Saiyuki drabble
~
If this was supposed to be some sort of lesson against uncharitable post-sex stipulations, Sanzo wasn’t about to tell the monkey it wasn’t working. Or it was, rather, but that was... It...damn, what was he trying to say, again?
Goku’s toes crawled up the inside of his calf, Goku’s tongue drew a long stripe over the curve of his jaw, and Sanzo was having a difficult time sticking to the point. Which was that he was above such base methods of manipulation. Right.
“Goku,” he drawled warningly, but the brunet wasn’t listening.
Pressing himself flush against the priest’s back, Goku held him there with an arm barred across the man’s chest and his hand fisted in the pillow beneath Sanzo’s head. He groaned a little as, with some not-so-subtle maneuvering, his erection nestled into the cleft of Sanzo’s ass.
The blond hissed, his hips pressing back involuntarily, “Goku,” he growled as his fingers sought out and tightened on the younger male’s hip.
“I’m not using hands,” Goku insisted, his mouth pressed hot and moist and with just a suggestion of sharp teeth against the nape of Sanzo’s neck. “You said to keep my hands to myself.”
The breathless laugh tickled its way down Sanzo’s spine--think you’re so goddamn clever, don’t you?--as Goku squeezed a knee between his and rubbed against him shamelessly. Goku’s upper thigh nudged, then hitched up against his scrotum with blatant intent, and it took Sanzo longer than it should have to realize the low, helplessly aroused groan was his own.
Christ. So much for a modicum of dignity.
But when Goku dropped babbled, fervid words of devotion against the faded scars which crisscrossed his back, Sanzo decided he could afford a little private loss of face if it came with compensation like this.
~
If this was supposed to be some sort of lesson against uncharitable post-sex stipulations, Sanzo wasn’t about to tell the monkey it wasn’t working. Or it was, rather, but that was... It...damn, what was he trying to say, again?
Goku’s toes crawled up the inside of his calf, Goku’s tongue drew a long stripe over the curve of his jaw, and Sanzo was having a difficult time sticking to the point. Which was that he was above such base methods of manipulation. Right.
“Goku,” he drawled warningly, but the brunet wasn’t listening.
Pressing himself flush against the priest’s back, Goku held him there with an arm barred across the man’s chest and his hand fisted in the pillow beneath Sanzo’s head. He groaned a little as, with some not-so-subtle maneuvering, his erection nestled into the cleft of Sanzo’s ass.
The blond hissed, his hips pressing back involuntarily, “Goku,” he growled as his fingers sought out and tightened on the younger male’s hip.
“I’m not using hands,” Goku insisted, his mouth pressed hot and moist and with just a suggestion of sharp teeth against the nape of Sanzo’s neck. “You said to keep my hands to myself.”
The breathless laugh tickled its way down Sanzo’s spine--think you’re so goddamn clever, don’t you?--as Goku squeezed a knee between his and rubbed against him shamelessly. Goku’s upper thigh nudged, then hitched up against his scrotum with blatant intent, and it took Sanzo longer than it should have to realize the low, helplessly aroused groan was his own.
Christ. So much for a modicum of dignity.
But when Goku dropped babbled, fervid words of devotion against the faded scars which crisscrossed his back, Sanzo decided he could afford a little private loss of face if it came with compensation like this.
~