Konzen Douji... The mere pronouncing of the name set a thousand excited moths aflutter in Homura's stomach.

A final inspection in the mirror assured Homura that he was dressed to kill and aiming to please. Shiny boots, clean jeans, black spandex, new pearls (However much he adored Konzen, he wasn't going to use his real pearls on this date. Not with what he had planned.), and his cloak freshly cleaned and ironed. He'd even ordered Shien to polish his shackles to a refined shine. That particular experience was one Homura planned to repeat; the sheer sensuality in seeing Shien's nimble fingers manipulate the chain-links with a piece of cloth was enough to make any man hot and bothered.

Homura grabbed the little gift he'd prepared for Konzen and teleported off to the inn. There he had rented the biggest and best room they had, in advance of course, complete with a very nice bathroom. He had even secretly replaced Hakkai's map with a better one, to make absolutely sure that Konzen and his band of merry men found the right inn at the right night.

The room was magnificent. The inn staff had met his every demand; from the understated elegance of the bedsheets in white and purple, accented with red, to the fresh-cut flowers and the sakura-scented candles, right down to the heart-shaped little soaps in the bathroom. Homura made a mental note to leave a generous tip for them.

A quick bout of divine divination later, he had located Konzen to a room on the floor below. The reincarnated kami was sitting on the windowsill, gazing out upon the world. Not even the Seiten Taisei, drenched in blood and smiling that desperately sexy 'I'll tear you all limb-from-limb and bathe sensuously in your blood'-smile of his could compare to the raw sex-appeal of Konzen draped in a window. Time to go fetch.

"Konzen Douji..."

Sanzou nearly jumped out of the window. He really, really hated it when Homura snuck up on him like that. At least with the lightshow-and-fanfare teleports, you knew what was coming and could arrange your features into the proper scowl. The quiet teleports, on the other hand, were upsetting as all hell and made Sanzou look like an idiot. "Fuck! What the HELL do you want this time?!" he snapped at the vision in black and purple.

"I have prepared a suite for us on this moonlight bella notte," Homura informed his paramour in his best Barry White voice.

"You fucking perverted loon! One, what the hell is this 'us' shit; two, what the fuck is a 'bella notte' -- woulda made more sense if you'd said a bully nutter! And for the last motherfucking time, MY NAME IS NOT KONZEN!!!" Sanzou howled, already red in his face and with several veins threatening to pop. How dare the chain gang freak disturb Sanzou's me-time?! What was a priest to do to get some decent posing time around here, eh? Eh?!

Homura thought his heart would burst with joy, for he knew in his soul that Konzen wouldn't spend that much energy yelling unless it was at someone he cared for. He grabbed Konzen's face with his hands, and assaulted the smoke-and-beer tasting lips with a fiery kiss. Only an outraged "Mmmrph!!!" and a faint aroma of smoke and singed lips were left to linger in the room, as Homura teleported the two of them upstairs.

When the sparkles, because Homura felt that this occasion called for some classy SFX, lazily winked out, Sanzou had his trusty gun firmly pressed against Homura's temple, and his fingers gingerly touching his sore lips.

"Die, bastard!"

"Oh, Konzen -- sorry, Sanzou," Homura said in a sightly chiding voice. "Must you always be so violent?"

Homura gently pushed the gun away, even as Sanzou pulled the trigger furiously. The bullets did as little damage as always, and soon the merry sound (well not to Sanzou, obviously) of a hammer hitting empty chambers filled the room, loud bangs fading into memory.

"It fucking HURT, you idiot!" Sanzou yelled, and painfully regretted the labio-dental fricative that slipped over his abused lip.

A sudden expression of 'oops' flitted across Homura's elegant features, and he eyed Sanzou's poor mouth. "Oh dear, I guess that kiss was a bit too hot for you. Here, let me fix that..."

Sanzou tried to sneer, but it hurt too much. Let the bastard fix his lips, then bite his god-damn wandering fingers off! Good plan.

It wasn't much point in being a god if you couldn't do the occasional miracle, and Homura had his share of tricks with which to awe and amuse the mortals. All it took was for him to touch Konzen's, sorry, Sanzou's lips with a divine finger and breathe a nonsensical word that was actually Sanskrit for 'flounder', and hey presto -- instant healing! He even added a few flower petals for extra effect, since it was supposed to be a romantic night and all.

"There, better now?" he breathed.

Sanzou glowered. "What the hell do you take me for, asshole? I'm not a sodding girl, so will you just quit it with the damn wussy-ass sparkles and petals?!"

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Homura smirked and tightened his grip on Sanzou's gun hand, forcing him to let it drop to the floor. "You don't need that thing tonight, Ko ... Sanzou. I will protect you without fail, should anything or anyone unwanted happen," he murmured.

Sanzou found himself being forced backwards, until they reached the window. Feeling Homura press so close to him, from head to toe, made his skin tingle and long ignored embers awaken in the pit of his belly. "I don't need your fucking protection, bastard," he groused sullenly.

"Of course you don't," Homura agreed readily and ran a hand through Sanzou's golden mop of hair."Look," he whispered and forced his date's head around by pulling at his hair. "Look at the beautiful full moon, Genjou Sanzou. I wish you could see yourself as I can see you; how the moonlight spills about your features and caresses your sunray tresses..."

Sanzou knew perfectly well that he was a hot piece of eye-candy, but the bad romantic blather Homura was spewing forth nearly made him gag. "Shut the fuck up, you're ruining my moonlight."

Surprisingly, Homura did shut up and just pressed seductively up against the irate (but sexy) priest. Said priest was finding it rather difficult to concentrate upon the glory of the full moon, what with the tinglish sensation all over his skin and those hot war god lips currently nibbling on his earlobe. It must be some kind of full moon sickness, Sanzou decided. Clearly, that was the only reason he was having a most mighty arousal happening within the far too confined space of his trousers.

Since they were engaged in wanton posing up against the windowsill, bathed in moonlight and shadow, it took but moments before they were both ashiver with desire. Homura threw all pretences of patience away, and started stripping Sanzou of his gloves and his spandex shirt. The pale perfection underneath nearly set his pants on fire, so he had to take a brief moment to seal away the fiery parts of his ki. It just wouldn't do for his jade sceptre to burst into flame at the wrong moment.

Sanzou, on the other hand, fought a brief mental battle with himself. Homura was an annoying pest, all smug and smarmy and mightier-than-thou, always hitting on him and Gokuu, and always, ALWAYS looking perfectly styled and gorgeous while doing so. It was enough to make any self-respecting emissary of the gods fume with envy. Dammit, the bastard even wore the same spandex numbers that Sanzou had thought the sole province of, well, Sanzous. Getting jiggy with this creep just wasn't right! Not when said creep by now had several chapters to himself in Sanzou's personal Book of Grudges.

But, insisted Sanzou's groin, there's hot sex to be had and you don't have to do a thing! I mean, look at him! He's as horny as a mountain billygoat, and he's all over you and will you get a feel on that thing in his trousers?! The man's either hung like a stallion, or he's got a Thermos flask stuffed down the front. And besides, he's got several hundred years' worth of experience, so we're in for a real treat, mate. You can always kill him in the morning, you know.

Well, Sanzou's rapidly fading mind allowed, the groin had made several intriguing points. He could always kill Homura in the morning.

With groin and mind thus in agreement, Sanzou wasted no more time stalling and made it clear to Homura that he was ready to be well ravished by moonlight.

There followed much intense groping, kissing, more groping and general clammy fondling of various body parts, and things were going very well for the moonstruck lovers. All up until Sanzou tried to pull Homura's shirt off...

"What the fuck?" sounded Sanzou's incredulous voice as he tugged at the spandex.

"Oh crap," quoth Homura embarrassedly.

"It's not coming off! Your damn shackles are in the way! What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Rip it off like so much gift wrapping paper?" Sanzou was mightily annoyed. This was the stupidest thing...

"Uh, well..." muttered Homura, trying to kick his lust-addled brain into gear. "Yes! Yes, you're supposed to tear it off. Feel free to use your teeth if you like!" Really, this was all a part of the master plan. Dredge up the smuggest of the knowing smiles, paste it on and pray he buys it.

Not. A. Chance. Sanzou snorted in disgust, and tugged at the new and extra set of shackles binding Homura's wrists together. This one made from a shiny black fabric with exceptional stretching capabilities. "I can't believe you've worn the same fucking shirt for five hundred sodding years! Do you have any idea how utterly repulsive that is?!" he growled.

Homura's cheeks took on a most vibrant shade of red. "But but... It's not what you think! It's not like that at all! I'm a kami, and we don't ever change our outfits (except for Kanzeon; she's got this hot little cocktail number for special occasions, and Field Marshall Tenpou, who had a lab coat fetish), it's part of the package! Our clothes are self-rinsing and regenerate at a phenomenal speed, even here on earth. It's not as if you Sanzou priests haven't got a similar deal!" Homura wailed, desperately trying to divert the oncoming trainwreck.

Sanzou's expression went stony. Slowly and through gritted teeth, he ground out, "It's just the damn robe and the shirt and the gloves, fuckwad, so don't even try to lump me in with you nasty kamis!"

Homura wisely decided to not push the points about reincarnation and emissary of the gods right there and then. Instead, he looked at the fabric binding his arms together with a beady eye.

FWOOMPH!

The smell of incinerated spandex filled the room, but the scented candles immediately rose to the challenge and a fierce battle for olfactory supremacy started.

Sanzou jumped and cursed up another blue streak. "Careful, you idiot! You could've singed my lily-white baby skin!"

Homura just smirked, and slipped his chain around Sanzou to make sure he couldn't get away. "I will never singe a single hair on your body, except when you ask it of me, ... Genjou Sanzou," he purred.

With a snort Sanzou planted his hands on Homura's chest, refusing to be drawn close. "You think you're so damn smooth, you sleazy prick. Why don't you just own up -- you've never even thought about how to get that shirt off you, have you?"

His voice took on a nasty, poisonous quality as he continued, "I bet that's because you've never had the opportunity to do so. You've been a bottom boy all your life, haven't you? That's why you're after me, 'cause I'm physically weaker than you, right?"

"No!" Homura yelled, face growing all red and puffy again. "That's not true! NOT TRUE! I'm the Warprince, I'm totally a top!"

"As if. I bet that Konzen guy you keep yammering about ... I bet he rode your ass so hard..." Sanzou pressed on mercilessly.

Homura blinked in rapt astonishment. "Don't be stupid, Sanzou. Konzen didn't even know what an ass was; and he certainly didn't know how to use one. Or any other interesting body parts for that matter. Now please stop talking so that I can get on with the ravishing here. The moon's starting to slip away!"

And with that massive effort to regain his tattered authority, Homura enveloped Sanzou in his strong, manly arms and assaulted the priest's lips with hot, but not actually fiery, kisses. Their two groins suddenly remembered that there was supposed to be some hot lovin' going on, and passion surged with renewed fervour.

---

The next morning, Homura awoke first and felt mighty good. The full moon date had been a success, despite the embarrassing interlude with his shirt. Thankfully, Sanzou had muttered a piece of very useful advice before he fell asleep. Velcro shoulder seams was the answer to that little problem. He'd have to get a new shirt custom made anyway, since the old one had failed to miraculously regenerate over night on account of there being nothing left to regenerate from.

Well, it was time to get moving, no matter how much he regretted not sticking around until Konzen, uh, Sanzou woke up. Homura slipped quietly, and with minimal chainlink rustle, out of bed and tiptoed around to gather up his clothes. As he donned his cloak, he felt something heavy in its pocket. Oh! He'd completely forgotten the little gift he'd prepared for his beau. Well, better late than never, he thought to himself, and placed it on the bedside table -- right next to his lover's gun.

Sanzou blinked lazily as he felt Homura's lips brush against the nape of his neck. Normally he would have pushed the trespasser away, but he was feeling way too relaxed and generous at that moment. His groin had been right the night before, it had been the best sex ever -- and Homura'd done all the hard work. Who cared if he'd been the bumboy for all of Heaven? Certainly not Genjou Sanzou!

As Homura readied himself to teleport away, Sanzou sat up to inspect the thing left on the bedside table. It was a small, heavy box wrapped in bright purple paper, with an equally bright red bow on it. A shaking of the wee box revealed that there were moving parts within. Stupid kami leaving a frelling morning gift! Sanzou felt his ire raise at the thought. As if he was some fucking concubine! The cheek!! The nerve!!!

He shot Homura, who had stopped to watch the gift-unwrapping expectantly, a mutinous glare, but opened the gift nonetheless. When he emptied its contents into his hand, he could only stare at it in slack-jawed awe. Six gorgeously hand crafted .38 bullets lay in his palm. Heavy and cool to the touch, tipped with the crystalline alloy of platinum and paradoxium, engraved with mantras of gory death.

"Kami-killers," Sanzou whispered in breathless awe. "They're beautiful..." He looked up at Homura with a strange light in his eyes.

Homura smiled, feeling very relieved that his gift had hit home. "I am glad you like them," he murmured. Glad indeed, because convincing Zenon to craft those bullets had cost him dearly, and he'd rather not think about it any more, thank you very much. "I had them hand made especially for you."

Sanzou let his eyes feast on the bare-chested Prince of War, and then looked back at the bullets. Homura had given him kami-killers. Such ammunition was the only material thing Sanzou would ever admit to himself that he had really wanted. He felt funny, all warm and gooey inside; his heart felt like it was suddenly five sizes too big for his chest, and there was this lump in his throat and ... and there were these hot, big, demanding hands on his body and...

---

An hour later, Homura again readied to leave. He smiled the smug smirk of a kami who's gotten more than a little lucky, as his eyes devoured the luxurious, half-sleeping form of Sanzou sprawling on the bed one last time.

"Okay, you bastard, I'll be yours. But if I ever catch you ogling another sentient being, I'll fucking shoot you with the love-bullets you gave me," Sanzou growled sleepily.

Homura felt his heart yodle with joy. "Never fear, Konzen. I only have eyes for you," he proclaimed and bamfed back to his hijacked castle.

Back at the inn, Sanzou peered carefully around before he chanced a small twitch of his mouth. Life was, at that particular moment, tolerable...