FicWad

Gojyo didn't know what compelled him to do it, but the half-breed found himself marching up to the room he and Sanzo-/sama/ were sharing with a full breakfast on hand. Why? He wasn't sure. He vaguely remembered Hakkai mentioning it being the priest's birthday or something, making him wonder how his friend was able to remember all this stuff when Gojyo couldn't tell you when his own birthday was on most days.

/Must be one of those Hakkai things/, he had reasoned and suddenly had a brainstorm. Grabbing some of the breakfast Hakkai had made, Gojyo headed up the stairs of the inn with an air of determination.

And here he was now.

Breakfast in bed?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

About to turn around and make a run for it (or casual walk, since running would be admitting defeat), the door suddenly opened and violet eyes glared out at him. Moved to glare at the breakfast, which withheld the burning gaze better than most could. And glared back at Gojyo. "What do you want?"

Gojyo shrugged. "A house on the beach, a harem of beautiful women, a lifetime supply of smokes..."

"Why are you here, moron?" Sanzo growled.

Gojyo was about to make a comment about whether any of them really knew why they were here but decided against it. "Breakfast?" he said instead.

"I fuck you a few times and suddenly you're my wife?" Sanzo smirks but let's Gojyo into the room. The redhead sneered, ignoring the snickers of the two men who just happened to be passing by at that moment.

"Well I thought I'd try to be nice since it's your birthday but so far my plan isn't turning out like I planned." Gojyo pushed the tray he was holding into the monk's hands and shuffled over to his bed, flopped over backwards and proceeded to stare at the ceiling. If he squinted, one of the water stains looked like Kougaiji.

And then Sanzo was on him, biting down on his bottom lip and hands pinning his wrists to the mattress. Gojyo arched into the touch, pressing groin to groin and shuddered when pale hands work his pants off of his hips. Somewhere in a flash of time, Sanzo had managed to work off his own robes and jeans. For someone who hadn't had a sex life until a couple months ago, the monk seemed to be disturbingly talented in the area.

Gojyo liked to think that Sanzo was just a fast learner with an excellent teacher. It was easier on the ego.

They were rocking into each other, messy kisses and sharper nips with hands leaving scratches and trails of fire over skin. Sanzo blindly reached out, hand groping for something on the night table and made a slight sound of triumph when he got it.

"Whaaa?" Gojyo managed to say intelligently.

"Spread 'em," Sanzo ordered and Gojyo did just that, before realizing what the blonde was holding.

And tried to close his legs again. "Oh, no. No no no no, nu-uh. You are not using maple syrup." Gojyo thought he was very firm with his argument.

Sanzo raised an eyebrow and poured some of the syrup onto his hand. Gojyo turned his head away but watched from the corner of his eyes. The other eyebrow joined the first.

Mentally sighing, Gojyo flopped back again and knew, just knew, that that sticky sweet sap would eventually go where no syrup has gone before.

*

The next day, Hakkai watched Gojyo with a curious expression, noticing the half-smirk, half-grimace that the redhead made every time he took a step and the smug, amused glint in Sanzo's eyes.

"Uh, Gojyo, are you okay?" he asked eventually. "You look sort of...off today."

The redhead looked at him blankly for a moment. "I'm getting sappy in my old age," he said dryly and stuffed his hands deeper into his pocket.

Hakkai blinked. Did Sanzo just snort?