The steel bar between his legs is immovable, linked to him by two thick leather shackles secured steadfast around his ankles. The small chain loops connecting the shackles tinkle like metal windchimes every time he moves his bare knees on the floorboards.
This? This is definitely Gojyo's idea. Fucking has to be; the guy's a perverted bastard.
The short grey pleated skirt, tight white blouse, and calf-length woollen socks, though – they're Goku's doing.
“Oh, these silk panties are nice.” Cool air washes over his skin as the skirt is hitched up. “I like the lace trim. Where did you find them, Goku?”
“Yeah, runt. Is there something you're not telling us?”
“Shut up, cockroach! I nicked 'em off a washin' line.”
“I certainly hope you plan to take them back when we're finished.”
“Yeah, Hakkai, I will. I promise.”
“If they don't get ripped first, man. Heh.”
“You bastards have gone far enough,” grits Sanzo with deliberate slowness. As if the spreader bar and schoolgirl costume aren't bad enough, adding insult to injury is being talked about as if he's not there, as if he's not kneeling in their hotel room with his hands bound behind him by his own cursed leather sleeves – immobile, sweating buckets from the sweltering heat, and just about angry enough to break off some limbs and fatally puncture some body organs as soon as he's free. “Let me go, or I'll kill you all.”
Hell, Sanzo's going to kill them anyway for accosting him. This added insane pantomime is just the cherry on an already ridiculous cake.
The woollen skirt itches his thighs at the back, as does the lace trim of the panties. Panties that are way too small. Panties that are beginning to ride up his crack. Fuck, fuck these assholes – what the hell do they think they're playing at? They know damn well practical jokes aren't appreciated. Or any kind of joke, for that matter.
“I'm sorry, Sanzo,” says Hakkai in his most placating tone. “We can't do that. It's been almost three years since we left Chang'an and we feel it's time to even the scales.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” The spreader bar chain loops ching softly, a stupid sound. Sanzo still cannot turn.
“We're talking about that bitchass fan of yours, man.” Gojyo's accustomed lazy drawl is now bolstered by leering interest. Sanzo's going to maim him. Eventually.
“... yeah.” Goku sounds in half a mind. Good, he'll have half a head when Sanzo's free. “Sorry, Sanzo. 'S just those whacks on th' back of my skull – those hurt!”
“Hakkai, I'm warning you,” he says with clipped patience. “Don't let them go any further with this. Release me. Now.”
“I'm afraid not.”
“I've never fucking hit you with the fan!”
“True,” says Hakkai. “But you see, this way I can ensure you never feel temptation to do so.”
A bead of sweat trundles down the side of Sanzo's face, catching on fine hairs and tickling his skin. Many pairs of feet shift and shuffle over the dusty boards. The pulsing chi barrier Hakkai has placed on Sanzo prevents any major movement, leaving him with only his hearing to distinguish what's going on.
The three of them are moving closer.
Death. Death to them all.
“Shall we begin, then?”
Sanzo senses Hakkai step up behind him and his skin prickles with nervous anticipation. It's a vile sensation and he wishes he could dispel it, but it won't go away, only becomes more pronounced.
“I'll make sure there's minimal discomfort.”
Funny, Sanzo's suddenly finding it impossible to trust a word Hakkai says. Sleeves swish softly and Sanzo's reflexes kick in. He tenses as Hakkai extends a hand toward him; the buzzing warmth of the chi barrier intensifies, shifting like a silk sheet has been draped over him and then slowly tugged back. The chi warps and slides, congregating between Sanzo's shoulder blades. Beneath the cotton blouse, his skin tingles like a rash.
“Hakkai,” he says with forced reason. “Enough of this. Don't do something you'll regret.” An idea strikes him. “You've had enough regret to last a lifetime.”
“True,” Hakkai replies, his breath steady but not at all reassuring. “But this isn't entirely selfish of me. It's for Gojyo and Goku, too. Hush now.”
The muscles in Sanzo's jaw work in dry response to the warning.
Not knowing what's to come has an odd physical effect on him: at once his stomach twists like a wet rag and his balls tighten and harden up. Hakkai's chi begins skidding a line down the centre of Sanzo's back, following the notched stairway of his spine. The energy pauses at Sanzo's tail bone as if it's waiting for the go-ahead from Hakkai, although Sanzo's certain this is Hakkai's way of teasing him, then without warning it trickles like warm butter into the crack of his ass.
“Ah! What the bloodyfuck!”
There's a sharp inhale nearby, followed by a shuddering exhale and the barest hint of a moan. Definitely Goku. The sound is of surprise first and foremost, but there's something darker and depraved behind it – something Goku will dearly pay for exhibiting.
The butter-warm energy starts rising, then falls, rises, then falls, picking up momentum and smoothing up and down in measured strokes between his cheeks. It gradually grows hotter and denser, like it's solidifying into some horrid, living thing. Before long it's like there's a physical object right there, vibrating over Sanzo's quivering hole. The motion's so smooth he finds himself rocking slightly, until he catches himself and stops.
Gritting his teeth so hard he hears the grind in his head, Sanzo clenches every muscle.
“That's not a good idea. I don't want this to be uncomfortable for you.”
“What's he doin'?”
“He's too tense.”
“Heh, lemme see if I can help.” Gojyo's boots clunk across the boards. “I'm often told I got a magic touch for these things.”
“'Magic' touch me and I'll bite your fucking hands off,” Sanzo tells him between set teeth, careful not to relax a single muscle.
“Gosh, you really are acting like a petulant child,” says Hakkai, and Sanzo doesn't need to see him to know he's shaking his head in that school-teacher-is-very-disappointed-in-you way.
“Yeah, Sanzo-sama. Quit your whining. You'll love it, and anyway, it's about time I loosen you up a bit, you tight-assed, sanctimonious bastard.” The kappa is all too fucking smug as he comes into Sanzo's periphery and drops to one knee at his side. There's a quick tug on the hem of the skirt but Sanzo's unable to look down. Instead, he bites out a swear. “That's the spirit, man,” Gojyo adds before he skates his fingertips up under the skirt. Slides them up Sanzo's thigh. Pauses. Then draws them all the way down to Sanzo's knee where he taps a quick rhythm like he's listening to music in his head, something up-beat and hard. Then back up.
The sensation of a wide, hot chi length rubbing his hole wars violently with the slow, deliberate livewires that are Gojyo's fingers. Every skim of those fingers comes one millimetre closer to Sanzo's silk-encased prick, which is now depressingly erect, pushing up taut against the tight panties. Closing his eyes and fighting off a shudder of need, Sanzo attempts reciting a sutra in his head.
On ma ni hatsu – ah, fuck! Mei un!
Gojyo lets out a little snort and gives a little flick of his wrist, then skids the flat of his palm up Sanzo's rigid length. A wave of dizziness passes over Sanzo, like he's been drenched with a bucket of cool water then spun around on the spot, and he barely realises he's just given up purchase of his muscles. It comes as no surprise when Hakkai takes advantage of the opportunity, working his chi length into Sanzo's ass – just a little way – then drawing the thin tip back out.
Is it Sanzo's imagination, or does the thing feel vaguely textured now? It's difficult to tell, to focus on any one thing.
An appreciative hum rains from behind, as if Hakkai can feel the damn thing himself. Sanzo wonders briefly just how connected to his own power Hakkai is, as the chi object pushes in again, thrusting shallowly now, growing a fraction thicker every time it moves, going a fraction farther into him. Things are not supposed to go in there at all, goddamnit.
It's ribbed, he realises. Fucking ribbed but for what reason he doesn't want to know.
“Get that thing the hell out of me,” he manages, between badly suppressed groans that tear his throat like claws. “Now, Hakkai. And get this damn kappa off me!”
Gojyo exhales an amused breath against Sanzo's sweaty neck and squeezes his cock through the whispering silk. “Aw, c'mon, man. Your mouth says no but your body says come-fuck-me.” The chi object is thrust forward with a suddenness that drives a groan right out of Sanzo's chest. Then it settles deep inside him, pulsing a hot beat and widening at its base in a smooth expansion to stretch him more.
“While I agree with Gojyo's observation, we need to make sure you don't end up with any damage.” The skirt is once again lifted.
“Holy hell, Hakkai! I can see that chi-thing from here. Whoa. Whoa.” Goku's breathless words come out fast and hoarse like a stream coursing over small stones and rocks. He's somewhere behind Sanzo, just to the right. At least Sanzo can gauge how far he'll need to turn when he snaps the monkey's neck. That is, after he's put down Gojyo and Hakkai.
“Quite effective, isn't it?” Hakkai says with more than an ounce of pride. “I thought it up before we began. Now, Sanzo, I'm going to add some lubrication so this goes smoothly.” What sounds like a cork pops out of what sounds like a bottleneck.
The panties are pulled down to half way over the curve of his ass, and something warm and slick dribbles into his crack to smother the chi tentacle as it pumps, twists, thrusts in and out of him in ever-widening, ever-lengthening strokes. The tip of the detached, living hard-on remains ribbed and slightly thinner than the rest, burrowing and jabbing like it's trying to crawl into his stomach. Every now and then it strikes something deep inside that zings his nerve-endings, makes his cock surge and swell against the strained silk.
Gojyo squeezes him again, pressing his thumb to the thick vein running up the underside of his dick. The digit might as well be made of electricity. A sudden burst of tense pleasure shakes Sanzo's frame and his hips jerk forward. “Quit it!” he barks.
“Man, that's hot. Hell, look, Hakkai – he's leaking already.”
“F-fuck you,” Sanzo bites out.
“Ohh, I gotta see this!” Thump-thump-thump as Goku pads around to get a front view. “Wow.” The thick, dark line of Goku's erection moulds the front of his undershorts, a line Sanzo tries not to look at – fuck, too late. With a fervent determination, he wishes harm on the lot of them. Maybe a roof cave-in; he'll even sacrifice himself for revenge.
“I think he's ready, man.”
“I think so, too. Wow.”
“All right.” The chi tentacle is hastily drawn out and makes a wet, slick noise as it exits. Sanzo's muscles flutter and grasp at the loss, reflexes he finds he has zero control over.
Immediately Gojyo ceases the tortuous cock-tease and sits back on his heels at Sanzo's side. Within the stretch of the panties, Sanzo's prick jerks and aches with a helpless want. The silk at the head is soaking wet with musky pre-come Sanzo himself can feel and smell, his own scent intoxicating and arousing and desperate. Terrible.
“Goku, would you like to go first?”
“Hey, how comes the half-pint gets to go first?”
“You got ta relax him,” Goku says. “Play fair, you pervy roach!”
“Ehh, fine. Whatever. It's not like you'll last long anyway.”
“Shut up!”
“Monkey.” It comes out as a warning, spoken low as Goku takes a step toward him. “If you value your life, you'll back the hell off. I'll find a w-way to kill you, believe me.”
“Just ignore him, small fry. Look at him. He's gagging for it.” Gojyo's voice takes on a smoky, sly edge. “Think of all those times he whacked you for opening your mouth, man.”
The sleeves pinch Sanzo's wrists as he struggles, an impossible, futile fight against his bonds. There's no give, not even a minuscule leeway.
“Unngh, looks so wet there,” Goku moans, followed by the sound of material hushing over skin.
“It's the lubrication,” Hakkai informs him and for the first time he sounds a little out of breath. “You'll be glad for it, Goku, and so will Sanzo. But wait,” he adds, a firm hand pushing the centre of Sanzo's back with no warning, no ceremony. He tips forward and starts to fall down.
“Don't you da–” he begins, mid-topple. But Gojyo's there in a heartbeat, grabbing him around the chest, easing him onto the boards to that his cheek is squashed to warm, dusty wood, his chest supporting most of his upper half. The bar prevents him from straightening his legs even though his limbs scream to stretch out flat. His ass rides high on display, open and slick and kissed by the shift of air as Goku discards his shorts.
“Goku, this is your last warning.” Sanzo's lips barely move.
A groan, rich and low and unique as Goku nudges the head of his cock against Sanzo's sensitised hole. All warning dries up in Sanzo's mouth the instant the monkey begins pushing in, re-stretching his scorching body.
“Oh, fuck, oh! My fuckinghellSanzoohmygod!”
A shallow thrust, then another. Goku pants like a dog in heat behind and above and all around him. A harder thrust, one that slides him home, his cock rooted so far in Sanzo it's like he can feel it at the back of his throat. Never, nothing has ever come close to this sensation. Sanzo's jaw hurts from where he's clenched it and his lips are pressed so tightly together he knows there's danger of an event horizon. Flames dance behind his sheathed eyelids; fire spreads through his lower half, rushing up his body on the inside. Heat, the heat–
“Sanzo – god, I! Ungh!” Goku pauses for all of a second and a half before drawing back out. As he does, Sanzo pictures his innards wrapped around Goku's cock being dragged along with him, leaving him an empty husk of a man. A shudder passes through Goku and into Sanzo, and the fingers gripping Sanzo's hips like clamps begin to shake.
Then Goku shoves forward and the world blinks out for a split instant, before coming back into hazy view. Sanzo feels himself scrape across the floorboards a couple of inches, his cheek grazing the rough grain of the wood. There, Goku stops again but properly freezes this time, uttering a gravelly groan that goes on and on and on.
“Fuck, man. Faster than a speeding bullet.”
Either Goku's too caught up in pumping come into Sanzo's ass, or he's not in the mood to verbal spar with Gojyo; he holds position, jerking his hips in tiny thrusts until all noise ceases but for Sanzo's raw gasps.
It's no great surprise Goku pulls out too fast, his dick making a horrific pop that Sanzo knows will forever be scored into his memory.
“That was so good I dunno what the hell oh. Sanzo.”
Bloody idiot, thinks Sanzo, hissing out a breath between his teeth. There's blood in his mouth, ferrous and tangy, from where he's bitten his lip. At least it's something to focus on. Until, that is, Hakkai interrupts him.
“Gojyo, would you care to go next?”
“D-don't you dare, kappa. Get that overrated prick anywhere n-near me and I'll–”
“Whoa, whoa there, Sanzo-sama. Let's not be hasty with the 'overrated' shit.”
“I'll squeeze until you scream,” Sanzo finishes.
“Promises, promises,” Gojyo retorts and replaces Goku in the space between Sanzo's spread thighs. Two large, calloused hands smack down on his ass – one on each cheek – with a disgraceful, dual slap that rings loud in the room. Gojyo blows out a melodic whistle. “Nice.”
His cock is slicker than Goku's and Sanzo assumes he's thought to add some extra lube to it. Gojyo's thrusts blur into one rolling, roiling crash of sensation and heat and almost-pain. In Sanzo's ears his own voice comes out like a raw, mechanical thing not belonging to him, a series of ragged ”Huh-huh-huhh”s that ooze out his mouth – are fucked right out of him.
Buddha's flabby tits, he's never been this mad at them, never in all the years, not after all the harebrained detours and stupid side mini-missions combined. By the time Gojyo starts spanking Sanzo's tender ass with swift, sharp hits using the flat of his palm, Sanzo's too hoarse to articulate just what he plans to do to him in return.
A trickle of hot moisture winds its way down his crack to slide over his full, aching balls, but Sanzo's unsure whether it's what remains of Goku's spend or if it's Gojyo's – he's beyond the point of clarity, spun into a web of wet and thump and searing good. If the kappa's come already, Sanzo cannot tell. There's movement, but it's slower and that's all he's aware of beneath the careen of orgasm that builds excruciatingly in his groin, dragging him closer to oblivion.
He's starting to look forward to getting there.
“Shit, Sanzo. You've no idea how long I've wanted to find out how tight you are. Bet you've never even stuck your own finger up here.”
“Gojyo, don't be unnecessarily personal.” Hakkai's accustomed pleasant indifference is shot; the guy sounds like he's run a mile and then some, like he's the one who's been screwing Sanzo down into the floor.
Coolness bathes his backside as Gojyo withdraws and pulls back. A satisfied “Humph” is followed by the sound of Gojyo collapsing on the boards. Sanzo opens his mouth to swear but nothing comes out but a faint groan. On his opposite side, he can hear Goku squirming.
“Ha...” he says, intending it to be Hakkai, just get the hell on with it so I can put you all in early graves.
Ever economical, Hakkai wastes no time. “Gosh, you're so moist now, like a woman.”
“Nnn,” Sanzo tells him in no uncertain tone. If there's one thing he hates, it's being compared to the other sex. Once on Kinzan mountain a bandit had made the mistake. That, too, had resulted in blood and gore, much like tonight would, when Goku, Gojyo, and Hakkai are finally fucking finished with the fucking fucking and Sanzo can make them pay.
Unlike Gojyo, Hakkai's touch is lighter. He spider-walks his fingers over the curve of Sanzo's sweaty flesh, smoothing the moisture and rubbing it into his skin. Attention to detail, that's Hakkai all over, apparently as much in sex as in everything else.
“Just ease yourself back from wherever you are, Sanzo.” Gradually the soothing hand drifts over Sanzo's hip and around, then inward to where the white silk panties are now sopping wet. With a firm stroke of healer's fingers, Hakkai drags Sanzo's orgasm the rest of the way out of him, not even bothering to unwrap the goods, just letting Sanzo shoot hard and fast all over his own abdomen.
The moans Sanzo can hear come from a million miles away, although he can feel them vibrating in his throat and chest, crawling up and bursting free like demons. Everything goes black for a moment, all sense of time, place, and people gone and replaced with a jerking, bucking, tearing heat and heightened, twisting, bone-obliterating pleasure.
Hakkai pushes into him while he's still spasming, has most likely brought Sanzo off for that very reason – so he can feel the clench to the greatest degree. Always so damn calculated. Sanzo is sure he should be pissed about that.
“You guys look,” Gojyo's voice plays form far off, through layers of orgasm and frustration and anger and stretch, “so fucking pretty. Ain't that right, Goku?”
“Uh-huh,” Goku breathes. “Hell yeah...”
Hakkai rides him hard and deep and slow, swaying his hips upward on each thrust so that Sanzo's knees lift off the boards. There's no change in Hakkai's tempo as he comes, nor any sound apart from a very polite little, “Oh!”
Sinking, Sanzo floats on a sea of swirling, colourless numb. Exhaustion seizes his limbs and makes him forget where, why... what?
“He's wasted, man. Abso-fuckin-lutely wasted.”
“I feel bad. Like, really bad for him. But I feel good, too. Really good.”
“Heh, shut up, monkey. Hey, Hakkai, should we move him yet?”
The cock buried deep in his ass is removed with a steady withdraw, with so much more finesse than Goku or Gojyo had granted. “Gojyo, could you go run a bath. Not too hot, not too cold. Goku, let's untie him and get him into the bathroom.”
“On it,” says Gojyo.
“I'm here,” says Goku.
Sanzo doesn't tell them he doesn't want their help or their sympathy. He's rocking on a blissful emptiness he's never felt before, drenched in sweat and dripping come out his open, gaping ass, chi still flushing vaguely back and forth over his skin in warm caresses. There's nothing, really – he's devoid of tension, lost for impatience, lacking a care in the world.
For the time being, Sanzo forgets anger and insult, and willingly floats in all-out-fucked nirvana.
~Fin~
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