“Hi, Sanzo! I’m glad you’re home.”
It was strange how comforting those six words were, Sanzo thought as he leaned over (but far less than he used to) to kiss those enticing lips. For a few minutes, those lips, and the power behind them, sucked all coherent thought out of him.
Goku broke away first, licking his lips. When did he become the more fucking self-controlled of the two of them? “I’ve got hot pot and rice cooking,” he said.
Sanzo walked into the kitchen and glared at the food cooking on the stove. In the old days (which weren’t so old), the amount Goku was cooking wouldn’t have been enough for him, let alone the two of them, even taking into account Sanzo’s abstemious appetite – for food, at least.
Sanzo sighed. When he’d asked Goku about his apparent lack of appetite, he’d only laughed and said his appetite for food had diminished now that his other appetite was being satisfied. The thing was, Sanzo found his own appetite both for food and that other thing -- okay, let’s call it by its name: for sex -- increasing.
He blamed Goku for it entirely. The kid – wait, he couldn’t really call him a kid anymore, could he? – was insatiable and terribly persuasive. Sanzo found himself taking, or being taken by, Goku in just about every imaginable place in their home, and a few unimaginable places too. On (or maybe the better word was draped over) the dining room table? Check. In the shower? Check. In the closet? Check. It was to the point where Sanzo was beginning to feel the difference in their ages and innate strength more than ever before.
Sanzo had the sense to take advantage of Shangri-la’s impulse to lay the world at their feet as heroes for ending the Minus Wave to the extent of having a small cottage built for them on the grounds of the temple. That way, they could have some fucking privacy. Not that Goku needed it, especially, other than for those private things he and Sanzo did together, but it made Sanzo happy (or at least happier – or was less unhappy a better way to put it?) to have a place to come home to that was off-limits to everyone else.
It also made Sanzo happy that the responsibility for running Keiun wasn’t handed back to him upon his return. Perhaps the powers-that-be had realized that he was even less well-suited for that task than he had been before. After years on the road fighting for his very life (and sometimes that of his companions, not that he’d admit that out loud), he was restless and unfocused in a way that would have led him to resent being forced to assume the head priesthood again.
As it was, he was expected to show up in his office in the temple daily during the week to meet pilgrims and share his (ha!) insights. He even gave talks and led classes for the monks and novices occasionally. Thankfully, no one tried to saddle him with any pupils.
Given his stature – their stature - there’d been very little murmuring at Goku’s return to the temple. Everyone knew how much they owed him, how stopping the Minus Wave wouldn’t have been possible without his strength of body and character. In fact, he was far better known, and more popular, among the children of Chang’an and Shangri-la than Sanzo was. He kept busy keeping the physical plant at the temple going and doing odd constructions jobs around town. A bit amusing, really, considering how much demolition he’d been engaged in along the way and at Houtou Castle.
There wasn’t even much murmuring at his sharing the cottage with Sanzo. Some people accepted it at face value, as guardian and grown-up and much less annoying charge living together as a family unit, and others shrugged their shoulders and figured that after what they’d been through and what they’d accomplished, they were entitled to a little happiness as well as privacy. Those who considered it a scandal that a Sanzo priest flaunted his homosexual relationship with a former ward who was also youkai, or the next best thing to it, knew they were in the minority and kept it to themselves.
As he stood in their kitchen, Sanzo wondered how Goku had changed him from someone who couldn’t stand to be touched into a sex maniac, or at least that’s what it felt like. Unlike the perverted kappa, however, he didn’t try to bed half the town on top of his lover.
Maybe it was the way Goku had broken down his defenses that had changed him. He had never paid any attention to those carefully erected walls Sanzo had constructed to separate himself from the rest of the world so he’d never again experience the pain of loss. If what that hag Kanzeon had to say about it (and Hakkai too, damn him) was true, maybe that’s why he’d heard Goku’s voice and had freed him from his cruel captivity in the first place.
Speaking of erections, Sanzo decided that after that kiss, his other appetite needed slaking. Right now. He pulled Goku away from the stove toward the living room, where the couch, he’d discovered, was far more comfortable than, say, the kitchen floor.
“What about dinner?” Goku said.
Sanzo paused and turned the heat on the stove down. “It can wait.”