Chains
He had been sleeping.
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He had been awake.
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He still didn't know what had happened, what had gone wrong. They had been sleeping round the fire. Hakkai in a smooth curl of limbs with his face turned away from the light and the tiny white dragon nestled in the hollow of his neck and shoulder. Goku a ball of suppressed energy, twitching from time to time in his sleep and muttering about food. Gojyo was a tall shadow in the background, hair a long wave of crimson breaking over his shoulders, keeping watch.
Something had gone wrong. He couldn't remember what. That last pre-dream glimpse of the others was the last thing he could remember before this.
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It had been another stupid mission to try to get the sutra off Sanzou. Never mind that one of his servants was the half-brother of that brashly cute half-youkai of Sanzou's. Never mind that the other one seemed more concerned with apologizing to Cho Gonou the extremely convenient mass murderer, oh, excuse me, we're tactfully ignoring that, Cho Hakkai, than actually making a significant attempt to fight him. Still, it seemed to work both ways -- the two on the other side were clearly handicapped in turn by the shaky relationships. It balanced out. And thank any and all deities that Lirin hadn't known it was happening.
Something had gone wrong. He remembered flame and thunder and everything coming apart. He thought that he remembered screams.
---
It was his wrists and his neck that he felt the pain in first, as consciousness slowly returned; the chafing stretched pain from harsh metal holding his wrists above his head, the ache in his neck from at least half an hour, he estimated, of hanging in this position. For a moment he kept his eyes shut, willing his breathing into the slow patterns of continued sleep, as he tried to assess the situation. He could feel his robes hanging heavy around his waist. Cold air touched his neck and wrists and shoulders, brushing around the edges of his black leather vest and gloves. The room smelt of dust and sulphur and ash, empty harsh odours, lacking even the comfort of the scent of nicotine that clung to his robes like fog.
"That would work," said Kougaiji's voice from somewhere behind him, "if we weren't youkai."
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His brain was burning with the familiar cold exhaustion that said no more fire for the moment, let alone any summonings. He knew it well by now. He'd felt it too often recently. They'd been kept too busy by the Empress. Yaone had started developing a slight over-nervousness to her motions and a hectic sparkle to her eyes. He wondered if she'd started dosing herself to keep going, and if she'd admit it, should he question her. But the sensation of something heavy pinning him down was unfamiliar. He didn't usually wake up to that.
With an effort, he opened his eyes. Fragments of masonry and the broken trunk of a tree held him pinned down on his front, sprawled helplessly in an ungainly tangle of limbs. A couple of branches held his arms trapped, pressed against them hard enough to leave bruises. He turned his head from side to side, squinting into the haze of smoke, looking for the others. There was no sign of them.
From behind him came the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder. "There you are," said Genjou Sanzou. "I've been looking for you."
---
He was silent. He didn't turn his head to try to look at the other man -- no, not a man, a youkai, a youkai prince even, though what difference rank made among the creatures . . . He controlled his breathing and waited, secure in icy patience.
Footsteps behind him. "Before we go any further, let me make one thing clear. We have your sutra."
He sighed, deliberately allowing the sound to be contemptuous. "You talk too much. Of course you do. I don't have it, after all, so who else would?"
There was the sense of an eyebrow being raised. Not so much a physical noise, but that little pause to denote the emphasis of surprise. "You're taking it very calmly."
"You think I'm going to get disturbed by shit like that?"
"No." A more thoughtful pause, this time. "I think I'm going to have to go deeper than that to disturb you."
---
He was a youkai prince. There was no shame in turning his head to look at Sanzou. He did so.
The monk seemed to be concentrating on his cigarette, holding it between long pale fingers as he drew on it. Sifts of ash from some fire had settled on his robes and hair, leaving dark smuts against their pallor. When he looked up from his cigarette, his eyes were an almost ferocious dark violet in the gold and ivory of his face.
"Why did you come looking?" he asked, when it became clear that Sanzou had no intention of speaking immediately.
Sanzou drew on his cigarette again. "Are you familiar with the concept of muichimotsu?"
He hadn't expected philosophical discussions. Perhaps he should have. The monk was an enigma. "That's being devoid of all possessions, isn't it? Emotional as well as physical baggage?"
"Not bad." Sanzou walked across, and sat down on the log next to him. A hint of his black leather vest showed at the neck of his robes. "So. No baggage. What should I do with you?"
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"Hold still." The footsteps approached to behind him, and a long youkai claw brushed the back of his neck, beginning to slide under the neck of his vest.
He oriented on the direction of the steps, and kicked up and backwards with his right foot, balancing and pivoting on his left foot. There was nothing conscious about it.
A tiny snort, as though Kougaiji was no more than vaguely amused by the action. The youkai prince stepped to the side smoothly, avoiding the kick, and tapped one booted foot against the side of his left ankle at the precise moment his weight was on it.
He lost his balance. His weight came down hard on his wrists, and he suppressed a curse as the unpadded cuffs bit into his flesh painfully. At the same moment, he felt Kougaji's claw slice open one of the shoulder seams on his vest, cutting through the soft leather as though it was silk.
The air was cold.
"Hold still, I said." The other shoulder seam came apart. He gritted his teeth, pulling himself squarely onto his feet again, as Kougaiji's hands fastened themselves in the sweat-dampened black leather and peeled it down to his waist.
He wasn't breathing faster. He wasn't.
---
He tried to jerk a shoulder, but the accumulated debris held him uncomfortably tight. "Where are the others? Yaone and Doku?"
"I don't know." Sanzou shrugged. Smoke curled from the end of his cigarette. "They're your baggage, not mine. Stop wasting my time."
"You may believe in killing the Buddha on the road, but I don't. They're my people, mine to me. Stop criticizing what you don't understand." He could taste scorn in his voice now. "And don't try to convince me that your people don't mean as much to you."
Sanzou ground the cigarette butt into the log that he was sitting on. "You don't understand. The point is the non-attachment to whoever you meet. The precise action is irrelevant. They mean nothing to me." His eyes were perfectly amethyst, perfectly cold, perfect lakes of ice in such a beautiful face. "You mean nothing to me. I do as I choose and pass on."
"And what do you --" He broke off abruptly as Sanzou reached out to touch the back of his neck.
"You're breathing faster," Sanzou said gently.
---
He bit his lip as Kougaiji ran one hand over his stomach, bringing his long-nailed fingers up over the skin of his chest, pausing at his right nipple. The youkai stroked the hard ridged skin, breath hot against the back of his neck.
"Have you ever thought," the prince asked, gently, "what you would do if everything really was gone? If you not only lost your friends . . ."
"They're not my friends." The words came between clenched teeth, automatic.
"Your friends," Kougaiji continued, unruffled, "your sutras, your purpose, your hope of revenge against the ones who killed your master, your pride -- for a monk, you have a lot of pride, don't you?"
He didn't answer.
The fingers moved up to stroke the hollow of his collarbone. He considered jerking forward in an attempt to lay his own throat open.
"I like your pride," Kougaiji murmured. "I wouldn't be so interested in you otherwise."
"Animal."
"We're both animals. Hot and sweaty. Red Boy and pale monk."
The hand began to move down his body again.
---
He shivered. "Get your hand off me."
"Make me."
"What are you playing at?"
"How well you spout human phrases." The hand moved down to the bottom of his jacket, and began to push it upwards, leaving his back naked. "Do they train you in it when they're training you in the other useless concepts like honor and loyalty, youkai?"
He growled deep in his throat. "You're calling me an animal."
Sanzou began to explore the crevices and bumps of his spine. He didn't answer.
He turned his face away from the monk in a sudden moment of fury. "If you think I'm an animal, how do you justify what you're doing, human?"
"The urge to do so." Sanzou traced down the edge of his ribs with his other hand. "I make no pretenses."
Both hands moved to his belt.
---
"I'm going to kill you," he said, low and ferocious.
"Give up." The long nails nicked through the waistband of his jeans, once at each side, and then begin to peel down the seam at the side of the jeans. He could feel the edge of the nail against his skin, not quite piercing the surface.
He kicked backwards again, conscious of the indignity of his struggle, the uselessness of the motion, but driven to fight as far as he could.
"Cornered rats fight," said Kougaiji. "I'd fight too. I . . . mm." And suddenly he could feel the youkai's lips on the back of his neck, warm and hot and wet, tracing down the line of his vertebrae, arms wrapped tightly around his chest with that unnatural strength, and he was hanging there from the chains, black gloves still sheathing his arms like liquid, jeans hanging off one leg but stupidly still attached to the other, barefoot in the dust, and there was nothing he could do about it, nothing, and he closed his eyes and felt the pulse hammering in his head.
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"Bastard." He was reduced to helpless curses, and even then rank and learned courtesy bridled his tongue, stopped him from swearing like the foul-mouthed monk. "Filth." He struggled to move. The rocks and fallen trees were merciless.
"Words." Sanzou slipped one hand under his body, and began to undo his belt, then his jeans. "Why do you attach so much importance to them? Don't tell me you haven't played the bum-boy for some higher-ranking youkai. I know about your little games of prestige and power. I know my enemy."
"Shut up." He was torn between trying to thrust his body down against the stone, to crush the man's hand or at least to keep his jeans fastened, and the knowledge that it would be rubbing his genitals against the monk's hand.
"Really," Sanzou remarked, voice still icy cool, "the only difference here is that you don't think I'm superior to you. You're wrong."
His jeans came loose. He felt the monk begin to work them over his buttocks and down, baring his legs. It was stupid, stupid, such a totally stupid thing to happen, such a stupid position to be in, trapped here and wriggling like a cat under a human's stronger hands, skin bare to the night air, cigarette stench heavy around him, humiliating, bitter-tasting, and he closed his eyes so that the burning tears would stay held back, and he tried to control the accelerating rate of his breath.
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He pulled stillness around him like a mantle as the other leg of his jeans was sliced open, and they puddled on the floor at his feet. He called on the remembered stillness of meditation, the separation from other living beings, the knowledge that all living things were alone, that he was alone, that there was no god to cry to, no powers to save, nothing except the self here and now. Opening his eyes, he saw that Kougaiji was standing in front of him.
"Yes," the youkai prince said, as if he could read his thoughts. "Nothing but the present. Nothing but this room, and you, and me. Isn't that what you want? No future. No past. Only the moment. How else do you excuse it to yourself when you fornicate at night?"
"Stop putting words in my mouth," he retorted.
Kougaji didn't smile. The youkai stepped into his personal space, body against body, groin against groin tight enough that he didn't have space or leverage to try to use his knees or kick him, left arm tight around his waist to keep their bare chests pressed together, right hand coming up to hold his chin steady.
The kiss was a violation. He kept his eyes open, because he would not give Kougaji the satisfaction of seeing him flinch, and so he had to look into Kougaji's eyes as the youkai forced his mouth open and they kissed tightly, lips parted, tongues moving together. The metal collars on Kougaiji's neck rubbed against the bare flesh of his own throat.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Kougaiji asked, breaking the kiss. He didn't even seem to be breathing hard. "You wanted the others gone. They're gone. You didn't want the mission. You can't complete it now anyhow. Enlightenment, Genjou Sanzou. Your master would be proud of you."
---
"I'll kill you for this," he said flatly, aware that the threat was meaningless.
"Oh, grow up." Sanzou had rolled his jeans down to his knees, and was currently tracing the muscles of the back of his thighs with a curious finger. "Be honest about this, and stop trading on the whole prince thing, Red Boy. You've been deliberately throwing yourself into suicidal situations for months now. You're tired of it all. You can't stand the responsibility. Your mother . . ."
"Leave her out of this," he spat. The words touched something raw inside.
"Hardly. You won't." The monk's hands were warm against his thighs. "Well, it's over now. You don't have to worry about your heartbreakingly loyal followers any longer. They're off your shoulders now. It's a pity you couldn't have been more honest and just flat out told them to go, instead of leading them into a situation where they were bound to get killed--"
"You're lying!" He wrenched furiously against the wood and stone, and for a moment he thought that something might give -- but it didn't, it held him down, it forced him to listen to the human's cool, unimpassioned words, and each one stuck like a barb in his soul and drew blood.
"Take it as you like. But they're gone now. And you can't possibly do anything to help your mother, lying here on your face like this, and you needn't feel responsible for anyone any more. All gone. Isn't that nice. Look at the dirt in front of your face, asshole. You're helpless and nobody's depending on you for anything. You're free. Does it feel good?"
---
It was like icy cold water somewhere deep in his chest, making him choke, almost vomit with the shock of it. Some of his consciousness of the scene grew distant as he thought of Koumyou Sanzou. Memory and present were different worlds. He had chosen to follow his master. He had chosen to submit his will. There was nothing of choice about where he was now. It wasn't his fault. Nothing that Kougaiji did could touch that. He didn't want this.
The youkai was sliding his boxers off him as he hung there, curiously still numb, not present in any way that counted. He could feel Kougaiji's hands on him, hear his own breath coming faster as the youkai tongued his nipples and ran clawed hands down his sides to his genitals, but it wasn't him. It wasn't really him. The real him was still with his master, with Koumyou Sanzo, with the monk who could never have anything to do with something like that, with the only person who had been able to accept him and still let him exist without involvement.
Kougaji drew one nail down the length of his erect cock. That didn't matter. It didn't matter that he was shaking in the chains now as though he was feverish, pulling at the cuffs as though he wanted to thrust his body against the youkai's muscled torso.
"Kouryuu," Kougaji whispered, wrapping his soft hand intimately around his cock, and suddenly both worlds collided with splintering impossibility, and he couldn't break free of either.
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He had not fully realised before what it meant to truly despair. It weighed him down more than any of the artificial constraints, and for a long moment that hung in the air and seemed to last forever, he didn't care that he could feel Sanzou fastidiously ripping away his briefs with a couple of quick jerks. It didn't matter that the monk was moving his long soft fingers in what was so close to a lover's caress over his cock and balls, as though curious that youkai had such things.
None of it mattered. He'd lost, right down to the last person that he cared about, and that was how he had chosen to count his riches, and that was therefore how he now had to count his losses. His lips moved in a silent whisper of mother, and he remembered her fixed in stone and silent. And now she'd be there forever, for who would care enough to try to release her? Her blind eyes seemed to stare back at him. He felt himself hardening as he lay there, erect cock rubbing against the cruel stone, and it was less than nothing in the growing sea of emptiness where there was only him and nobody else.
A grease-slicked finger slid into him, probing, and then another one joined it. He could endure. It wasn't real. He wasn't a virgin in that respect. The only real thing in the world was what he'd lost; his mother, trapped in stone, enclosed and sleeping forever in the silence of dark grey marble.
"She's still awake," came Sanzou's voice, and it came through his dream like cold wind on a hot day, cutting to the bone. He felt the fingers flex inside him. "She's awake and she's screaming and now it's never going to stop."
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He opened his mouth to scream, and Kougaiji kissed him again, youkai tongue inside his mouth, and began to grind against him, erect cock against his thigh, one hand still stroking his own cock in a way that was demeaning and humiliating and god it felt like a burning flame and it was so good and he was Genjou Sanzou and he was going to kill the youkai and he couldn't stop gasping for breath and he was going to die of this and he could hear his own voice in short disconnected phrases that were begging Kougaiji, begging him to do more, to take him, to fuck him now, dammit, and there wasn't any way out of it, he was real and physical and immediate and he knew who he was and he was still whimpering.
"Yes," Kougaiji murmured in between kisses, one hand sliding behind him, going round the small of his back, lifting him off his feet with that youkai (animal) youkai (demon) youkai strength of his, pulling away from the kiss for a moment as he tugged his body forward and tilted it upwards, and now he could feel Kougaiji's cock rubbing against his ass.
There was nothing except the moment. Nothing. He was looking into the youkai prince's dark gemlike eyes and tasting his mouth and tongue as Kougaiji sank into him in one shuddering movement.
---
He cried out hoarsely, struggling, unable to find his way back into the empty space of cool despair where she was and where the silence would keep him safe because even if he'd failed then he could let go and not care about anything any more, but this meant that he'd failed and she'd still be suffering and he'd have to live in the failure and know it and that was the worst of all. No, there was no worst, because the worst kept on redefining itself every second and that was the new worst and then that because he didn't think about any of this until that damned monk whispered it in his ear and made him move like an animal under his hands.
Sanzou had shed some of his clothing now. He could feel the human positioning himself, taking hold of his hips and beginning to move in. He could hear his own voice coming in thick heavy breaths and panting sobs.
"I've removed your chains. Prince. Master. Son. They're all gone. You're free now." But this wasn't freedom, this couldn't be freedom, this was being trapped inside his body, subject to uncaring caresses that didn't notice him or recognize him and which he hadn't permitted, the human's cock forcing its way inside his ass, and he wanted time to stop and lock him here outside it away from everything that had a claim on him because this at least was true, that nobody had any demands to make of him here, not even that he want them, and then he was free of thought, and only conscious of his impaled body shuddering under Sanzou.
---
"Hate's attachment too. You'll never be free of me." Body slick against body, both of them sweating, Kougaiji's mouth moving down to lick at his nipples and then plant tiny kisses up along the cords of his neck, Kougaiji's hands on his hips, holding him up, Kougaiji's cock inside him. "Never free of me, never free of any of us, always in these chains, always just looking at us with those huge eyes and saying come and hurt me because I can't get away from you . . ."
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"Let go of your chains. You chose them. You're keeping them. You're the only one who can keep them locked round you." Sanzou's body inside him, rubbing and huge and deep, Sanzou's flesh hot and human against his back, Sanzou's breath on his neck and in his ear as the monk's voice kept on rubbing at the cords of his self-control, Sanzou present, always present, he couldn't get away from the human, Sanzou's words a backdrop of rain against the fire of his arousal, as he moved with him, the beast with two backs, what a stupid human expression, as he submitted to the man, let go of your chains, but my chains are what I am . . .
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Orgasm came in the same moment for both of them, Kougaiji's mouth locked against his in a kiss which he was returning, and he hung there, and he was falling, and he was caught in his chains, and it went on forever.
---
He felt himself coming at the same time as the monk, caught in that space where nothing else existed, where the smoky night was like a curtain around them keeping the rest of the world away, and where he really was free from everyone else, and nobody to watch him, nobody to hear him, not even himself, and in that space he could let himself give way, because Sanzou was Sanzou and had no claims on him, and he could shiver and cry out and be weak and it didn't matter. And he was free. And it went on forever.
---
He opened his eyes. Gojyo was kneeling next to him, crimson hair falling like a curtain round his face, dark red eyes narrowed in concern. "You all right? You were twitching like . . ."
"Bad dream," he said, and shut his eyes again, and looked inward at his private darkness.
---
He opened his eyes. He was alone in a morass of silk sheets, suitable for a prince's bedroom. He knew Doku would be outside the door, Yaone in her bedroom down the corridor, Lirin in her bed piled high with dolls, his mother still in her stone pillar.
He prayed that she did not dream.
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