Diurnal? Me?
Jan. 2nd, 2008 02:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keWill now impose a normal, diurnal schedule on self, before school starts again. :D Yeah, right.
Fighting with Goku demanded much attention from him, Sanzo realised to his own astonishment after several training sessions. The companion still wasted much time at the pointless acrobatics and useless stances, but he wasn’t half bad. Short of an open battle, when he’d likely be too busy getting hacked to pieces by otherwise decent lads, he was one of the finest fighters Sanzo had known.
Of course, Sanzo would hardly admit such a thing to anyone, let alone a whore. Besides, it wasn’t like a professional companion was in want of compliments. Half the capital was lining at the door of the House daily, spouting outrageous lines, some of which was even true, hoping for a companion to grace their bed. Sanzo snorted into his pillow and rolled onto his side and pressed his mouth against Goku’s collarbone and followed the sternum with his tongue. Goku’s hands found his, lacing their fingers together.
“I’m beating you a lot these days,” he said to the ceiling, arching his back. “Does it mean I’m getting better?”
“In your dreams.”
“No, really.” Even few syllables required a few pauses to allow to erratic breaths.
“Don’t think for a moment you’d be able to last a minute in a true battle,” Sanzo said, straddling Goku’s thighs. “But you aren’t half bad,” he allowed, sinking down slowly. Goku laughed and sat up, managing to get his heels underneath him. How he did it, with Sanzo’s own legs and the bedding in the way, Sanzo didn’t know. Maybe the bed had some extra-dimensional space he wasn’t aware of. Curious, but something to ponder at a later date. For now, finding Goku’s lips with his seemed infinitely higher on the list of priorities.
“There is one of the absurd formal gatherings tomorrow,” Sanzo remarked when they were lying together in the tangled sheets. “Hakkai insists I go, for some obscure reason.”
Goku blinked in confusion. Sanzo’s invitation, as usual required a translation and rephrasing, so that he had something to tell Kanzeon when she asked whether his lordship managed to learn the art of making a companion an offer. Goku had little hope for Sanzo to achieve the appropriate standards.
“I won’t be going,” he replied to the awkward “won’t you join me?” he distilled from the contemptuous remark. He busied himself drawing pictures on Sanzo’s chest with his fingers.
Sanzo shrugged. “Whatever.” It wasn’t like the company would make the function bearable.
xxx.XXX.xxx
Sanzo drummed his fingers on the table. Every thirty seconds he would look at the clock in the middle of the ballroom, confirming that is not yet time to go home, unfortunately. The party could hardly get any more boring, unless someone started making speeches. Sanzo hoped it wouldn’t happen, or at least not while Hakkai was keeping a close watch on him, thus disabling his escape plans. At least the diplomat was busy sweet-talking other diplomats, and consequently keeping a distant and therefore less intrusive watch. All Sanzo had to do was scare away potential conversationalists.
He’d look around occasionally, hoping for a riot to dispel the boredom. At some point a shimmer of something golden in the crowd, seen through the liquid in his glass, had drawn his attention. Could it be Goku? But he specifically said he wasn’t able to make it to the party. Sanzo stood up, abandoning his brandy and moving to investigate.
His vision was correct, he confirmed not ten seconds later. “Goku,” he said, standing close enough that his breath messed up the wild brown hair.
“Sanzo,” the companion turned to him and smiled, brightly as only he could.
“Wasn’t expecting you here.”
Goku shrugged. “It was a last minute change of plans. I didn’t know either.”
For someone who didn’t know he was coming to a party, Sanzo thought looking Goku over, he sure looked like he took time to prepare. Aside from the hair, not a thread was out of place, and the wild, yet natural coiffure, only enhanced the overall impression of casual elegance.
“Sanzo,” said a voice to Sanzo’s left, before a question could form. He barely deigned to glance sideways.
“Homura.”
The man smiled and Sanzo looked away. The man was distracting to look at, especially when, like Sanzo, one was in the habit of staring people straight in the eye. One of the eyes being golden the other blue tended to throw everyone off track, which Homura tended to use to his advantage. It was one of the many reasons he made Sanzo even more irate than he usually was.
“Thank you,” Goku said softly. Sanzo furrowed his brows to glare at the companion. He’d accepted a cup of an oddly coloured drink from Homura, and was just now smiling in his direction.
Sanzo was assaulted by a horrible suspicion he didn’t dare to voice in his own head.
“I heard you weren’t expected here,” he said in Homura’s direction, though he was watching his face reflected in the polished surface of the cup Goku was holding.
“I didn’t plan to be here, but my original appointment was cancelled and it would be unfair of me to keep my lovely companion all to myself tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You could have told me you wanted to show off,” Goku said. “I would have found something with more sparkle to it.”
“I daresay there is just enough sparkle to you.” Homura raised his own glass, clinking the edge against Goku’s cup.
“I’m pleased to hear that.”
Sanzo returned to his table, just in time to rescue his glass from a servant. He downed it in a single gulp, and all but threw it at the man. A quick look at the clock revealed Hakkai would be upset if he left, and an upset Hakkai was not a phenomenon Sanzo was willing to encounter. It often proved embarrassing and detrimental to one’s mental health.
An hour later he was still sitting at his table, hidden in the shadows of the pillars, when he heard someone approach.
“Hey. You disappeared so fast, we didn’t get a chance to talk,” Goku said, seating himself next to Sanzo with a plate of varied hors d’oeuvres. A plate, Sanzo noted, which contained more than a single person could eat.
“Who wants to talk?”
“I remember you don’t much care for the greens, right?” Goku said, frowning at the plate, which contained at least three different versions of cabbage wraps. “I wonder if that was the theme of the entrees, everything seems to have a piece of something green in it.”
“I’m not hungry,” Sanzo declared, dipping a shrimp in a dollop creamy sauce, from the top of the small hill of spring rolls.
“You never are hungry.”
“And you always are.”
“I can’t help it,” Goku said with a small smile. “At least I’m not putting on weight, no matter what I eat, so I see no cause to worry.”
Sanzo snorted. Vaguely he realised he was poking his third shrimp at the sauce, and that something was wrong with the picture. He laid the crustacean on the side of the plate and glared at Goku. “Where is Homura?”
“He saw someone he wanted to talk with. He said it might take a while an he’d find me later.” Goku, unperturbed, picked up the shrimp Sanzo abandoned and bit into it. “Try the pastries. They aren’t as good as your cook makes, but they are still delicious. Your cook is wasting her talents on you, by the way.”
“She’s gained an audience, recently.” Before Sanzo could think about it, his hand was picking up a pastry and brining it to his lips. It was decent, he supposed. Not as good as some he remembered eating, but edible. Goku was smiling at him, as he dealt with his part of the plate. “Did they forget to feed you today?” Sanzo asked, watching his progress.
“I didn’t have time to eat properly.”
“Stupid monkey,” the warlord muttered leaning back in his chair.
“I’m not a monkey.” A playful pout twisted the companion’s mouth.
“Goku.”
Sanzo watched Goku raise his head and look at the approaching man. There was no smile on Homura’s face as he laid his hands on Goku’s shoulders. Sanzo watched the companion tilt his head back, exposing his throat, to look at the other man. “I’m terribly sorry,” Homura said, “but we will have to leave now. I seem to have an urgent meeting on the other side of town, thankfully a short one. Would you mind coming along?”
“Not at all.” Goku stood up, brushing the hint of crumbs from his jacket. “Goodbye Sanzo.” He leaned against the table and brushed his lips against his cheek. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
Sanzo snorted and looked the other way, although his gaze kept returning to Goku’s svelte figure. Homura, damn him, didn’t take his hands off his shoulder. For the umpteenth time Sanzo reminded himself it was ridiculous, having a fit because someone had laid hands on the whore. It was, logically speaking, a nonsense. Complete and utter nonsense.
Goku was leaving with Homura, too. Sanzo gritted his teeth and called for another brandy.
Fighting with Goku demanded much attention from him, Sanzo realised to his own astonishment after several training sessions. The companion still wasted much time at the pointless acrobatics and useless stances, but he wasn’t half bad. Short of an open battle, when he’d likely be too busy getting hacked to pieces by otherwise decent lads, he was one of the finest fighters Sanzo had known.
Of course, Sanzo would hardly admit such a thing to anyone, let alone a whore. Besides, it wasn’t like a professional companion was in want of compliments. Half the capital was lining at the door of the House daily, spouting outrageous lines, some of which was even true, hoping for a companion to grace their bed. Sanzo snorted into his pillow and rolled onto his side and pressed his mouth against Goku’s collarbone and followed the sternum with his tongue. Goku’s hands found his, lacing their fingers together.
“I’m beating you a lot these days,” he said to the ceiling, arching his back. “Does it mean I’m getting better?”
“In your dreams.”
“No, really.” Even few syllables required a few pauses to allow to erratic breaths.
“Don’t think for a moment you’d be able to last a minute in a true battle,” Sanzo said, straddling Goku’s thighs. “But you aren’t half bad,” he allowed, sinking down slowly. Goku laughed and sat up, managing to get his heels underneath him. How he did it, with Sanzo’s own legs and the bedding in the way, Sanzo didn’t know. Maybe the bed had some extra-dimensional space he wasn’t aware of. Curious, but something to ponder at a later date. For now, finding Goku’s lips with his seemed infinitely higher on the list of priorities.
“There is one of the absurd formal gatherings tomorrow,” Sanzo remarked when they were lying together in the tangled sheets. “Hakkai insists I go, for some obscure reason.”
Goku blinked in confusion. Sanzo’s invitation, as usual required a translation and rephrasing, so that he had something to tell Kanzeon when she asked whether his lordship managed to learn the art of making a companion an offer. Goku had little hope for Sanzo to achieve the appropriate standards.
“I won’t be going,” he replied to the awkward “won’t you join me?” he distilled from the contemptuous remark. He busied himself drawing pictures on Sanzo’s chest with his fingers.
Sanzo shrugged. “Whatever.” It wasn’t like the company would make the function bearable.
xxx.XXX.xxx
Sanzo drummed his fingers on the table. Every thirty seconds he would look at the clock in the middle of the ballroom, confirming that is not yet time to go home, unfortunately. The party could hardly get any more boring, unless someone started making speeches. Sanzo hoped it wouldn’t happen, or at least not while Hakkai was keeping a close watch on him, thus disabling his escape plans. At least the diplomat was busy sweet-talking other diplomats, and consequently keeping a distant and therefore less intrusive watch. All Sanzo had to do was scare away potential conversationalists.
He’d look around occasionally, hoping for a riot to dispel the boredom. At some point a shimmer of something golden in the crowd, seen through the liquid in his glass, had drawn his attention. Could it be Goku? But he specifically said he wasn’t able to make it to the party. Sanzo stood up, abandoning his brandy and moving to investigate.
His vision was correct, he confirmed not ten seconds later. “Goku,” he said, standing close enough that his breath messed up the wild brown hair.
“Sanzo,” the companion turned to him and smiled, brightly as only he could.
“Wasn’t expecting you here.”
Goku shrugged. “It was a last minute change of plans. I didn’t know either.”
For someone who didn’t know he was coming to a party, Sanzo thought looking Goku over, he sure looked like he took time to prepare. Aside from the hair, not a thread was out of place, and the wild, yet natural coiffure, only enhanced the overall impression of casual elegance.
“Sanzo,” said a voice to Sanzo’s left, before a question could form. He barely deigned to glance sideways.
“Homura.”
The man smiled and Sanzo looked away. The man was distracting to look at, especially when, like Sanzo, one was in the habit of staring people straight in the eye. One of the eyes being golden the other blue tended to throw everyone off track, which Homura tended to use to his advantage. It was one of the many reasons he made Sanzo even more irate than he usually was.
“Thank you,” Goku said softly. Sanzo furrowed his brows to glare at the companion. He’d accepted a cup of an oddly coloured drink from Homura, and was just now smiling in his direction.
Sanzo was assaulted by a horrible suspicion he didn’t dare to voice in his own head.
“I heard you weren’t expected here,” he said in Homura’s direction, though he was watching his face reflected in the polished surface of the cup Goku was holding.
“I didn’t plan to be here, but my original appointment was cancelled and it would be unfair of me to keep my lovely companion all to myself tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You could have told me you wanted to show off,” Goku said. “I would have found something with more sparkle to it.”
“I daresay there is just enough sparkle to you.” Homura raised his own glass, clinking the edge against Goku’s cup.
“I’m pleased to hear that.”
Sanzo returned to his table, just in time to rescue his glass from a servant. He downed it in a single gulp, and all but threw it at the man. A quick look at the clock revealed Hakkai would be upset if he left, and an upset Hakkai was not a phenomenon Sanzo was willing to encounter. It often proved embarrassing and detrimental to one’s mental health.
An hour later he was still sitting at his table, hidden in the shadows of the pillars, when he heard someone approach.
“Hey. You disappeared so fast, we didn’t get a chance to talk,” Goku said, seating himself next to Sanzo with a plate of varied hors d’oeuvres. A plate, Sanzo noted, which contained more than a single person could eat.
“Who wants to talk?”
“I remember you don’t much care for the greens, right?” Goku said, frowning at the plate, which contained at least three different versions of cabbage wraps. “I wonder if that was the theme of the entrees, everything seems to have a piece of something green in it.”
“I’m not hungry,” Sanzo declared, dipping a shrimp in a dollop creamy sauce, from the top of the small hill of spring rolls.
“You never are hungry.”
“And you always are.”
“I can’t help it,” Goku said with a small smile. “At least I’m not putting on weight, no matter what I eat, so I see no cause to worry.”
Sanzo snorted. Vaguely he realised he was poking his third shrimp at the sauce, and that something was wrong with the picture. He laid the crustacean on the side of the plate and glared at Goku. “Where is Homura?”
“He saw someone he wanted to talk with. He said it might take a while an he’d find me later.” Goku, unperturbed, picked up the shrimp Sanzo abandoned and bit into it. “Try the pastries. They aren’t as good as your cook makes, but they are still delicious. Your cook is wasting her talents on you, by the way.”
“She’s gained an audience, recently.” Before Sanzo could think about it, his hand was picking up a pastry and brining it to his lips. It was decent, he supposed. Not as good as some he remembered eating, but edible. Goku was smiling at him, as he dealt with his part of the plate. “Did they forget to feed you today?” Sanzo asked, watching his progress.
“I didn’t have time to eat properly.”
“Stupid monkey,” the warlord muttered leaning back in his chair.
“I’m not a monkey.” A playful pout twisted the companion’s mouth.
“Goku.”
Sanzo watched Goku raise his head and look at the approaching man. There was no smile on Homura’s face as he laid his hands on Goku’s shoulders. Sanzo watched the companion tilt his head back, exposing his throat, to look at the other man. “I’m terribly sorry,” Homura said, “but we will have to leave now. I seem to have an urgent meeting on the other side of town, thankfully a short one. Would you mind coming along?”
“Not at all.” Goku stood up, brushing the hint of crumbs from his jacket. “Goodbye Sanzo.” He leaned against the table and brushed his lips against his cheek. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
Sanzo snorted and looked the other way, although his gaze kept returning to Goku’s svelte figure. Homura, damn him, didn’t take his hands off his shoulder. For the umpteenth time Sanzo reminded himself it was ridiculous, having a fit because someone had laid hands on the whore. It was, logically speaking, a nonsense. Complete and utter nonsense.
Goku was leaving with Homura, too. Sanzo gritted his teeth and called for another brandy.
