Fandom: Gensomaden Saiyuki

Pairing: Sanzo/Goku, 39

Disclaimer/warnings: Saiyuki belongs to Minekura Kazuya entirely. I'm a poor high schooler, so please don't sue me.

Also, this fanfic contains yaoi material. Like in male/male, gay relationship (and -sex-). If it's not to your liking, please, hit the 'x' button on the top right corner of your browser.

Interlude

by le-renégat (Lou)

His hands entangled themselves in golden hair and his lips searched, longed for the other man's. The smell of cigarettes and cheap beer invaded his nostrils and he suddenly felt like it didn't matter if Sanzo wasn't sober, if Sanzo didn't really love him. Even if he, himself, would care and silently weep later, he couldn't bring himself to think about it right now.

Heh, what a lie.

His knee found it's place between the monk's legs, pressing against his robe-covered arousal. He wanted his mind to go blank. He didn't want to think about what he was doing or about the man he was about to have sex with. He didn't want to think about how hot Sanzo's tongue was in his Adam's apple or how skilled the monk was with handjobs (and how he shouldn't be, really, afterall he was still a monk). But mostly, he didn't want to think about how much he loved this fucked up man.

I'd kill you.

And Sanzo didn't really know that he was killing him already with each apathetic look he directed at him, with each angry hit or snappy remark he made. There was no need for bullets to kill him. It could be done with one word only.

Die.

His arms felt heavy and he stayed still, letting his body for the other man to freely explore. The pants he was wearing were quickly discarted and he was guided to the bed, falling with a soft thud. And, as he felt the butterfly kisses the monk was placing on his chest, tears ran down the side of his face, wetting his chestnut brown hair.

And Sanzo wouldn't even notice.

He'd never notice in his drunken stupor, in his desire for his body. He'd never see his broken heart when he woke up the next morning with a hangover. He'd never really see... Him.

If you lost your life, would you want us to bring you back?

He'd been dead for a while, now. And nobody even noticed or even tried to bring him back.

He silently gasped when he felt the monk's mouth engulf his member, moving up and down, while sticking his fingers into him, preparing him for what was coming later, the ghastly feeling of belonging to the man he loved, but not having him at all.

It was not like it hadn't happened before. No, he'd already had sex with Sanzo. He'd already been broken by the man several times. Each time they did it, he died a little on the inside. Each time they did it he felt like one of the whores Gojyo brought home, lustful and smelling like dried cum.

He silently sobbed as he felt the monk enter him, stretching him, hurting him. It wasn't as if he cared, really. He'd use him for the night, and wouldn't even remember he did it the day after.

And that was what hurt him the most.

... No, it wasn't. What hurt him the most was the fact that Sanzo was his sun, but he'd never be something as important for the man. The Earth could never live without the Sun, but the Sun...

The Sun was just fine without the Earth.

And then he felt the monk's release inside him, hot, sticky, overwhelming. He felt the now soft member leave his body, and felt the matress shift, as the other got up and lied down on his own bed, leaving him broken, used and dirty, staring at the white ceiling, the lightbulb blurred by the tears that threatened to fall yet once again.

... Would you want us to bring you back?

No, it's okay. I think I'd be okay.

I'd like to ask you to be kind to me, as English is definetely not my first language, and there might be lots and lots of mistakes on this. Thanks for reading.

Lou.