My not-so-triumphant return (Fanfiction)
Battles Not Won
By Solitaire
~ - ~
The double doors to his room banged open without warning.
“Sanzo! That stupid pervy kappa--”
Raising his gun, Sanzo thumbed back the hammer. “I thought I said I’d kill the next person to step foot in here before morning.”
“Wah, Sanzo, don’t shoot, it’s me!” Goku insisted as he lifted his hands defensively.
The blond’s finger eased on the trigger, but he didn’t lower the Smith & Wesson. “What do you want?”
“Well, it’s just...Gojyo’s hoggin’ the bathroom, and...” Goku trailed off uncertainly. “Sanzo, are you okay?” The boy took a step forward, Not Goku Sanzo’s mind yelled, and he squeezed off a shot which took out a chunk of the door frame, but whatever that thing was, pretending to be Goku, had vanished quicker than his eyes could follow.
Sanzo continued to stare at the doorway, mentally shuffling through his options--something was definitely off about this place, this just confirmed it--when the hairs at the back of his neck prickled.
“’Tch!”
He whirled around but wasn’t fast enough, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the smirk on Goku’s face, and the bare foot coming at his head, too late.
~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
An indeterminable time later he woke to Goku’s face (not Goku, he stubbornly reminded himself), inches from his own and pulling back.
The brunet was sneering down at him slyly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Sanzo realized there was a strange taste on his tongue. He coughed as it burned its way down his throat; coughed again as he too-quickly drew breath to yell, and the laughter from out of the darkness which followed set his teeth on edge.
“Are you feeling alright, Sanzo-sama?” came a voice he didn’t recognize, seemingly far off, so much so that it disoriented him for a moment. No...he recognized that voice from somewhere, didn’t he? But he couldn’t recall where...
“What the hell did you give me?” Sanzo growled as he began to regain his bearings. It was slow going, though, and he was willing to put odds on this being due to whatever crap he’d just been coerced into swallowing. It was dark, and not terribly warm, but he guessed they were indoors. He was sitting on the floor, against the wall, and when he moved to pull himself to his feet despite the sudden weakness in his limbs, he was stopped short. Beneath his foot, something crunched and rustled like...paper.
“That was a nasty blow to the head you took,” that voice sighed, disturbingly familiar. “I really regret having to do something so low as chain you here, Sanzo-sama, but I was afraid otherwise you wouldn’t sit still to listen to what I have to say.”
Sanzo jerked experimentally at the chains which held his arms above his head, but they were more than solid. “You’re only inviting death, you pervert,” he promised dangerously as he fought against the pull of the chains to see how much play he had.
“Hmm, are you sure you want to struggle?” that infuriating voice inquired, much nearer this time. “It will only make the drugs take effect faster,” he warned, sing-song.
The blond froze. “Take effect how?” he demanded, only to be laughed at again.
Into the light--candlelight, he could now see well enough to place--he saw himself step with a derisive expression. From behind his double stepped a man who looked like a masquerade ball reject, and Sanzo had to wonder if hallucinations weren’t one of the effects of whatever he’d been given.
“Oooh, that would be telling,” the man admonished from around his double’s shoulder.
“What do you want with me?”
The costumed freak danced out around his imitation Sanzo. “Don’t you remember me, Sanzo-sama? The one who tried so hard to be good enough for you, to be strong enough to stay by your side, to be everything you wanted?”
With a curl of his lip, Sanzo cast cool eyes over the other man. “You don’t know me at all, if you think that’s what I’d want. I despise people who think like that.”
“NO!” the man shrieked, holding his hands over his ears. “No no no! I understand Sanzo-sama best, I’m the only one--” Sanzo watched as he darted back behind his double and wrapped his arms around its waist, breathing erratically.
Sanzo grimaced to see what looked like himself being touched so casually and intimately, and his eyes darted to the double of Goku which had been standing silently by all this time.
Somehow this enraged their host even more, and he snarled in the fake Goku’s direction. “I’m quite done with you, thank you!” he snapped, and sent the copy to dust with a wave of his hand, until all that remained was an orange paper airplane. The floor was littered with them, countless, Sanzo finally noticed with a sickening sense of dread.
“It was so easy to get past your defenses with that one,” the petulant little creep sneered, peering from between his fingers. “Tell me, have you taken him to your bed? You can tell me.”
Flushing indignantly, Sanzo reared against his chains, “Shut your filthy mouth!” he shouted, then doubled over with a grunt as a wave of heat washed through him.
“Don’t. Lie. To. Me!” the other male hissed in a strangled voice as his hands clenched and unclenched in the fabric of his shikigami’s cassock. “I can see it in the way you look at him, why won’t you look at me like that?” He flung his mask aside in a fit of temper, “Why why why?!” and Sanzo finally realized who he was, though the face was changed almost beyond recognition.
“Dougan.”
“Yes!” Dougan agreed readily, and he released his fabricated Sanzo to step towards the real thing, trembling with emotion. He dropped to his knees beside the blond, reached out to stroke his face, and Sanzo jerked away. Dougan’s hand fisted air and he laughed shakily. “You remember me, of course you do!”
“I remember you,” Sanzo acknowledged slowly with a frown. “You’re still as much a childish brat as ever.”
The slap itself was unexpected, even if the retaliation wasn’t, and Dougan immediately gave a soft cry of dismay.
“Oh, look what you’ve made me do!”
Sanzo wasn’t certain just when it started, but he was breathing heavily, as if each breath was an effort against...something; his vision was blurring, and he was beginning to sweat.
“Let me go,” he tried again in a tone which brooked no argument, one which not many people had ever dared to defy, even if it was becoming less and less effective on Goku these days.
“I’ve waited too long for you to come for me,” Dougan protested, and though his voice wavered, there was something hard in his expression. “Your faithful disciple never should have raised a hand against Sanzo-sama,” he moaned ruefully as he backed away on shaky legs. “But I’ll make it up to you, yes.” His eyes raked over Sanzo in a way which made the blond feel distinctly ill.
“Don’t even think about it,” he ground out from between his teeth, but the younger man was already stroking the arm of his pet shikigami lovingly and murmuring instructions.
“Make my Sanzo-sama feel good. I’ve been so terribly bad, and I have to atone for it...”
Sanzo’s mind rebelled, tried to take his body with it, but the aphrodisiac--even if he refused to admit it aloud, it was obvious what it was--was taking a firm hold. He was repulsed by the thought of what Dougan intended, but his heartbeat was racing, his breath was short, his skin felt hot and stretched tight over his bones. The surrealism of the situation was just all the greater for the fact that he was watching himself approach with a stoic expression.
“Use the bit,” Dougan crooned, his eyes glittering in the candlelight of the room. “We wouldn’t want Sanzo-sama to hurt himself.”
“Fuck you!” Sanzo snarled as he kicked at his double, but he was caught by the ankle and jerked away from the support of the wall, onto his back, skidding along the floor with a clanking of chains and scattering paper airplanes like so many dried leaves. He saw himself reach past his field of vision and pulled back with metal and leather in his hand. The bit was shoved past his teeth and fastened behind his head.
“I’m doing this for Sanzo-sama’s own good,” the younger man insisted, wringing his hands anxiously.
Sanzo made an inarticulate growl of fury as his shikigami copy sat on his knees to keep him still, then set to work fishing beneath his robes to undo his fly, tugged the jeans down his thighs, and the blond tried to wrench from the touch. The effort was wasted, given his limited ability for movement; the imitation Sanzo grasped his half-hard dick and Sanzo swore and shuddered, fought against the urge to let his eyes slide shut. His brow furrowed and he gasped through his nose, he refused to give that sick bastard the satisfaction of forcing any noise out of him--but something in his face must have been enough for the pervert, because Dougan groaned lowly.
“Show me,” he whispered, and when his own personal Sanzo-sama shoved up the monk’s robes, he sucked in a quick breath. “Ohh.”
Some small part of himself Sanzo didn’t want to analyze was gratified by the reaction, but before he could properly muster a sufficient amount of self-disgust, his shikigami self fisted him more firmly, stroking him to full hardness. Even as he strained against his bonds, Dougan’s drugs must have been working overtime, because though he willed himself not to give into it, that didn’t stop the mantra of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ which ran through his head, or the fact that his body ached with the desire to thrust into--
Unexpectedly, there was the rough swipe of tongue over the head of his dick, and his hips bucked as he nearly came. Forcing his eyes open--he hadn’t realized they were closed--he saw Dougan leaning over him as he clutched his shikigami’s arm.
“Oh, Sanzo-sama,” he sighed with something uncomfortably near reverence, and the blond noticed with unease that he was rubbing himself through his pants. The bizarre body suit was unzipped to his navel.
He didn’t even get the chance to protest before his shikigami-self was tugging at his cock in earnest with one hand, the other palm splayed low on his abdomen to hold him still, and Sanzo needed it. Dougan came closer, leaned over him to touch his hair and Sanzo flinched away, but the younger man was persistent. He mouthed the priest’s cheekbone, and his lips were unbearably hot.
“He’s close,” Sanzo heard himself say with something like amusement, yet that face remained as bland as ever.
“I understand how you feel,” Dougan murmured against his neck, the vibration of the words trickling down the blond’s spine like electricity, “day after day on your holy quest with no respite, no thanks, no one to properly tend to your needs...” Sanzo’s heart skipped a beat, one of those ‘needs’ sinking its claws into him with a vengeance as the fall of Dougan’s hair brushed his cheek, as his double dragged a thumb across the head of his dick, and he choked back a groan.
“But Dougan is here now, to be ever Sanzo-sama’s faithful servant. Anything you want,” he insisted desperately, his voice trembling, “I will gladly do for you.”
And, oh, Sanzo wanted. Some dark corner of his mind protested, demanded common sense, but he was helpless against the burning in his blood.
“Dougan,” his copy warned curtly in his own voice, and Sanzo realized he was coming; fighting the natural reaction to close his eyes--don’t trust them--he watched as his former acolyte moved to take his load in the face, his mouth, his chest, and it felt like it went on forever, until Dougan laughed and tilted his head back with a moan.
Sanzo grunted and collapsed against the floor, all the tension momentarily drained from his body and his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes followed the other male’s movements through his lashes as Dougan rubbed his cum into his skin, licked it from his chin, from his gloved fingertips, “Ahh...”
This guy was an even bigger freak than he’d given him credit for, Sanzo realized with mild horror, and he had to blame the aphrodisiac for the way his dick twitched weakly at the sight.
“Sanzo-sama,” Dougan sighed rapturously, and leaned back against his shikigami’s chest. Angled his face to kiss him, a gloved hand along the double’s cheek to hold him in place, and his fingers left streaks of cum on the blond’s skin that glittered in the dim lighting. Sanzo found something deeply disturbing about watching himself kiss the self-made demon with speculatively half-open eyes and no emotion, though his imitation was fierce enough about it in action.
Dougan gently moved his own personal Sanzo priest’s hand to his thigh, “Undress me, Sanzo-sama, please,” he panted, chest heaving and the muscles of his abdomen rippling through the open ‘V’ of his body suit, and the shikigami obediently moved a hand down Dougan’s leg. The boots were unzipped from the knee and discarded, Dougan’s pants tugged down and off as well, but the body suit and Dougan’s gloves stayed.
“Sanzo-sama, please!” he begged, and the shikigami Sanzo pulled him back against his chest, slid one hand under Dougan’s thigh to hold him open while the other brushed perfunctorily over Dougan’s erection before pushing two fingers inside him.
Unable to tear his gaze away, Sanzo watched himself finger-fuck the younger male, twisting and spreading, loosening him up, and it wasn’t long before a third finger was added. He thought he ought to be disgusted by himself, by the fact that his dick was stirring already, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from continuing to stare, or from absently flexing his hands around the chains which bound him.
“Oh, yes,” Dougan gasped, writhing in his duplicate’s arms, “more...”
“You’re such a slut, Dougan,” Sanzo heard himself--not him--say almost fondly, surprising him, and Dougan groaned in response as the shikigami removed his fingers to smear a bit of Sanzo’s drying cum over Dougan’s asshole, pushed it inside; circled his thumb around the fluttering pucker, pressed that thumb past the ring of muscle, and Dougan’s ass sucked it right down. Sanzo’s dick throbbed.
“Sanzo-sama, don’t tease,” Dougan whined, but the shikigami ignored him, pulled his thumb free to insert his index finger, twisted and thrust, in to the first knuckle and completely out. Dougan whined from the back of his throat and Sanzo’s double switched for his middle finger. “Stop--!” Dougan gasped, arching back against the blond’s chest and taking the finger in as far as it would go.
The shikigami spread him wider and pushed three fingers back into him with agonizing slowness. Whimpering, Dougan sounded as if he wanted to cry, and he reached behind himself to clutch the back of his substitute Sanzo’s neck tightly as his whole body shook.
Sanzo’s cock was dripping. This was torment of the worst kind: though his mind recoiled at the thought, his body was more than ready and willing to thrust inside that eager, pulsing hole. He’d really let the sick freak have (what’s coming to him, right up his ass) a piece of his mind if he wasn’t gagged, but he was, and his mouth was dry around the bit, his jaw ached, and he tried again to tug free of his bonds but of course it was useless. He wondered for a delirious moment if they were really there, or if it was another one of Dougan’s illusions.
The rattle of chains drew Dougan’s attention, and he lowered his chin to regard the priest through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Are you getting impatient?” he asked, laughing breathlessly. “I always knew you wanted Dougan, your faithful servant--I waited desperately for a word from you, Sanzo-sama, a touch... Was it that you were afraid to corrupt me?”
That earned an angry, incredulous noise from Sanzo, because Dougan had certainly corrupted himself without any help, and in much worse ways than fucking the head priest of his temple would have done.
Dougan laughed again, haltingly, as the blond’s copy continued to finger-fuck him with single-minded intensity, yet maintained that same sluggish pace that Sanzo could see driving Dougan wild as the younger man rubbed a palm over his own nipple.
‘Fucking bitch cock-tease,’ Sanzo wanted to snarl, but the metal of the bit contacted his teeth too painfully when he tried, and it was so much easier to let his mouth hang slack, to worry only about drawing the next breath, and the next. “Do it,” he hissed around the gag, and that much must have been articulate enough, because Dougan smiled down at him coyly.
He was never certain just how that moment transitioned to the next, but then Dougan was straddling him and sinking down onto his cock. A sharp noise worked its way up Sanzo’s throat and his back arched, he was gasping for air and his vision swam; Dougan leaned over him with shallow, pained breaths, his hands fisted in the blond’s cassock at his chest, and Sanzo thought that under normal circumstances he’d never suffer such a thing, but these were far from normal circumstances. His arms chained to the wall above his head, that fucking aphrodisiac pulsing through his veins, and he didn’t really want to get away from the too-satisfying give of the other man’s body after all, so he shifted his hips and thrust up into Dougan with a growl.
Dougan cried out uncomfortably, but it was no more than he deserved, the little bitch. “Ohh, oh, Sanzo-sama,” he groaned, and Sanzo gave it to him again, and again, his blood burning and his body caught up in the mindless pursuit of orgasm. This was a horrible idea, wrong on so many levels but he couldn’t stop, his cock was achingly hard and the man above him was so hot and tight, and he couldn’t stop.
Like a bitch in heat Dougan was keening and panting, whining for it as Sanzo continued to drive up into him, “Sanzo-sama, I--I can’t...” Sanzo saw himself move in behind Dougan and wrap his arms around him, a hand securely on Dougan’s chest and a hand on his dick. Sanzo watched that hand--his hand, with the fingerless black glove, the silver ring--because it was better than watching Dougan’s face, and he grimaced because it would have been so much easier (more satisfying) to flip the other man onto his back and really pound into him.
Sweat ran down Sanzo’s temple. It soaked into his clothing and he knew even after it was all over and he was able to shower, able to wash the filth from him, the smell would linger and he’d be sickened by his weakness and the fact that he allowed himself to be put in this position in the first place. But right now he couldn’t get enough of it, Dougan whimpered and Sanzo’s balls tightened at the sound.
When Sanzo came this time, it was with a fierce string of expletives which was made inarticulate by the bit between his teeth. Dougan made some utterly indecent noise, only half-heard, as the blond emptied himself deep inside him, and it took just a few more strokes from his Sanzo-double to send him over the edge with a drawn out cry.
The position was hell, there was no leverage to speak of, and his wrists felt rubbed raw from the shackles; even so, Sanzo had to admit to himself that the sex hadn’t been bad--might have been convinced to admit it aloud, if he thought it would get Dougan to let him go. Mercifully, he felt the gag untied and the bit pulled from his mouth. Dougan made no move to climb off him, though, and Sanzo winced at the continued contact of over-stimulated flesh. Grimaced, when he realized the goddamn drugs hadn’t worked their way out of his system yet.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded hoarsely, narrowing one eye as he glanced warily up at the creepy costumed deviant. Because, honestly: depraved, all-night fuck-fests were more Gojyo’s thing, and if he had thought for a second that he’d be able to get away with it, Sanzo wouldn’t have hesitated to offer the kappa up as a sacrificial lamb.
Dougan laughed, bent over him to tenderly stroke the sweat-damp golden hair from his face as he smiled down at him, and whether it was the look in his eyes or the smile or some combination of the two, something wasn’t all ‘there.’
“Just Sanzo-sama. That’s all I ever wanted.” With the tip of his tongue, he traced the shell of Sanzo’s ear, then chased tongue with whispered words. “I’ll make sure you never, ever forget me again.”
~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
Creepy stalker...ftw?!? D:
The next one will be Goku/Sanzo, I promise guys. DDD:
By Solitaire
~ - ~
The double doors to his room banged open without warning.
“Sanzo! That stupid pervy kappa--”
Raising his gun, Sanzo thumbed back the hammer. “I thought I said I’d kill the next person to step foot in here before morning.”
“Wah, Sanzo, don’t shoot, it’s me!” Goku insisted as he lifted his hands defensively.
The blond’s finger eased on the trigger, but he didn’t lower the Smith & Wesson. “What do you want?”
“Well, it’s just...Gojyo’s hoggin’ the bathroom, and...” Goku trailed off uncertainly. “Sanzo, are you okay?” The boy took a step forward, Not Goku Sanzo’s mind yelled, and he squeezed off a shot which took out a chunk of the door frame, but whatever that thing was, pretending to be Goku, had vanished quicker than his eyes could follow.
Sanzo continued to stare at the doorway, mentally shuffling through his options--something was definitely off about this place, this just confirmed it--when the hairs at the back of his neck prickled.
“’Tch!”
He whirled around but wasn’t fast enough, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the smirk on Goku’s face, and the bare foot coming at his head, too late.
~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
An indeterminable time later he woke to Goku’s face (not Goku, he stubbornly reminded himself), inches from his own and pulling back.
The brunet was sneering down at him slyly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Sanzo realized there was a strange taste on his tongue. He coughed as it burned its way down his throat; coughed again as he too-quickly drew breath to yell, and the laughter from out of the darkness which followed set his teeth on edge.
“Are you feeling alright, Sanzo-sama?” came a voice he didn’t recognize, seemingly far off, so much so that it disoriented him for a moment. No...he recognized that voice from somewhere, didn’t he? But he couldn’t recall where...
“What the hell did you give me?” Sanzo growled as he began to regain his bearings. It was slow going, though, and he was willing to put odds on this being due to whatever crap he’d just been coerced into swallowing. It was dark, and not terribly warm, but he guessed they were indoors. He was sitting on the floor, against the wall, and when he moved to pull himself to his feet despite the sudden weakness in his limbs, he was stopped short. Beneath his foot, something crunched and rustled like...paper.
“That was a nasty blow to the head you took,” that voice sighed, disturbingly familiar. “I really regret having to do something so low as chain you here, Sanzo-sama, but I was afraid otherwise you wouldn’t sit still to listen to what I have to say.”
Sanzo jerked experimentally at the chains which held his arms above his head, but they were more than solid. “You’re only inviting death, you pervert,” he promised dangerously as he fought against the pull of the chains to see how much play he had.
“Hmm, are you sure you want to struggle?” that infuriating voice inquired, much nearer this time. “It will only make the drugs take effect faster,” he warned, sing-song.
The blond froze. “Take effect how?” he demanded, only to be laughed at again.
Into the light--candlelight, he could now see well enough to place--he saw himself step with a derisive expression. From behind his double stepped a man who looked like a masquerade ball reject, and Sanzo had to wonder if hallucinations weren’t one of the effects of whatever he’d been given.
“Oooh, that would be telling,” the man admonished from around his double’s shoulder.
“What do you want with me?”
The costumed freak danced out around his imitation Sanzo. “Don’t you remember me, Sanzo-sama? The one who tried so hard to be good enough for you, to be strong enough to stay by your side, to be everything you wanted?”
With a curl of his lip, Sanzo cast cool eyes over the other man. “You don’t know me at all, if you think that’s what I’d want. I despise people who think like that.”
“NO!” the man shrieked, holding his hands over his ears. “No no no! I understand Sanzo-sama best, I’m the only one--” Sanzo watched as he darted back behind his double and wrapped his arms around its waist, breathing erratically.
Sanzo grimaced to see what looked like himself being touched so casually and intimately, and his eyes darted to the double of Goku which had been standing silently by all this time.
Somehow this enraged their host even more, and he snarled in the fake Goku’s direction. “I’m quite done with you, thank you!” he snapped, and sent the copy to dust with a wave of his hand, until all that remained was an orange paper airplane. The floor was littered with them, countless, Sanzo finally noticed with a sickening sense of dread.
“It was so easy to get past your defenses with that one,” the petulant little creep sneered, peering from between his fingers. “Tell me, have you taken him to your bed? You can tell me.”
Flushing indignantly, Sanzo reared against his chains, “Shut your filthy mouth!” he shouted, then doubled over with a grunt as a wave of heat washed through him.
“Don’t. Lie. To. Me!” the other male hissed in a strangled voice as his hands clenched and unclenched in the fabric of his shikigami’s cassock. “I can see it in the way you look at him, why won’t you look at me like that?” He flung his mask aside in a fit of temper, “Why why why?!” and Sanzo finally realized who he was, though the face was changed almost beyond recognition.
“Dougan.”
“Yes!” Dougan agreed readily, and he released his fabricated Sanzo to step towards the real thing, trembling with emotion. He dropped to his knees beside the blond, reached out to stroke his face, and Sanzo jerked away. Dougan’s hand fisted air and he laughed shakily. “You remember me, of course you do!”
“I remember you,” Sanzo acknowledged slowly with a frown. “You’re still as much a childish brat as ever.”
The slap itself was unexpected, even if the retaliation wasn’t, and Dougan immediately gave a soft cry of dismay.
“Oh, look what you’ve made me do!”
Sanzo wasn’t certain just when it started, but he was breathing heavily, as if each breath was an effort against...something; his vision was blurring, and he was beginning to sweat.
“Let me go,” he tried again in a tone which brooked no argument, one which not many people had ever dared to defy, even if it was becoming less and less effective on Goku these days.
“I’ve waited too long for you to come for me,” Dougan protested, and though his voice wavered, there was something hard in his expression. “Your faithful disciple never should have raised a hand against Sanzo-sama,” he moaned ruefully as he backed away on shaky legs. “But I’ll make it up to you, yes.” His eyes raked over Sanzo in a way which made the blond feel distinctly ill.
“Don’t even think about it,” he ground out from between his teeth, but the younger man was already stroking the arm of his pet shikigami lovingly and murmuring instructions.
“Make my Sanzo-sama feel good. I’ve been so terribly bad, and I have to atone for it...”
Sanzo’s mind rebelled, tried to take his body with it, but the aphrodisiac--even if he refused to admit it aloud, it was obvious what it was--was taking a firm hold. He was repulsed by the thought of what Dougan intended, but his heartbeat was racing, his breath was short, his skin felt hot and stretched tight over his bones. The surrealism of the situation was just all the greater for the fact that he was watching himself approach with a stoic expression.
“Use the bit,” Dougan crooned, his eyes glittering in the candlelight of the room. “We wouldn’t want Sanzo-sama to hurt himself.”
“Fuck you!” Sanzo snarled as he kicked at his double, but he was caught by the ankle and jerked away from the support of the wall, onto his back, skidding along the floor with a clanking of chains and scattering paper airplanes like so many dried leaves. He saw himself reach past his field of vision and pulled back with metal and leather in his hand. The bit was shoved past his teeth and fastened behind his head.
“I’m doing this for Sanzo-sama’s own good,” the younger man insisted, wringing his hands anxiously.
Sanzo made an inarticulate growl of fury as his shikigami copy sat on his knees to keep him still, then set to work fishing beneath his robes to undo his fly, tugged the jeans down his thighs, and the blond tried to wrench from the touch. The effort was wasted, given his limited ability for movement; the imitation Sanzo grasped his half-hard dick and Sanzo swore and shuddered, fought against the urge to let his eyes slide shut. His brow furrowed and he gasped through his nose, he refused to give that sick bastard the satisfaction of forcing any noise out of him--but something in his face must have been enough for the pervert, because Dougan groaned lowly.
“Show me,” he whispered, and when his own personal Sanzo-sama shoved up the monk’s robes, he sucked in a quick breath. “Ohh.”
Some small part of himself Sanzo didn’t want to analyze was gratified by the reaction, but before he could properly muster a sufficient amount of self-disgust, his shikigami self fisted him more firmly, stroking him to full hardness. Even as he strained against his bonds, Dougan’s drugs must have been working overtime, because though he willed himself not to give into it, that didn’t stop the mantra of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ which ran through his head, or the fact that his body ached with the desire to thrust into--
Unexpectedly, there was the rough swipe of tongue over the head of his dick, and his hips bucked as he nearly came. Forcing his eyes open--he hadn’t realized they were closed--he saw Dougan leaning over him as he clutched his shikigami’s arm.
“Oh, Sanzo-sama,” he sighed with something uncomfortably near reverence, and the blond noticed with unease that he was rubbing himself through his pants. The bizarre body suit was unzipped to his navel.
He didn’t even get the chance to protest before his shikigami-self was tugging at his cock in earnest with one hand, the other palm splayed low on his abdomen to hold him still, and Sanzo needed it. Dougan came closer, leaned over him to touch his hair and Sanzo flinched away, but the younger man was persistent. He mouthed the priest’s cheekbone, and his lips were unbearably hot.
“He’s close,” Sanzo heard himself say with something like amusement, yet that face remained as bland as ever.
“I understand how you feel,” Dougan murmured against his neck, the vibration of the words trickling down the blond’s spine like electricity, “day after day on your holy quest with no respite, no thanks, no one to properly tend to your needs...” Sanzo’s heart skipped a beat, one of those ‘needs’ sinking its claws into him with a vengeance as the fall of Dougan’s hair brushed his cheek, as his double dragged a thumb across the head of his dick, and he choked back a groan.
“But Dougan is here now, to be ever Sanzo-sama’s faithful servant. Anything you want,” he insisted desperately, his voice trembling, “I will gladly do for you.”
And, oh, Sanzo wanted. Some dark corner of his mind protested, demanded common sense, but he was helpless against the burning in his blood.
“Dougan,” his copy warned curtly in his own voice, and Sanzo realized he was coming; fighting the natural reaction to close his eyes--don’t trust them--he watched as his former acolyte moved to take his load in the face, his mouth, his chest, and it felt like it went on forever, until Dougan laughed and tilted his head back with a moan.
Sanzo grunted and collapsed against the floor, all the tension momentarily drained from his body and his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes followed the other male’s movements through his lashes as Dougan rubbed his cum into his skin, licked it from his chin, from his gloved fingertips, “Ahh...”
This guy was an even bigger freak than he’d given him credit for, Sanzo realized with mild horror, and he had to blame the aphrodisiac for the way his dick twitched weakly at the sight.
“Sanzo-sama,” Dougan sighed rapturously, and leaned back against his shikigami’s chest. Angled his face to kiss him, a gloved hand along the double’s cheek to hold him in place, and his fingers left streaks of cum on the blond’s skin that glittered in the dim lighting. Sanzo found something deeply disturbing about watching himself kiss the self-made demon with speculatively half-open eyes and no emotion, though his imitation was fierce enough about it in action.
Dougan gently moved his own personal Sanzo priest’s hand to his thigh, “Undress me, Sanzo-sama, please,” he panted, chest heaving and the muscles of his abdomen rippling through the open ‘V’ of his body suit, and the shikigami obediently moved a hand down Dougan’s leg. The boots were unzipped from the knee and discarded, Dougan’s pants tugged down and off as well, but the body suit and Dougan’s gloves stayed.
“Sanzo-sama, please!” he begged, and the shikigami Sanzo pulled him back against his chest, slid one hand under Dougan’s thigh to hold him open while the other brushed perfunctorily over Dougan’s erection before pushing two fingers inside him.
Unable to tear his gaze away, Sanzo watched himself finger-fuck the younger male, twisting and spreading, loosening him up, and it wasn’t long before a third finger was added. He thought he ought to be disgusted by himself, by the fact that his dick was stirring already, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from continuing to stare, or from absently flexing his hands around the chains which bound him.
“Oh, yes,” Dougan gasped, writhing in his duplicate’s arms, “more...”
“You’re such a slut, Dougan,” Sanzo heard himself--not him--say almost fondly, surprising him, and Dougan groaned in response as the shikigami removed his fingers to smear a bit of Sanzo’s drying cum over Dougan’s asshole, pushed it inside; circled his thumb around the fluttering pucker, pressed that thumb past the ring of muscle, and Dougan’s ass sucked it right down. Sanzo’s dick throbbed.
“Sanzo-sama, don’t tease,” Dougan whined, but the shikigami ignored him, pulled his thumb free to insert his index finger, twisted and thrust, in to the first knuckle and completely out. Dougan whined from the back of his throat and Sanzo’s double switched for his middle finger. “Stop--!” Dougan gasped, arching back against the blond’s chest and taking the finger in as far as it would go.
The shikigami spread him wider and pushed three fingers back into him with agonizing slowness. Whimpering, Dougan sounded as if he wanted to cry, and he reached behind himself to clutch the back of his substitute Sanzo’s neck tightly as his whole body shook.
Sanzo’s cock was dripping. This was torment of the worst kind: though his mind recoiled at the thought, his body was more than ready and willing to thrust inside that eager, pulsing hole. He’d really let the sick freak have (what’s coming to him, right up his ass) a piece of his mind if he wasn’t gagged, but he was, and his mouth was dry around the bit, his jaw ached, and he tried again to tug free of his bonds but of course it was useless. He wondered for a delirious moment if they were really there, or if it was another one of Dougan’s illusions.
The rattle of chains drew Dougan’s attention, and he lowered his chin to regard the priest through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Are you getting impatient?” he asked, laughing breathlessly. “I always knew you wanted Dougan, your faithful servant--I waited desperately for a word from you, Sanzo-sama, a touch... Was it that you were afraid to corrupt me?”
That earned an angry, incredulous noise from Sanzo, because Dougan had certainly corrupted himself without any help, and in much worse ways than fucking the head priest of his temple would have done.
Dougan laughed again, haltingly, as the blond’s copy continued to finger-fuck him with single-minded intensity, yet maintained that same sluggish pace that Sanzo could see driving Dougan wild as the younger man rubbed a palm over his own nipple.
‘Fucking bitch cock-tease,’ Sanzo wanted to snarl, but the metal of the bit contacted his teeth too painfully when he tried, and it was so much easier to let his mouth hang slack, to worry only about drawing the next breath, and the next. “Do it,” he hissed around the gag, and that much must have been articulate enough, because Dougan smiled down at him coyly.
He was never certain just how that moment transitioned to the next, but then Dougan was straddling him and sinking down onto his cock. A sharp noise worked its way up Sanzo’s throat and his back arched, he was gasping for air and his vision swam; Dougan leaned over him with shallow, pained breaths, his hands fisted in the blond’s cassock at his chest, and Sanzo thought that under normal circumstances he’d never suffer such a thing, but these were far from normal circumstances. His arms chained to the wall above his head, that fucking aphrodisiac pulsing through his veins, and he didn’t really want to get away from the too-satisfying give of the other man’s body after all, so he shifted his hips and thrust up into Dougan with a growl.
Dougan cried out uncomfortably, but it was no more than he deserved, the little bitch. “Ohh, oh, Sanzo-sama,” he groaned, and Sanzo gave it to him again, and again, his blood burning and his body caught up in the mindless pursuit of orgasm. This was a horrible idea, wrong on so many levels but he couldn’t stop, his cock was achingly hard and the man above him was so hot and tight, and he couldn’t stop.
Like a bitch in heat Dougan was keening and panting, whining for it as Sanzo continued to drive up into him, “Sanzo-sama, I--I can’t...” Sanzo saw himself move in behind Dougan and wrap his arms around him, a hand securely on Dougan’s chest and a hand on his dick. Sanzo watched that hand--his hand, with the fingerless black glove, the silver ring--because it was better than watching Dougan’s face, and he grimaced because it would have been so much easier (more satisfying) to flip the other man onto his back and really pound into him.
Sweat ran down Sanzo’s temple. It soaked into his clothing and he knew even after it was all over and he was able to shower, able to wash the filth from him, the smell would linger and he’d be sickened by his weakness and the fact that he allowed himself to be put in this position in the first place. But right now he couldn’t get enough of it, Dougan whimpered and Sanzo’s balls tightened at the sound.
When Sanzo came this time, it was with a fierce string of expletives which was made inarticulate by the bit between his teeth. Dougan made some utterly indecent noise, only half-heard, as the blond emptied himself deep inside him, and it took just a few more strokes from his Sanzo-double to send him over the edge with a drawn out cry.
The position was hell, there was no leverage to speak of, and his wrists felt rubbed raw from the shackles; even so, Sanzo had to admit to himself that the sex hadn’t been bad--might have been convinced to admit it aloud, if he thought it would get Dougan to let him go. Mercifully, he felt the gag untied and the bit pulled from his mouth. Dougan made no move to climb off him, though, and Sanzo winced at the continued contact of over-stimulated flesh. Grimaced, when he realized the goddamn drugs hadn’t worked their way out of his system yet.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded hoarsely, narrowing one eye as he glanced warily up at the creepy costumed deviant. Because, honestly: depraved, all-night fuck-fests were more Gojyo’s thing, and if he had thought for a second that he’d be able to get away with it, Sanzo wouldn’t have hesitated to offer the kappa up as a sacrificial lamb.
Dougan laughed, bent over him to tenderly stroke the sweat-damp golden hair from his face as he smiled down at him, and whether it was the look in his eyes or the smile or some combination of the two, something wasn’t all ‘there.’
“Just Sanzo-sama. That’s all I ever wanted.” With the tip of his tongue, he traced the shell of Sanzo’s ear, then chased tongue with whispered words. “I’ll make sure you never, ever forget me again.”
~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
Creepy stalker...ftw?!? D:
The next one will be Goku/Sanzo, I promise guys. DDD: