Warnings: Spoilers for Saiyuki Reload V10

Author's notes: Written for yuletide_smut 2012 over on Dreamwidth. According to the Saiyuki Wikia, Gat's guns are Colt Bisley models. This is set before Hazel and Gat go east. This is my second attempt at Hazel and my first attempt at Gat. Critique would be very much appreciated! I should never be allowed to make jokes about guns or be let near Varahal ever again.

Hey baby, lemme see your Gatling gun

Varahal didn't go around possessing random humans for shits and giggles. He fucking hated humans — they were all arrogant little pricks who weren't good for anything. Except maybe for food. They tasted pretty good. But Varahal wouldn't possess one just because he happened to like munching on a human or two for lunch. Who the fuck would want to stay inside a useless lump of meat?

But, due to circumstances beyond his control — well, it was kind of in his control because if he hadn't been going around killing humans in Bishop Grouse's village he probably wouldn't have ended up half dead — he had to go and jump inside the body of some sniveling brat.

It was only supposed to be until he got better and could go around wreaking havoc without having to stop for breath every other minute, but the damn brat had to go and repress his memories. Now he was stuck inside the kid for fuck knew how long. And while some of the girls (and let's be real, some of the boys too) in Hazel's town would've killed for a chance to know what he thought of their new spring bonnet or whateverthefuck they were wearing, Varahal would've preferred not to be in a position where he knew every single thing that went through the kid's head.

Puberty inside the head of a human was the worst thing Varahal had ever been through. It was bad enough that he'd had to go through his own puberty, way back when, but being assaulted by the hormonal almost perpetually-horny thoughts of a teenaged human male made Varahal want to bang his head against a brick wall.

And then the kid started to use Varahal's powers to shove souls into people's dead bodies. His powers were being used to bring those meatsacks back to life! If Varahal had that head-banging brick wall, now he'd be punching holes in it. He was too weak to really do anything except snarl about the brat tapping into his powers, but like fuck he was going to let him bring back that old slayer. Whenever the kid tried, Varahal crawled into the farthest corners of the kid's mind and hunkered down and tried to make himself as small as possible.

Pretty soon, the kid stopped trying to bring the old bastard back to life, and the only thing Varahal had to deal with was the usual boring-as-fuck stream of consciousness that usually went through the mind of a repressed kid going through the first throes of puberty who'd had to deal with some intense childhood trauma.

When Hazel and Gat met, it was because Gat was trying to stop Hazel from killing the monsters that lived near his tribe. One thing led to another, and Hazel had brought Gat back to life with the full intention of atoning for his sins against the other man.

And so it came to pass that Hazel brought Gat back into the village with him. Of course everyone was just dying to know about the native man the priest had come back with. Hazel told them that Gat was his new attendant. Gat didn't say anything. Over the first couple of weeks, Hazel would learn that Gat didn't really speak unless he was asked a direct question. And sometimes not even then.

"Ya don't talk much, do ya?" Hazel asked as he watched Gat chopping some firewood.

Gat shrugged.

"That just kinda proves my point, don't it?"

Gat tilted his head in acknowledgment.

Hazel settled down on the steps leading up to the back door of the church and watched Gat work. It was the middle of the afternoon and still too early to start preparing for the evening mass. He watched the play of the sunlight on the slight sheen of sweat on Gat's arms and the way his muscles tensed and relaxed as he swung the axe, noted how much darker Gat's skin seemed when he compared it to his own pale hands.

The thunk of the blade against the stump shook Hazel out of his reverie. Goodness, had he really spent all that time contemplating how much larger Gat was than him? Well, nothing wrong about harmless woolgathering once in a while.

It wasn't like he was appreciating the fine lines of Gat's body with some sort of malicious agenda in mind. He was just observing and appreciating the differences in their physique. It was just natural to be engrossed in something that was so different from the norm.

Nodding firmly, happy with his conclusions, Hazel went inside the church. "I'll be goin' in then. When you're done, help me get the candles ready for later."

Gat nodded.

The mass had just ended and Hazel was clearing up the things on the altar when two middle-aged women approached him, ostensibly to talk about something important. Gat watched from the sidelines, wondering whether it was necessary for them to touch Hazel that much if they were just talking about getting more donations for the village orphanage.

Hazel looked slightly harried at the way the women were practically cornering him, so Gat moved towards them. His purpose in this new life was to protect Hazel, and he didn't plan on being lenient, even if he was dealing with women.

"My word!" one of the women gasped, her eyes wide over the hand that was covering her mouth. "Is this the savage you brought back, reverend?"

"Now, now, don't call Gat that. Ain't that a bit mean?"

Gat's expression remained blank, but he stared at the women and hoped that he made it clear that he wasn't going to let them do anything untoward — the way they had been looking at Hazel reminded him of how he'd seen wolves stalking deer in the forests.

"It's just … he's an awfully big brute."

Hazel laughed. "He's big, but he wouldn't hurt a fly." He turned to face Gat. "Is there anything you wanted?"

Gat inclined his head towards the altar.

"Actually, I could use home help packing up, thank you." Hazel sent one last smile towards the women. "Ladies, if you'll excuse us."

They left, casting wary looks at Gat, and whispering. Gat ignored them. It wasn't the first time that he'd been the subject of prejudice in Hazel's town, and he was sure that it wasn't going to be the last time. It didn't really bother him — even before his rebirth, he'd never really cared what other people thought of him and he wasn't going to start caring now.

The thing that really ticked Varahal off whenever the kid found someone attractive was the fact that even though Varahal wouldn't have boned whoever caught Hazel's attention even if that person were the last living thing on earth, he was still affected whenever Hazel was thinking kinky thoughts (well, kinky for a priest). Using your imagination to fap could only be effective for so long, and even whacking off was beginning to lose its appeal.

But then Gat came along. All of a sudden, Varahal's dick was very, very interested.

He'd lived near a couple of tribes before, and he could grudgingly admit he found Gat's people waysexier than Hazel's pale-skinned kind. And Gat was definitely one of the better specimens he'd seen in his long lifetime.

It didn't take Varahal long to realize that Hazel was experiencing the beginnings of what could be one of his routinely-repressed crushes. Gat was the first male that had caught Hazel's eye and that meant double the denial, but Varahal didn't let some stupid thing like gender get in the way of nookie. And he was sex-deprived long enough that he was seriously considering attempting to take over the brat's body to jump Gat. At least the kid seemed to like looking at Gat — now Varahal had new material to jerk off to.

The villagers eventually stopped looking at Gat like he was some especially interesting insect and began treating him like any other normal person (even when he was in fact, not normal at all). Some of them even called out greetings whenever he went out on errands.

Gat watched absentmindedly as Hazel haggled with a shopkeeper for vegetables. He felt hands tugging on his pants and looked down at a little boy who was trying to climb up his leg. Gat blinked at him a couple of times before squatting so the little boy could clamber up onto his shoulders.

Hazel walked up to them, smiling. "You've got a way with them kids."

Gat hummed noncommittally as the boy patted his head.

"Did ya …" Hazel paused for a moment. The look on his face made Gat feel uncomfortable. "Did ya have any … family?"

Oh. "Didn't." He hesitated before asking, "Do you want kids?"

Hazel's hand flew to his chest to clutch at his pendant. "Goodness, no!" He reminded Gat of some of those ladies he'd met when he was new to the village.

"Priests can't have families," Hazel said. "And besides, even if I weren't a priest, don't ya think I'm a bit too young to be thinkin' about that sort of thing?"

Gat looked at Hazel — really looked— and was struck by the fact that he was probably only half as old as Gat was, maybe even younger. He was surprised at the sudden urge to protect Hazel that came over him, to keep him safe not only from the monsters they hunted down, but from any other miniscule threat that they might encounter.

Wide green eyes were suddenly in his field of vision. "You 'kay?" the little boy on his shoulders asked, bent over so he could look at Gat's face.

"I'm fine," Gat said.

Hazel reached up to tap the boy's knee. "Young man, I think I hear your mama callin' for ya. Let's see if Gat and I can help ya get back to her."

It was a shame, Gat thought, that Hazel couldn't be a father. He was the one who was good with children.

Hazel tried to keep his unholy thoughts under control. It was a sin to desire physical relations with people of the same sex, and Gat was most definitely male. It was even worse because he was a priest! He didn't regret choosing to follow in his master's footsteps, but he had to admit (even if it was just to himself) that the pressures and various rules involved in priesthood were an unwelcome addition to his life.

Did he really need to be a priest to be an exorcist? Maybe he could have become one without becoming a man of the cloth. Hazel bit his lip. Could he have avoided some of the more bothersome responsibilities that accompanied priesthood without giving up being a slayer? Why was it wrong for a priest to have physical relations in the first place? Was that Gat in the courtyard? Without a shirt?

In his haste to see Gat (and to tell him to put on some clothes, really), Hazel tripped over his own feet and barely managed to stop a head-first dive towards the window. He took a deep breath to calm himself before he opened the window. "Gat! Why on earth are ya walking around without any shirt?"

"It got ripped."

"Well, go find another one, then. You're likely ta give one of the nuns a shock."

Varahal wanted to rip out his fur in frustration. It wasn't really surprising that Hazel wasn't planning on making any moves on Gat or even properly entertaining his naughty Gat-centric thoughts, but it wasa shock to Varahal how much he, himself, wanted to fuck Gat. Or be fucked by Gat. At this point in time, he wasn't going to be choosy about the kind of sex he was going to get.

It had reached the point that Varahal actually tried to leave Hazel's body. The most he'd been able to do was to sort of take over Hazel's body for a few seconds before the kid regained control. Something was about to break, and that something was Varahal's dick because fuck it all he'd never jerked off so much in his life before.

Hazel felt out of sorts lately. He noticed that he tended to zone out more often, or find that he was holding something he didn't remember picking up, or be in places he didn't remember going to. At first it seemed like those episodes were just a couple of minutes long, but then it got to the point that Hazel had lost almost half an hour. He came to outside of Gat's bedroom door.

After that incident, Hazel locked himself in his study, sat at the corner farthest from the door, and tried to remember what had happened in those thirty minutes. It took a while, but he finally calmed down enough that he wasn't wondering if he'd killed somebody. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and vaguely remembered walking around the halls of the building, looking for someone.

His eyes snapped wide open. He'd ended up at Gat's bedroom door. Had he been looking for Gat? He bit his lip. It was true that the other man had been on his mind more often than not, as of late, but had he really been so preoccupied about thinking of Gat that he'd ended up losing track of that much time? It seemed absurd, but it also made some sort of twisted sense — after all, he was very much aware of how much time he spent, lying in bed trying to go to sleep and attempting to will away thoughts about how it would feel to have Gat pressed up against his back if they ever shared a bed.

Hazel took a deep breath in an attempt to pull himself together. Now that he knew what the cause was, how did he fix it? It just wouldn't do, zoning out and losing track of himself or of the time. He couldn't really ignore his feelings or thoughts — after all, wasn't that what he'd been trying to do since the beginning? — but Hazel wasn't quite sure if he could bring himself to face the alternative. Talking to Gat about his possible depraved (though very, very appealing) fantasies was not something that he was looking forward to.

The day that Hazel bought Gat a pair of guns was both the worst and best day of Varahal's life ever since he got stuck inside of Hazel. They were forty-five-caliber Colt Bisleys with seven-and-a-half inch barrels and Varahal thought that they were the sexiest things ever. The only thing that could make the image of Gat with guns even sexier would be if Gat was wearing chaps and nothing else, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"Do ya like them?" Hazel asked nervously. "I remembered that ya were one of the best marksmen in your tribe and since you've been such a great help 'round here, I thought I'd get ya somethin'."

Ugh. The kid was acting like some lovesick idiot.

Hazel fidgeted in place, playing with the brim of his hat. "Gat, say somethin'. I mean, I'm guessin' ya like 'em, but I'd like ta be sure'cause I can get ya somethin' else —"

"Thank you."

Gat's deep voice went straight to Varahal's cock. He would kill (literally) to hear Gat talking dirty, but that was yet another item on the list of sexy things that Gat was never going to do in this lifetime.

Gat inspected the guns, his usually stoic features intense with concentration, his hands handling the weapon quickly and surely. He checked the bullets and thumbed back the safety and Varahal really didn't know much about guns, but at that moment, he really wished his dick was one, if it got Gat to handle him like that.

Gat knocked on Hazel's door, carefully carrying a large bowl of warm water in one hand and a washcloth draped over his arm.

When he didn't receive an answer, he opened the door and peeked inside the room. "Hazel?"

Hazel lay on the bed, a thin blanket pulled up to his chest. He opened bleary blue eyes and croaked, "Gat?"

Gat set the bowl down on the bedside table before pulling up a chair to sit on. He gently squeezed Hazel's arm to let him know he was there.

Hazel had gotten a fever the night before, and it seemed like it was only getting worse. Gat had declined the nuns' offer to help take care of Hazel — he knew that Hazel would be horrified if one of the sisters had given him a sponge bath, or helped him change clothes. The duty fell to Gat, and he was determined to make everything as painless as possible for Hazel. And he didn't really mind the additional work of being Hazel's nursemaid, of sorts.

Gat began to unbutton Hazel's shirt, but stopped when Hazel's hand came up to hold his wrist. "Sponge bath," Gat explained. He needed some way to cool down, and he knew that Hazel was probably uncomfortable being covered in sweat.

"Ya don't need no excuse to get me naked."

Gat blinked, surprised at the sound of Hazel's voice. It sounded a bit deeper than usual — did Hazel also have a cough? And then the words sank in. "Hazel?"

Hazel's face was flushed with fever and he was still sweating, but he was leering at Gat like he was a particularly juicy steak. "A big guy like ya probably has a big gun. Why don't ya lemme take a gander at it for a bit?"

Gat glanced at his waist to make sure he wasn't wearing his holster. What gun was Hazel talking about? The Colts were locked away in his drawer. He only took them out whenever they went on an exorcism.

Hazel began to rub his thumb against Gat's pulse. "I'd let ya handle my weapon anytime ya want. Just be careful 'bout it goin' off."

Gat was extremely confused. He carefully removed Hazel's hold on his wrist. Had Hazel's fever gotten worse? As he leaned closer to check, Hazel suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled himself up to kiss him.

Gat panicked, pushing Hazel away. There was a dull thud as Hazel's head hit the headboard. Gat panicked even more. He grabbed Hazel's shoulder and shook him as gently as he could. "Wake up," he pleaded. When Hazel didn't respond, he shook a bit harder. "Hazel, wake up."

When Hazel slowly opened his eyes, Gat finally managed to start breathing again. "Sorry," he said, fingers carefully moving through Hazel's hair, against his scalp.

"What happened?" Hazel asked. Gat froze. "Gat, what happened? Why are ya apologizin'?"

Hazel must have hit his head harder than he thought. Gat swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat — it was his fault that Hazel was sporting a bump on his head, and he needed to be man enough to apologize for it. "Pushed you away. You hit your head."

Hazel looked even more confused. "Why'd ya push me away?"

Gat paused. He didn't want to lie to Hazel, but he wasn't relishing the conversation that they were bound to have. "You kissed me."

Hazel didn't think he'd ever blushed so hard in his life before. It felt like his entire face and neck was on fire, and he just wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Gat was just looking at him, as if he were waiting for answer, and he was still holding onto Hazel's arms.

Hazel wanted to apologize — Gat was already taking care of him on top of everything else he did around the church and Hazel was practically molesting the man.

But.

But Gat hadn't really said he didn't like it. And he hadn't left Hazel, or let go of him, so maybe it was okay?

Hazel took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and leaned up to kiss Gat again. He felt the bigger man freeze, but kept at it, awkwardly licking at Gat's lips when Gat didn't push him away again. He grasped at Gat's wrists, knowing that he couldn't really keep Gat from escaping if he really wanted to.

He felt Gat slowly relax and was surprised when one of Gat's hands came up to cradle the back of his head again. Then there was a hand on his chest, rubbing him through the thin material of his sleeping shirt, making him shudder at the feeling.

Gat quickly took control of the kiss, his tongue forcing Hazel's back into his mouth, and then moving against it. Hazel felt himself growing hard, and whimpered. This was exactly like one of his fantasies, except much more intense than anything he had imagined. He could feel Gat's hard body pressing against his smaller frame, could feel the fingers of one hand rubbing against his scalp while another hand slowly worked its way into his pajama bottoms.

Hazel cried out when Gat's hand wrapped around him, his fingers digging into Gat's arms. Gat's thumb rubbed at the tip before he began to really stroke Hazel. It was the first time Hazel had ever felt anything like it — he'd never even touched himself before, always just lying in bed and waiting for his erection to subside.

He tried to twist away from the sensation, but Gat was between his spread legs, most of his weight keeping Hazel pinned against the bed. Hazel tried to close his legs, but only ended up squeezing his thighs against Gat's hips. Gat's mouth moved to his neck, sucking against his pulse point.

"Too much!" Hazel sobbed. Gat licked at his neck as if in apology before tightening his grip and pressing just under the head of Hazel's dick.

Hazel's entire body arched up and he could feel the hard line of Gat's own cock against his as he came.

Gat's mouth latched back onto his as he lay panting on the bed. Hazel felt him fumbling with his own trousers before he pulled out his dick, hard and leaking. He couldn't really do much aside from trying to kiss back as Gat brought himself off quickly, almost violently. Hazel felt Gat's come on his stomach and moaned.

Gat managed to avoid collapsing on top of Hazel and lay beside him, his eyes closed. When Hazel felt like he could talk without sounding like he'd run a marathon, he poked Gat's shoulder.

"So. How about that sponge bath?"

Gat smiled at him and kissed his forehead.

Cockblocked! By some damn human priest! He'd taken over Hazel's mind just when he was weak and sick but the brat had to find some way to regain control just when the fun was starting! The world was fucking unfair! And there wasn't even any realfucking.

Varahal lurked in the back of Hazel's mind and swore that one day, he wouldget to bang Gat (and be in control so he could fully enjoy it). Or he'd at least die trying.

What the fuck. What the fuck. Was this seriously happening right now? Gat did not just crumble into dust in front of him. He couldn't have, because Varahal hadn't even managed to screw him yet and this was not happening at all and he was going to fucking killthat goddamn four-eyed monk.

As Hazel attacked Ukoku, Varahal didn't hesitate to lend the brat every bit of power he could so they could kill the fucking cockblocker.