibrating through Goku’s chest and throat. He pressed his mouth against Goku’s collarbone and bit down there. A spurt of hot pre-come sailed up his skin right then; Sanzo felt the slick pulse of Goku’s cock brushing his stomach as he continued to grind against him. The bed frame whined under the strain of the leather sleeves, with Goku using his powerful arms to pull on them. No doubt they would have to be thrown away by morning, but Sanzo didn’t care. “Ohh, Sanzo, you feel so good... Oh, mmm… I’m… I’m gonna…” It was only seconds later that more wetness spread between their bodies in fierce bursts. Goku went rigid, quieting suddenly, as if he’d been frozen in time. Sanzo rode out Goku’s release all the harder, pumping his hips now, only vaguely aware of the torrential groans next to his ear. He couldn’t stop moving, his orgasm curling and unfolding in his balls, winding beneath his skin like an unquenchable beast. He thought he might be on fire; he thought he might be drowning. He revelled in the twist of searing shivers that headed south, snaking the entire length of his body. Goku let out a long, low, heartfelt moan, his cock still moving through the last few jolts of his release. Sanzo found their skin sliding more easily now, smoothing him towards the brink. He was about to hit what he was so desperately chasing - if he didn’t stop, he thought he might black-out. Their hipbones aligned as he sank in roughly and choked out a ragged “Fuck!” and let go. The steady twitch of Goku’s muscles milked the orgasm straight out of Sanzo, drew him free, and in a blinding crash he embraced the wrenching pleasure, let it spin him off axis. Sanzo gritted his teeth, burst after burst after fucking intense burst wiping him out momentarily. An undetermined time later, he was able to draw in a clear, deep lungful of air. His body now moved through the smoother, gentler ripples of aftershock, the pressure finally ebbing, leaving nothing but a hazy kind of ecstasy behind. As Sanzo came back down and regained his senses, he thrust one arm up and picked at the knotted leather sleeves, releasing Goku’s bound wrists. Other than that, Sanzo was in no mind to move just yet, and didn’t particularly want to, for that matter. Goku hummed softly into his hair, seeming content to lie there in a shivering heap, and Sanzo wasn’t about to oppose the idea. It was strange, but beneath him, his own body was oddly comfortable in their current position. Sanzo almost entertained the notion that they fit together well, but then he snorted at himself for having such ridiculous thoughts. It was the sex, that was all - the sex made him think stupid things. Hands now free, Goku traced circles over Sanzo’s back with his fingertips, running them up to his shoulder blades, then slowly back down to the base of his spine. When Sanzo was able to raise his head, Goku was staring at him with a wholly dopey expression. He looked soft and sated, like he was drunk, and Sanzo rolled his eyes. “Happy now?” “Mmm, more than.” “Che. I can’t believe I just did that.” “Mmm. Was great.” “Oh, shut up.” Sanzo carefully pulled out of Goku, pushing himself up only to find his arms unsteady. Foregoing a trip to the bathroom to clean up, he settled on the bed beside Goku, his stomach slick with come and his hair wet with sweat. He needed a wash. Soon. Later, he amended, as Goku turned towards him and slung his arm over Sanzo’s waist. “Only a few more hours to go. I won’t forget this.” Goku seemed to mould himself around Sanzo’s side, his taller frame slotting into place almost perfectly. Sanzo felt Goku’s breath ruffling through his hair. He closed his eyes. “Sanzo?” “What?” “Can we stay like this, just for tonight?” Although he didn’t find the dampness of the sheets nor the mess rapidly cooling on his stomach particularly comfortable, all in all, Sanzo was too exhausted to get into a dispute about sleeping arrangements. After a moment, taking his silence as an affirmation, Goku nudged his chin against Sanzo’s shoulder. He fidgeted a little to get more comfy. “It’s not like I have a choice,” Sanzo finally said, repeating his earlier statement. He couldn’t remember finding Goku’s wrist with his hand and curling his fingers around it, but by the time he realised, it was too late to draw it back. As they lay together in bed, Sanzo became aware of Goku’s breathing, slowing down and gradually evening out. Typical of the monkey; he was always able to drop right off afterwards. Sanzo stared out of the window, at the darkness beyond and the barest glow of light from a hidden moon somewhere far off. It had grown late, and although he was relaxed, the earlier aches were seeping back into his limbs. Hours later, when sleep finally found him, Sanzo thought that all in all, it wasn’t a bad feeling. In absolute truth, he hadn’t felt so alive in a long time.
* * *
The mountain slope seemed steeper than Sanzo remembered it, though he had a feeling that was because the injuries he’d sustained recently were hampering the climb. Once he’d reached the top and caught his breath, he stared at the small and silent temple. Goku stood next to him, panting heavily. Sanzo’s body wasn’t as fit and well-nourished as Goku’s, although the monk didn’t have time to let it bother him. The quiet, unassuming little temple in front of them was where the trouble had started. It would be where the trouble ended, too. Goku seemed to hesitate beside him as Sanzo stepped forward. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Goku.” “I know. I’m coming.” Sanzo’s robes hung strangely on Goku’s hunched frame, as he ambled to catch up. Sanzo supposed he couldn’t yell at Goku for his reluctance - I always wanted to be taller, echoing in his head - but he couldn’t stall any longer. Hakkai and Gojyo would be waking up in a few hours, and Sanzo planned for things to be back to normal by then. He lead Goku into the temple, their steps growing more cautious as they slipped from the crisp and breezy landscape outside into the musty, warm hall. The place reeked of magic, blood and misuse. There, in the centre of the room, was the plinth, the Urn of Ch’in Shu Pao upon it. It was a crude little pot, with two curving handles growing from its sides, and an ornate carved wooden knob on the top - probably the only attractive thing about it. Sanzo curled his lip and silently cursed the damn thing. “So, how are we gonna do this?” “We reached for it together when we originally switched. We’ll reach for it again.” “What if it knocks us out again? Hakkai and Gojyo aren’t around to help this time.” “That won’t be a problem.” Sanzo drew out his sutra. “This’ll act as a shield and buffet the blast. The second I stop speaking you reach for the urn, understand?” “Okay.” Goku didn’t sound too sure. Truthfully, Sanzo wasn’t all that sure, either. However, they only had one option, and this was it. Sanzo wasn’t willing to wait around any longer - the journey had been delayed enough as it was and there was no way he was going to India to face the source of the Minus Wave as Goku. Standing at the plinth, Sanzo held the sutra on his outstretched palm. Goku was tense beside him, his arm brushing against Sanzo’s shoulder. Sanzo heard him clear his throat. Twice. “Sanzo? Before we do this, I just want to say-” “Spare it,” Sanzo interrupted. “No tearful, heartfelt goodbyes. We’ll still be here right afterwards.” Goku sighed. “I know, but… never mind.” Sanzo glanced up at him, caught his gaze. There was disappointment behind the purple irises. “I know,” he offered sincerely, and left it at that. Goku’s mouth curved into a thankful smile. Sanzo almost frowned at him for making his face look so utterly ridiculous, but he refrained. “Now hush.” It was time for him to steel himself. He focused on breathing deeply and regularly, and cleared his mind. The sutra seemed to thrum in his palm - it was aware, drawing on their bond, anticipating him already. With that, Sanzo began to recite.
* * *
There was pain. Stark, throbbing pain, but nowhere near as intense as before. Sanzo was grateful for that much. He could still hear his own words - the lines from the sutra - rolling around his head, spoken in Goku’s voice, nothing but an echo now. As he regained consciousness the temple reshaped around him. There was cold stone beneath him, and something soft covering his body. He cracked an eye open. The Maten sutra was slowly ravelling back up, reeling itself in. Sanzo’s body tingled like it always did after using the text, and underlying that was a familiar ache. He winced as he sat up sharply and looked around, locating Goku sprawled beside him, still out for the count. Sanzo poked him in the ribs. Then drew his hand back quickly and stared down at his fingers. Long, pale - his own fingers. It’d worked. He poked Goku again, the younger man groaning in discomfort as he dragged himself awake. “How what when?” Goku opened his eyes and squinted. “Huh, Sanzo?” “Yeah. Wake up, idiot. We’re back.” “Back…” Goku rubbed his face with the heels of his hands, and managed to pull himself into a sitting position. “My head hurts again.” “Yeah.” When Goku finally looked up at him, he smiled softly. “Hi.” “Hello,” said Sanzo. “Come on. We’ve got to get back.” “Ugh, okay.” As they rose to their feet, Sanzo spotted the urn. Or rather, what had been the Urn of Ch’in Shu Pao, now three large, separate pieces of clay and a thousand smaller shards surrounding them, dotted across the temple floor. “Looks like we killed two birds with one stone.” He slipped the sutra back into his robe pocket and dusted himself off. Goku stared down at the remains of the urn and nodded. “Yup. No more body switching for us.” He tried to put on a cheerful tone, but Sanzo could see right through it. “Well, should we-” Goku stopped as Sanzo took hold of his shoulders and, pressing one finger beneath his chin, tipped his head up. He leaned down, dusting his mouth against Goku’s for the briefest of moments. “Hmm…” Goku hummed as Sanzo drew back, and then he grinned at Sanzo brilliantly. Sanzo snorted and cuffed him lightly around the head, but Goku didn’t protest, only grinned all the wider. “Hey, I’m hungry. Can we go and eat first? I can’t travel on an empty stomach…” Sanzo rolled his eyes as Goku bounded through the door, leading them out of the temple and into the winter sunlight beyond. He would allow Goku his breakfast. Hell, the monkey could order the whole menu if he wanted. You are you and I am me, and yet we are the same. ~Fin~ |
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