Title: Time Out
Author: Mosh
Pairing: Gojyo/Zakuro
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Quick bathroom breaks are meant to be straightforward, right? Not if you're Gojyo.
Disclaimer: Minekura Kazuya owns these guys. No money being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement intended.
Email: moshesque(at)gmail(dot)com
Website: http://mosh.snarky-slytherin.net/
A/N: I don't write Gojyo often, but when I do I'm always reminded how much fun he can be. Also, there is always room for more Zakuro, IMO! This takes into account certain scenes in Reload 6. With thanks and love to Akuni for the beta, and for listening to me ramble and squee while I wrote this. 5600 words.

"Where the hell are you going?" Sanzo glared up from his spot beside the campfire.

"Not that it's any of your business," said Gojyo, turning on his heel and walking backwards towards the dense trees, "but I was gonna go take a slash out the way of pryin' eyes. Is that okay with you, your Highness? Or would you like to come with me, maybe hold it for me while I piss?"

"Ch, fuck off." Sanzo turned his supercilious gaze back to his crumpled newspaper. "Just don't be late back, or we'll leave without you."

"Yeah, Gojyo, hurry up or I'll miss dinner," Goku piped up, tossing a handful of deep red berries into the air and catching them in his mouth. "I wanna get to the next town before I starve to death."

"I think I agree with Goku. We haven't eaten a proper meal for days and we have a fair way before we reach the base of the mountain. Do try not to dawdle, Gojyo." Hakkai offered a little wave.

Honestly, anyone would think he was going off to take an extended tour of the forest or something. As if he'd stay there any longer than he absolutely had to.

"Fine, fine. Jeez, you're all so freaking pushy today." Gojyo gave Hakkai a short wave in return, then turned and headed into the undergrowth. "It's not like I'm not starvin', too," he grumbled to himself, inadvertently stubbing the toes of his boots against littered pine needles as he walked. They went shooting off into the brush like large brown bullets. Slipping his hand in his jeans pocket, he drew out his Hi-Lites and tapped one out, perching it on his lower lip.

Every bloody where he looked all he could see were poisonous plants or sharp twigs and branches. No way in hell was he going to pull out his piece under such dangerous circumstances – he depended on that thing, after all. He supposed he had to hand it to Hakkai for the quick lesson in botany, otherwise he probably would've ended up scratching a bad dick rash for weeks. It was one thing to have a well-adjusted cock, but entirely another to have one that glowed in the dark. Man, that just didn't bear thinking about.

Gojyo paused to light his cigarette, cupping his hand up to his mouth and then blowing out a billow of tangy smoke. The first draw in clear mountain air was always a shot to the brain, but in a good way – Gojyo loved the headrush. As he stood pondering his options, eyeing a slightly greener patch of leaves that might not be as lethal as the pretty, reddish-brown plants Hakkai had warned him about, he began picking up a faint whooshing noise straight ahead.

"The hell is that?" he muttered, stuffing his Hi-Lites and lighter back into his pocket and transferring his cigarette from his mouth to his fingers. It sounded like running water – could there possibly be a stream or something nearby? That would be a welcome discovery, plus Gojyo could have a quick wash and drink before they set off again for another afternoon of tedious travel. Maybe, if he was feeling magnanimous when he got back to camp, he'd tell Sanzo about the stream. Then again, maybe not – the guy was snippier than ever and seemed to direct most of it at Gojyo. Gojyo figured he was either antsy about the big black rain clouds that'd been floating in the direction they were headed, or simply PMSing. Probably both, knowing the monk.

Throwing caution to the wind, he quickly unzipped and took care of business in the patch of non–dangerous-looking plants. Once relieved, Gojyo reholstered his piece and trekked toward the rushing sound, batting at low hanging vines and feeling hopeful for the first time in hours. Emerging into a narrow clearing, he was pleased to find a brook running haphazardly among the trees, its water clear, the surface shimmering and sparkling in the rays of sunlight that pierced the darkening clouds above. The storm was moving closer, but for now, Gojyo had no intention of hurrying.

"Ho, this is more like it." Stepping up to the stream's edge, Gojyo grinned liberally at his find. "Fuckin'-A, man."

There was a sudden gasp followed by a plop, like a stone being cast into the water. Gojyo spun around, one hand clutching his Hi-Lite, the other curving to summon his shakujo.

"You!" said a voice.

"Eh, a youkai?" Gojyo frowned at the man crouching on the opposite side of the brook. He appeared to be dunking something in the water – some kind of windbreak or garment.

"This is interesting," said the youkai as he rose to his feet, wearing nothing but some tight-assed leather trousers. Gojyo was unable to resist running an appraising gaze down the length of the guy's sinewy torso, to the low slung leathers, then back up. "Very interesting. So, we meet again, Sha Gojyo!"

"Eh?" Gojyo repeated, his frown deepening. "Do I know you, man?" Something about the guy was familiar, but Gojyo couldn't place it. "Did we used to play cards at Hooters? I think I remember a dude with green hair–"

"Ore-sama does not lower himself to levels of gambling and cavorting, especially not with the likes of you." The youkai curled his lips slowly in distaste. "By the way, you stink. I can smell you from here."

"Huh, fuckin' charmed to meet you too," Gojyo grumbled. "It ain't like I haven't just had my ass dragged half way across Shangri-la."

"Hm, yes, well, that's what you get for being part of Sanzo's troublesome group." The youkai glanced down and then made a sudden, frantic dive for the object he'd been dipping in the water as it began to slide off the bank and be carried down stream. Dragging the sopping wet mass out of the brook, the youkai stared at it with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. "My coat got dirty on my way through the forest," he explained when he looked up and caught Gojyo watching him. He shook the coat, raining waterdrops all over the ground.

"Right," Gojyo said slowly, pretty sure from the guy's tone of voice that there was more to the story. The coat was torn in places, like it'd been caught on crags of rock or maybe sharp branches. Now that he thought about it, the guy had scratches on his body – thin red lines running along parallel to his ribs and one that curved directly across his flat stomach. Gojyo was so used to scars of all shapes and sizes he'd barely registered them at first, but now that he looked at them, they appeared fresh.

The muscles beneath the guy's skin jumped and tensed where Gojyo was staring. Fair play, Gojyo's attention lingered there perhaps longer than was necessary, but hell – weeks with nobody to look at but the grumpy monk, the bottomless monkey, and his best friend, and Gojyo found it hard not to check out the ripped youkai guy.

"Ore-sama doesn't recall giving you permission to stare at him in such a way," the youkai grated, distracting Gojyo from the pleasant view. As he spoke, he slipped his soggy leather coat on his back and tied the thick metal buckles at the front, securing them across his chest. Damn, but those things looked kinky as hell to Gojyo. "I think it's time for you to die now."

"Wha-?" Gojyo gawped at him, aware something weird was happening to the forest around them.

"That's it, look into my eyes," said the youkai. That was when Gojyo finally placed him.

"Wait, I know you – you're that loser we ditched months ago. Uh, the illusion guy, right?" Arching an eyebrow, Gojyo nodded, confirming his own observation. "Yeah, that's right. Hakkai dropped you in the shit with your friends. Haha, that was fucking hilarious."

"Why, you!" The youkai – Zakuro, that was his name! - glared daggers across the brook. "I was considering going easy on you, what with you being such a weak and pitiful opponent, but now I think I'll go all-out. It won't just be a flaming arm you'll have to worry about this time, little brother of Dokugakuji!"

"Nah, nah, man, there ain't nothin' little about me. Anyway, Sanzo already told us how to deal with you." Gojyo waved his hand vaguely in the direction he'd just walked. "I ain't worried about bein' set on fire again. You'll have to try somethin' else. Anyway, can't we do this shit some other time? I only just got here." He pointed down at the brook ambling comfortably through the forest, figuring the indication would speak louder than words. "Much as I'd like to kick your ass, and all."

Zakuro, fists balled at his sides, shook his pretty head slowly. "Ore-sama doesn't think so. Do you really believe I'd let one of the infamous Sanzo ikkou get off scot free? After what you did to my reputation?"

"Hey, I didn't say it – Hakkai did! Not that you'd stand a chance against him, either. That guy can be pretty damn sneaky when he wants to be." Gojyo let out a breezy laugh and puffed on his cigarette. The trees that had begun looming taller and growing black in his periphery had reverted to normal. Whatever this Zakuro guy had planned, he'd clearly changed his mind. Good job, too – Gojyo wasn't in the mood to navigate through some freaky version of an already confusing-as-hell forest, especially not with those dark clouds moving in above them. In the distance, there was a frustrated rumble of thunder.

Now Zakuro looked seriously pissed. "Enough of this! After I kill you, I might just kill your precious brother too, traitor that he is."

"Hey, Jien's a good guy, under all that joining Kougaiji's side shit."

"Everyone knows him and Yaone have gone against Gyokumen Koushou's orders, hindering the prince's mission and interfering where they're not welcome. That is a crime punishable by death, you know." Zakuro smiled at one side of his mouth, raising a hand and extending his taloned fingers to Gojyo. He made a quick clutching motion. "Now, I'll have you begging for mercy, Sha Goj–"

"We were right, he's here!" said a new, much gruffer voice from the shadowed trees behind Zakuro.

"Aw shit, not more idiots," Gojyo mumbled, finishing up his Hi-Lite and dropping it to the ground. Not looking down, he stubbed the butt with his boot heel. "Doll me up in my bad luck. Feh, Sanzo'd probably laugh at me if he could see this."

Zakuro had spun on the spot, his leather coat swirling and then coming to rest at his calves. Four burly youkai men materialised from the trees, fanning out in a neat semi-circle around him. Gojyo watched all this from the other side of the brook, glad that at least there was that separating him and the others. It'd buy him a little time, when things kicked off.

"Zakuro the Illusionist," said the youkai on the far right, the biggest of the four with gangly arms covered in thick brown hair. Yellow eyes stared knives at Zakuro. "You are charged with treason and conspiracy to give up information to the Sanzo ikkou. We're here to bring you in. Lord Kougaiji would have words with you."

If Gojyo wasn't mistaken, he was sure he could hear glee in the youkai's voice. Typical lackeys only looking for a step up the ladder. There was no difference between humans and youkai when it came to politics.

"Heh, Shardik, I'm glad you're here." Zakuro took one small step backward, and Gojyo rolled his eyes, immediately noting the mistake. "I've been looking forward to putting that vicious rumour to rest. It was not I, Zakuro, who betrayed our kind, but merely a disgusting lie concocted by one of the very people we hunt."

"That's not what we heard from the Imperial guard," the guy named Shardik said, taking a large, beastlike step forward to overshadow Zakuro's second pace back. "Apparently, you were caught fighting your own kind with one of the Sanzo party – nay, I misspoke. I believe it was protecting one of the Sanzo party, as the news travels."

"Ah, that," said Zakuro. Gojyo couldn't see his face from where he was standing, but he would wager that Zakuro was trying to smile convincingly. "I must confess, Shardik my good man, I had no knowledge of who the lad was when we were attacked. I thought he was a lost soul wandering the woods. If I'd known he was one of the Sanzo ikkou, I surely would have obliterated him right there and then."

The youkai grinned without a hint of compassion. "Well, that will be up to the prince to decide."

"Eh, Shardik," said one of the other youkai, this one slighter and weasely. "Isn't that...?" To Gojyo's lack of surprise, the guy pointed across the brook.

"Congrats for getting with the program," Gojyo said, smirking as he curled the fingers of his right hand once more. This time, he summoned shakujo to his fist. "Looks like you caught him at it again. Oh yeah, Zakuro here loves me and the guys. Ain't that right, friend?"

Zakuro tossed Gojyo a murderous look over his shoulder. "Shut up, you idiot!" he hissed.

"I have to say, Lord Kougaiji will be most displeased." Shardik advanced on Zakuro. "I'll deal with this one. Boys, you get the redhead. Oh, and cut me off his scalp to present to the prince."

"Gotcha, boss," the three lackeys chorused.

Gojyo was ready for them when they came leaping over the brook, taking an almighty swing with his shakujo, extending the chain so that the moon-shaped blade sliced out toward them. The youkai were quick, though – much quicker than a lot of the dunderheaded lugs he'd come up against in the past. They were agile, too, easily spinning mid-flight and dodging out of the blade's path.

"Fuck," Gojyo spat, as one of them landed on the ground behind him. "All right, if you nancies want me to take this more seriously..."

In the background, Gojyo could hear Zakuro spouting off more excuses to the hulk called Shardik, who seemed to be a high-ranker in Kougaiji's personal army. It would've been funny if Gojyo wasn't having to dodge talons and sharp, snapping teeth.

"Get 'im, Gorgath!" one of the attackers screeched. A figure appeared to Gojyo's left and he felt a hot, sour breath beat against his cheek.

"Ugh, man, that's fucking rank." Raising his shakujo, Gojyo blocked the bite, and not a moment too soon – the youkai snagged Gojyo's jacket sleeve with its fangs and tore off a strip of material. "Jeez, do ya have any fuckin' idea how hard these things are to come by out here? That's real suede, you prick!"

A thunderbolt barrelled across the sky directly above, drowning out all other noise. To Gojyo's supreme delight, one of the youkai jumped on the spot and got a sudden nosebleed. Not that it stopped the bastard. Gojyo swung his shakujo wide, then brought it back up for another round. A jagged blade of lightning pierced the moody sky and scattered like veins, leaving a spiny, creeping after-image on Gojyo's eyelids every time he blinked.

He could only imagine how much Sanzo would be whining by now.

Before Gojyo could relish the thought, he found himself ducking another attack, as all three youkai sprang at him at once. Another crazed flicker of lightning struck as thunder roared angrily; it sounded like the sky was trying to come down upon the world.

Gojyo heard Zakuro yell something, but he wasn't sure what. Then everything exploded.

At first, Gojyo wasn't sure what the hell was going on. There was a bang and a crash from above that wasn't thunder, a sound that was more deadly than just the weather. The three youkai paused, staring at him, then at each other, then back to him again.

"You had enough?" Gojyo growled, but didn't really feel his taunt. A steady, worn creak rang from above them, like an ancient door being opened, or a tree about to fa–

Oh, shit.

The youkai scattered, leaving Gojyo standing on his own, right in the path of the massive tree that was about to come crashing down. He risked a glance up, trying to gauge the best direction to head to avoid getting crushed. The top of the tree was alight from where the lightning had hit it and a large chunk was on its eager way to the ground.

"Aw hell, I ain't ever takin' a piss in the forest again," Gojyo bit out, turning and hightailing along the bank of the brook. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see figures on the opposite side, saw one of them break away and also make a dash for it in the same direction.

That lazy, creaking tumble climaxed in a ground-shaking thud, as the greater part of the tree landed. One of the youkai let out a wet scream. Looked like he picked the wrong way to run, not that Gojyo particularly cared. As he ran, he again saw the person on the other bank, keeping pace with him – was it one of the lackeys? Gojyo couldn't tell, refused to take his eyes off the uneven ground lest he fall and really suffer. Then the person leaped across the brook, jolting Gojyo and almost making him stumble.

"Watch it, man! I'm runnin' here!"

"Get out of my way," Zakuro shouted. "This is all your fault!"

"I wasn't the one those guys were after. Well, not originally, anyway." Gojyo huffed and puffed, his legs aching as he stumbled over the ragged terrain. They dashed into the trees, low-hanging twigs scratching Gojyo's face and neck like little bee stings. He ignored them, kept moving – if he stopped, he knew he wouldn't be able to pick up pace again. Man, he'd kill for a cigarette about now.

"Just shut up, will you! Look." Zakuro pointed ahead. Through the murk of the trees, Gojyo spotted it too – what looked like a cave just off to their right, its mouth opening out on the brook where the water flow was a little wider. It looked as good a place as any to take cover. Hell, anywhere would do for now, what with the strobe of lightning still digging at the sky, and the vicious shouts of the youkai behind them as they tried to figure out which way to follow.

Gojyo was almost at the cave when Zakuro cut in front of him, sticking his arm out as if to block Gojyo's entrance. "Where do you think you're going?"

Gojyo chugged to a halt, tossing him an incredulous look. "In there, smart boy. Where d'you think?"

"Ore-sama doesn't think so. I saw this cave first."

"Ehh, cut the ore-sama bullshit, Zakuro." Pushing Zakuro's arm aside, Gojyo headed into the cave, bracing one hand against a damp, mossy wall while he caught his breath. "Feel like my fucking lungs are turnin' inside out." He drew out his Hi-Lite packet.

"You're unbelievable." Zakuro was hanging around the mouth of the cave, peering out into the brush. As the storm cloud ambled overhead, the light faded to a grumpy dusk. The forest outside grew more shadowed, which Gojyo supposed he should be glad about – less chance those youkai guys would spot them.

Just how did his day get so messed up so quickly? Feh!

Gojyo thought about the others, imagining the monkey back at camp, complaining about dying of hunger or falling in a puddle and drowning or somesuch. No doubt Sanzo would be bitching, ordering Hakkai to pack up Jeep and leave. Gojyo couldn't see them hanging around in the rain for him. Damnit.

Wandering over to where Zakuro stood, Gojyo attempted to light a fresh cigarette. "This stupid thing," he muttered, shaking his lighter and trying again. "Fuck, I didn't even get it wet. Jeez, perfect." Sliding the white stick back into the packet and putting his cigarettes away, Gojyo shook his head and let out a sigh.

In the distance, he heard the crack of snapping branches and the swish of people moving through the forest, beneath the hushing patter of the rain. From the sound of it, the youkai were moving away in their search, although Gojyo couldn't be certain.

"Let one thing go right today," said Zakuro, apparently to nobody, as he stared out with his head cocked. Gojyo figured the guy was pretty much thinking the same as him – that if the youkai were retreating, they could soon get out of here.

"Better give it fifteen, man. Make sure. I wouldn't be surprised if those pricks come back."

Zakuro echoed Gojyo's earlier sigh. "I suppose." Turning, he took a step deeper into the cave and leaned against the wall, his strange, striking green eyes flicking from the entrance to Gojyo. Gojyo stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and looked down, scuffing the toe of one boot against the stone at his feet. It glittered with moisture and looked pretty, smooth and almost black like volcanic rock.

"This is kinda neat."

Zakuro glanced around the cave. "Hm. Probably formed hundreds of years ago, whenever this thing last erupted."

"Hah, so I was right." Gojyo half-smiled. "This mountain used to be active, yeah?"

"As far as I know." Zakuro watched him with cool eyes. That was, until his gaze slid down a little way to Gojyo's mouth, lingered there a moment too long to be casual, then rose again.

Gojyo felt an old, familiar heat tug at him, somewhere deep down in his belly. His senses rose, his skin prickling like it was becoming more tuned to the man sharing the cave with him, like he was unfurling under Zakuro's not so surreptitious glance. That look – that'd been unmistakable. Ho ho, Zakuro had just spilled more than he'd probably intended, and the afternoon was beginning to look a little more interesting.

"At one time, nobody dared settle on this mountain," Zakuro went on, frowning as if he'd also caught himself eyeing up Gojyo. "Eruptions were sporadic and the destruction spread far. Oh for - what are you smirking at?"

"Heh, nothin'," said Gojyo, taking a step closer. The guy might have been out to kill him just twenty minutes ago, but Gojyo wasn't one to look a horny gift horse in the mouth – not at this stage, anyway. He could barely remember the smell of sweet perfume and curvy hips and soft ringlets, or the taste of hot come in his mouth. "Just you talkin' about eruptions is gettin' me a bit warm, if you get my meaning."

It truly had been a long, long, tedious time since he'd been looked at in the way Zakuro just had. Gojyo felt like he was slipping into an old, comfortable headspace, one he knew how to use to his advantage. This was memorable territory. Good old territory, heralded by a pleasant lurch of arousal that buzzed around his bones and filled what he considered his most precious organ with blood.

Zakuro clicked his tongue and folded his arms over his chest, drawing attention to those big bad buckles he wore. "We were almost skinned alive by my kinsmen, then squashed under a tree, and you're thinking of... that."

"You're not? C'mon, man." Gojyo leaned forward, picking up Zakuro's natural scent – piney and masculine, definably youkai but not stale like a lot of the rabid ones. No, Zakuro clearly still had his marbles. Gojyo hoped they were big marbles. "Nothin' like a near-death experience to remind a guy how to live, eh?"

Zakuro surveyed him, but the pretense was a weak one – he was interested. It was practically crackling off his body like electricity in in a storm. "Like I'd associate with my sworn enemy."

"Who better to 'associate' with? No strings, no weepy goodbyes. And quit playin' hard to get." As he spoke, Gojyo let his gaze wander down to Zakuro's groin. What he found there willed the tension in the region of his dick to spiral, coiling up tight. "But feel free to keep playin' hard."

"Ugh, Ore-sama is..." But Zakuro didn't finish. As Gojyo stepped forward, taking that last pace, sharp fingernails curved into his belt loops and pulled. When they connected, it was in all the right, best places – hip to hip, mouth to mouth. Spicy, rich flavour burst into Gojyo's mouth, a taste he sucked at. The taste of another person. In-fucking-credible. A real kiss, for the first time in more moons than Gojyo cared to count. A long, hard cock pushed against his own, eager for his touch. Yeah, yeah, this was worth all the hassle of today, this one moment of perfect physical harmony. Forget who it was, forget it was the opposition. Sex was sex was sex and Gojyo fucking loved it.

With one hand, Gojyo sought out Zakuro's belt, tearing the damn thing loose. The leathers were another story. "Hell, man," he muttered into Zakuro's mouth, feeling sharp teeth scrape gently over his lower lip. "What are these things, spray-painted on or somethin'?"

"You wish. I'll have you know this is expensive leather. It's supposed to mould to the wearer. Easier to move in." Zakuro thrust his hips forward, which wasn't really helpful but after a moment of fiddling with a button and a zip, Gojyo was able to slide his hand down into the hottest, hardest place available.

"Easier to run away from your 'kinsmen' you mean, eh?" Gojyo smirked and won himself a bite to the lip, one that'd been threatening for a while. Zakuro licked the spot, hummed appreciatively. Gojyo savoured the sting, aware Zakuro had broken his skin. He didn't care. A little rough never bothered him. Sometimes rough was better.

The cock in his fist jerked and swelled, wet at the head, gorgeously rigid and smooth to the touch. As he began stroking, tugging, worrying the length, his dick twitched with a wrenching need in his trousers, pushing at the fly like it wanted to get out of the restriction and take something back. Gojyo liked that idea. Sounded like the best idea in the world, and with his free hand he made it a unanimous decision, grabbing his top button and pulling it free. The zip inched downward on its own with the pressure of Gojyo's erect cock pushing at it.

This beat his hand, a thousand times over. No amount of wanking could match the artless friction of someone else's skin, the not knowing how hard one tug would be from another, whether a partner would sweep a thumb over the tip of his cock, or keep him wishing they would.

Zakuro palmed him, beginning to match the pace he'd set in Zakuro's spread leathers. A little swell of competition underscored the rise of release and Gojyo grinned against Zakuro's chin, adding a twist, waiting for the returning twist. Ah, there it was.

"Fuck," he panted, slicking beads of precome down Zakuro's burning shaft. The cock in his fist twitched hard, giving Gojyo a second's warning, before Zakuro gasped a strangely soft, pretty sound, and shut his eyes.

Gojyo didn't mind the come striping up his wrist and disappearing up his sleeve. It'd wash out. However, he did mind when Zakuro stopped working his dick, like he was too caught up in orgasm to be much use.

"Come on, come on," Gojyo murmured, rocking against him. "You look damn good like that, man, but hell – don't stop now."

For a second after Zakuro opened his eyes they appeared a glassy, faded kind of green, before they sharpened again and filled with vivid colour. "I was otherwise engaged, in case you hadn't noticed," he said, with little bark in his voice. Actually, he sounded kind of drunk. Not that it stopped him from slipping to his knees and yanking down Gojyo's denims. What a welcome turn of events.

"Oh you've got to be – fuck. Yeah." Gojyo thrust his cock into Zakuro's mouth, hoping to all hell the guy thought to take care with those long front teeth of his. There was a bit of a scrape, but nothing Gojyo couldn't handle. A woman's fingernails, a youkai's teeth – sometimes the element of danger was good, too. "Ah, ah!"

No force in Shangri-la could've kept him hanging on longer, and why should he? With a long, resounding moan, Gojyo let go of the tension he'd been holding and letting build to dizzying, shivering intensity. Eyes cast down, he watched Zakuro work his mouth and throat, swallowing everything he had to give; watched his own cock slide in to the root, red curls brushing a pale, attractive nose. Pressing his hands to the wall, Gojyo steadied himself as his body rolled madly through orgasm, hips still making small rotations to milk out every millisecond of pleasure, of sweet release.

The buzz of being alive – no, it was like being super-alive, somehow extra alive – began to steadily overtake the physical shocks, reminding Gojyo why this was the best thing in the world, being touched, being appreciated, wanted. Mmm. Lips drew at his dick, a tongue pressed firmly to the underside. If Zakuro sucked him down any harder, there was danger his cock would break off.

Hottest. Thing. Ever.

"Ahh, easy there." Gojyo let out a long, grateful breath and pulled out, his cock dripping a little on the stone at his feet. When Zakuro rose, his cheeks were flushed and he looked vaguely embarrassed.

"What, ashamed at dropping to your knees for another guy?"

"Shut up," Zakuro said, brushing wayward strands of hair from his face. Looking away, he licked his lips. Gojyo smirked again.

"Nice way of passin' some time, eh?" Rebuckling his jeans and belt, Gojyo smoothed his non-sticky hand through his hair. "I hate to get you off and leave you, man, but I gotta wash my hand."

Zakuro tossed him a frown, as if it wasn't his fault Gojyo was all messy, but followed Gojyo out of the cave without protest.

The rain had stopped, and as Gojyo dipped his wrist – sleeve and all – into the brook, a few weak rays of sun began straining through the clouds above, clouds that were thankfully light and fluffy looking. Who knew, maybe the others would come back to pick him up. If not, he'd give them hell when he reached the base of the mountain.

They walked back down the brook in silence that was as companionable as silence could be between two 'sworn enemies' who'd just come on – and in – each other. Gojyo snorted to himself at the thought, his limbs fluid and mind blissfully clear. Even if the badass youkai from earlier were still lurking about, Gojyo wasn't that concerned any more.

When they reached the fallen tree, Gojyo stopped. "Look, no awkward stuff, all right?"

Zakuro looked at him sideways, nodded. "Deal. See you." He began to walk to the edge of the brook, obviously intending to cross the water, but then he stopped and turned back. "Oh, and next time I see you, I will kill you, then your friends, and then I will take the sutra. Just so you know, ore-sama hasn't forgotten his business."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Gojyo waved at him, but then paused as a figure appeared across the water. "Huh."

Zakuro followed his gaze, his already pale face blanching of any remaining colour. "K-Kougaiji-sama." With a dramatic flounce and flick of his coat, Zakuro bowed, then went one step further and dropped to one knee. Gojyo had to hand it to the guy – he looked good on his knees, all that leather pulling taut over his thighs and arse.

"Zakuro," Kougaiji acknowledged, then his gaze drifted to where Gojyo was standing.

"Yo." Gojyo gave him a quick nod. "Kougaiji."

After raising one fine red eyebrow at him in acknowledgement, Kougaiji returned his attention to Zakuro. "I was informed you've been causing a lot of problems for our side. I have to say, I'm disappointed and had hoped the rumours that reached the castle were false."

"Uh, my Lord, you don't understand." Zakuro quickly got to his feet, but kept his head lowered. "Those rumours are untrue!"

Kougaiji's frowned at him. "Really? Then what are you doing fraternising with Doku's younger brother?"

"Eh, I wouldn't say 'fraternising', Lord."

"You seemed to be getting on with him quite well before I made my presence known," Kougaiji pointed out.

"I wouldn't say there was much getting on," Gojyo piped up, aware this was really going to drop Zakuro in it, but too amused to give a damn. "There was definitely some getting off, though."

"You–" Zakuro spluttered, wheeling around and glaring daggers at him. "Shut up! How dare you imply ore-sama would go anywhere near–"

"Well," Gojyo said, not paying attention to him. "See ya."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he wandered back towards the camp, grinning all the way.

~Fin~

_____________
Go to || Home