Series: Monoshizukanohi//Naruto AU
Rating: MATURE. This section: impact play, bondage, D/s relationships, electrostim, sounding, toys
Pairing: Kimimaro, Haku, and a Mystery Guest
Word Count: This section: ~3375
Warnings/Notes: D/s relationships, set in Monoshizukanohi AU, language, references to abuse, m/m sex
Spoilers: None whatsoever.
Summary:It’s been a year since Haku left Zabuza, saving his life but making him ache for what he’s lost. Kimimaro’s doing his best to help his friend, but at a great toll to himself. When Neji tells Kimimaro a VIP at Break wants a night of his time, hope bubbles up like a forgotten friend. But can the Mystery Lover really accept both Kimimaro and Haku and all the baggage that comes with them?
“Still here, Kimi,” Kakashi said, and a warm hand rested on Kimi’s chest. “This is me,” Kakashi said, and the hand moved. “He’s here, though, just taking care of some things.”
“T-thank you,” Kimimaro whispered, and adrenaline spilled into Kimi’s veins and fed the insane urgency that started flames in every nerve center of Kimimaro’s body. He heard shoes on flagstones that went soft on the rugs, heard a clink, a cloth being removed –
The table…he got the drape off the table.
- and Kimi had to stop himself from holding his breath and then, breathing again, had to stop himself from abjectly begging the stranger to touch him: somehow, anyway he wanted, but just…
Oh God, please…
“Soon, soon,” Kakashi soothed, hand stroking lightly. “Little longer, Kimi, just a little longer…”
The lack of sight and only being able to half-hear was suddenly overwhelming and enough to make Kimi nearly angry. It wasn’t like him – none of this was – but he’d never been here before, and it was so stupid for him to compare this to anything else. Oh, Kimi’d played: rough, dirty, good and bad. He knew himself, knew the line he usually had to hold, but he felt his control flaking into a pile of ash and nothing had even happened, yet.
Haku filled Kimi’s mind; the care and love Kimimaro had labored to give and show for a solid year. Knowing Haku waited for him – patiently and alone – made Kimi ache and need in equal proportion, and he yelled at himself over the roar of nerves that no matter what, they had each other, and he needed to calm down and remember he was here to please someone else.
But the internal cry and demand for reason couldn’t overcome the crazy, awful hope that lived in the darkest part of Kimi’s soul where he never looked or wandered as it was so dangerous to do so. In that deep shadow flickered-fired the idea that perhaps this wouldn’t be the only time this Master would want Kimi. The thought made him feel heavy, deep, shame – he didn’t even know how the man played, yet. He knew he was vetted, knew he was experienced, knew plenty to be here…
Knew that this was the man who’d written the only kind of love letter that Kimimaro could ever understand, and hope and lust and submission and love tangled together into a knot and sank into Kimi’s gut, making him emit another tiny noise that he tried to hold back.
“Kimi,” Kakashi’s voice was closer – and Kimimaro realized he’d been trying to curl onto his side: toward where he thought the Master might be. He could feel Kakashi against him, leaning over him to speak, low and soothing.
“Red and yellow.”
“Good.” Kakashi’s hand pet Kimi’s arm, and it calmed Kimi down a fraction of an inch. “We’re both here, we’ve got you…” Another firmer stroke along Kimi’s arm and Kimi unwound on the bed, chains jangling.
“Remember what we talked about,” Kakashi said softly. “He wants your voice, remember?”
“I-I’m sorry…” Kimimaro said, feeling utterly and hopelessly out of control. “I just want…I’m…I…” The words wouldn’t come, and Kimimaro panicked; the night had barely begun and already he was disappointing the man he wanted so desperately to please. He needed, he wanted, he had to -
“You just want what, sweet boy?”
Kimimaro froze on the bed with a small, hiccoughing suck of air. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it was rich and smooth. Behind the blindfold, Kimi’s eyes opened, and images of hot chocolate on snowy, winter days danced in Kimimaro’s mind; of old leather with chilly buckles, warm blankets under distant stars, hot springs steaming in sub-zero temperatures. It was…beautiful.
He didn’t realize until that moment that he hoped not to know the voice, should he hear it, and Kimimaro swallowed around the lump in the back of his throat.
“Answer him, Kimimaro,” Kakashi said gently.
“You, Master,” Kimimaro said, voice rough but suitably servile, words coming as though magically called forth by the aural comfort of his Master’s words. “Forgive me, but I’m aching for your touch and humbled by the gift of your voice.”
A cool, dry hand circled and then gripped Kimimaro’s ankle. Kimi didn’t move, and the hand squeezed, released the hold, and started stroking Kimimaro’s leg, fingers light with feather touch.
“Thank you, Master…thank you…” Kimi said, feeling the gratitude to the very depth of his being and not caring that he was so undone so fast by things so simple.
“Letting go now, Kimi,” Kakashi said, and the warm hand left his chest and the presence left his side.
“Thank you, Master Kakashi,” Kimimaro said quietly.
“You’re very welcome. Enjoy.”
The bed shifted as Kakashi got up, and Kimimaro strained to remain still and compliant as he heard the door open and close. He licked his lips, heard rattling movement and quickly identified it as the cart shifting position. Master pulling it closer, no doubt, getting ready to begin. The fingertips on Kimimaro's leg never lost their contact, and when the rattling stopped, the touch moved upward over knee, thigh, and hip, pausing to brush the dermal in the skin near the bone. The man didn’t make a noise, didn’t utter a word, but the fingertips left hyper-sensitized skin in their wake as they swept upward to Kimi’s shoulder. Shivering, Kimi tilted his head toward the touch only to feel a careful hand clasp his chin and gently push it in the other direction.
The other ear…of course…
“Yes, Master,” Kimimaro said to the unspoken command and obediently turned his head. He struggled to swallow, throat feeling thick, and wondered at himself. The chasm between expectation and actuality was a sucking maw in the back of Kimimaro’s mind. There was nothing in the letter or the contract to indicate this man would be anything less than responsible. Courteous. True to his word and what he wanted for them both.
But knowing that intellectually and feeling it physically were two different things, entirely, and Kimimaro whimpered when something soft brushed the shell of his ear. It took three kisses for Kimi to realize what was happening, and he bit his lip, teeth catching on a ring.
The single word forced Kimi’s hands into fists and the next noise he made was amplified as wax worked into his ear and blocked external sound. A hand rubbed his side; made him relax. Kimi breathed, getting used to how loud the noise was with his ears plugged.
“Thank you, Master,” Kimimaro said, and discovered he couldn’t tell how loudly he spoke. It’d been a very long while since Kimimaro was deprived of both his sight and hearing, and time rendered the experience practically useless. He focused on the hand on his skin, noting the differences between fingertips and palm; between reassuring pressure and teasing caress.
When the mattress shifted and the hand on Kimi’s side moved lower, resting on his thigh, Kimimaro’s heart started to pound faster. That sound was amplified as well, the pulse both comforting and disconcerting. Remembering the letter and what came next, Kimimaro felt his lips part, lower one trembling, and he carefully spread his legs wider. Hands squeezed both his thighs, and it hit Kimimaro hard that he didn’t know if that meant stop moving, or that’s good, or something’s coming.
A second later and Kimi learned it meant Master would stop touching, and Kimimaro rested in anticipatory hell. He couldn’t hear the rasp and snap of gloves, but he envisioned them sliding onto shapely, strong hands. He couldn’t see the reality, but his mind played a movie of a masculine stranger reaching for instruments on the cart. Kimi’s eyes darted side-to-side under the blindfold, waiting.
The next sensations happened fast and became something of a blur lost in the shock of being thus touched. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the only time in this particular combination with this particular stranger. Gloved hands grasped Kimi’s mostly-flaccid length, moving it with a perfunctory and practiced touch. A swab and the cool sensation of drying skin; the hard tip of plastic and gel oozing inside Kimi’s cock, and the silent sense of satisfaction that Kimi had offset the bars through the head of his dick because he loved sounding and didn’t want aesthetic metal to get in the way of pleasure.
What pressed against his tip and started to slide inside was not the rigid weight Kimi expected, however, and he gasped. Flexible and light, something that felt more like a catheter tube than anything else slowly moved within but not nearly as deeply as a cath or even sound, and Kimi whimpered when it was done all too soon. The hand held him in place, doing something else that Kimimaro couldn’t identify with specifics but could contemplate in imagination, and Kimimaro hardened, his breathing kicking up as he felt the alien object flex while muscle and blood shifted.
“Oh…oh, God…” Kimimaro said, and he thought he said it softly but couldn’t tell. “Master…good, feels…good…thank you.”
The words earned Kimi the faintest of squeezes to his shaft and the tiniest turn to the tube in his cock, and Kimi didn’t try to hold back the noise he made. The hand moved him, adjusted, and then let go slowly: one finger at a time. Again Kimimaro couldn’t see, but he could envision what came next, and the thought made him groan louder, large muscles in his thighs twitching. Bare hands brushed the inside of both of Kimi’s knees, and immediately Kimimaro pulled his legs up and wide, happy that his bones and musculature let him split to lay open and easy. He might not be as young as the boy toys in Break; might not be everyone’s cup of specialized tea…
But Kimi could bend, move, slide, glide, and hold himself in ways no one else could manage.
Kisses to his inner thigh made Kimi pant. “Yes, Master,” he said quietly: encouragement, plea, and answer to unspoken command all at once. “I’m yours to take whatever you see fit to give.”
Master held his mouth to Kimimaro’s thigh and Kimi felt lips spread into a smile. The praise made heat spike down Kimimaro’s spine, and it held him steady as the mouth left and the hands momentarily vanished. The seconds of waiting were well worth it when the touch came back, and a slick gloved finger pressed and massaged Kimi’s anus, working and teasing in equal share.
“Please,” Kimi pleaded. “Yes, please, Master, at your pleasure…” The words were a mumbled bit of long-practiced prose, but here they felt far too true. Kimi shivered as the caress continued, fingertips probing, pressing, slicking. A subjective eternity later and two fingers pressed firmly against Kimi’s body before withdrawing to be replaced by an object without any give. The plug pressed and entered Kimi to a symphony of sighs and soft encouragement, Kimimaro’s spine arching slightly off the bed. Only able to hear himself, Kimi’s breathing was loud and eager, and it was simple just to feel and want and burn, captured as he was within his own skin.
Plug seated, Kimi pressed his knees into the mattress as hands left and returned bare, and Kimimaro gasped when questing fingers sought and touched one bar in his guiche ladder. The touch was gentle – a caress; like the man explored something he’d been wanting to examine.
“Mm,” Kimi whimpered, understanding and knowing what the other man wanted. “M-Master…please…touch me, yes…oh please…”
The touches continued, careful and deliberate: a brush, a gentle pull, a press of the lengths of metal beneath skin. A warm palm cupped Kimi’s balls, and he felt the exploration continue up the five bars there, every other subtle manipulation pulling a sound from Kimi, who lay still, eager, and trying not to anticipate. He barely felt the fingers on the seven bars of metal up his dick, the touches were so light, but his head jerked when the weight on the bed shifted. Frowning, words bubbled up Kimimaro’s throat, but they dissolved into syllables of sound when a mouth pressed a chaste kiss to his side, a faint fingertip touch ghosting over his hip and stomach.
“Oh-oh – ” Kimi grunted when a hot tongue licked a trail to the nipple with only one bar, and he coughed a cry when lips, teeth, and tongue attacked without a trace of the tender nature of the touches to his lower body. The mouth on him was hungry, the teeth unforgiving; the lips pulling with force.
“Yes,” Kimi managed to half-hiss, position, anxiety, denial and sensation all working too well to drive Kimimaro to where he wanted to be. Strong hands seemed to slide everywhere, nails dragging lightly and making Kimi shudder. He got entirely lost as a hot mouth explored his torso, calling out when teeth bit with perfect depth; moaning when a tongue teased the twice-pierced nipple; going silent when lips found Kimimaro’s neck and let him bare his throat to the onslaught.
There was nothing in the letter about this; it told what would happen but it never detailed that the Master would make him feel so…so…wanted. Necessary. The phrase, “Worship him with my mouth” was always something Kimi did – on his knees, on his back, but with his eyes down and his aim to please.
It was not something ever done to Kimimaro. Not like this…not even Haku really got to kiss and touch because Kimimaro wouldn’t let him; stopped him before Kimi felt guilty about it and where it might lead.
And kisses like these had never happened at Haze, when Kimi used to play the kind of Scenes where bleeding was the fastest way to win hearts. Certainly his old Master from the long-ago days of twisted desire never…ever…
“Master…? I…I…” Kimi trembled and his heart skipped a beat when the mouth left his skin. Immediately Kimi started to apologize – for something, anything – but the words got trapped between two sets of lips meeting and melding.
Kimimaro’s hands came off the bed, chain clanking and fingers reaching for a split second before Kimi remembered his purpose and let them fall back onto the soft sheet, boneless. With a soft cry, Kimimaro opened his mouth, feeling a tongue dance with his, and Kimi shook when he felt noise resonate and knew it to be the other man’s groan. A hand reached and twined in Kimimaro’s hair, and Kimi felt soft strands fall against his cheek and arm –
Long hair…he has…long hair…
- and a body pressed against his chest. The shirt was soft against Kimi’s bare skin, the warmth of the man beneath the fabric coming through like a fever. Kimi panted hard when Master broke the kiss, and then choked on forgotten words when teeth caught and pulled at a ring through Kimi’s lower lip. When the pressure increased and hot air spilled against Kimi’s chin and mouth, his breathing took on pitched tones of need.
And when Master moved to press his lips against Kimimaro’s cheek and mouthed something that felt for all the world like, beautiful…Kimimaro turned his head, gasps roaring over the solid wax and waves of want that burned in his veins and threatened to stop his heart.
Movement – moments passing – and Kimimaro felt palms stroking all over followed by a width of leather securing down his torso. Calm settled and rocked Kimimaro with a gentle sway, enforced by hands helping him move and another strap coming over and pressing down on his thighs. He felt kisses on the skin of his ankles, felt them clasped by soft fur, held in place, and Kimimaro rode submission out to sea. He felt lips against his in a light kiss, and Kimi tried to lift off the bed for more when his entire body jerked hard with an unfamiliar jolt of sensation.
Kimimaro didn’t speak, didn’t move, and barely had time to relax against the leather and chain that held him down on the bed when it pulsed again – not as jarring this time but plenty enough to make Kimimaro’s breathing stop and start; grow hectic, get erratic.
The third pulse lingered and tingling, hot, nearly-impossible sensation shot down Kimimaro’s cock, through his balls, up his ass, over his prostate, and then spread in a crackle-fire of feeling that made Kimi think he might lose his mind in the nanosecond before it stopped.
“Fuck,” Kimimaro grunted, and his brain tried to work – to show him carefully detailed, curling script that said this would happen; that warned, told, and explained electro-stimulation in a language even the most clueless could understand – but the neurons misfired when three quick pulses made Kimi strain against the bed and straps, body bucking.
Hands on his body, mouth on his nipple, the tingling sensation in his balls and dick continued in the down time, and Kimimaro relearned how to breathe. His ass clenched hard around the plug, and he jerked in pleasure and torment. A thumb caressed his parted lips, fingers pressing against his cheek, and Kimi’s first attempt to speak failed. He swallowed and tried again.
“More?” Kimimaro asked, head turning into the touch and voice a whisper and not much else. “Please? More, Master?”
Fingertips caressed Kimi’s cheek, lips brushed his, and the pulsing was back – uneven, varied, demanding. Kimimaro thought he might go deaf from the sound of his own labored breathing, and when the pulses sped up to short, staccato bursts, Kimimaro’s grunts and moans rose in crescendo in his own skull. Wicked, awful, perfect, and delicious, Kimimaro reveled that he didn’t know what came next; couldn’t predict the waves, and he moaned praises and pleases as he was shoved hard out of his mind and thoughts and worries, and into a body that rolled and writhed. Kimimaro had no idea how long it went on. Sometimes the shocks were mild, low, and he felt the bed move, knew Master shifted: touching, kissing, stroking skin between pulses. When his cock jumped and entire groin came alive with current, Kimi called out, cried for more and for mercy, and everything got jumbled and tossed into a stream of sensory overload.
When a biting ebb and flow of electricity made his balls ache, Kimimaro barked a laugh followed by a startled grunt when something lashed across his thigh, above the strap. Kimi tried to form the words – to ask for another – but the pulse bit again, Kimimaro’s cock and torso twitched hard, and he sucked in a shaky breath as something flicked the other thigh. “Nnngh – M-mas - ?”
But Kimimaro didn’t finish the inquiry: the pulses shifted to slow, undulating things that quickly built in intensity – a long ramp up to a bonfire that made Kimi feel insane – and Kimimaro yelled and felt the lashes – quick, slap – on each leg. Something brushed his balls, struck thigh again, and there was no reprieve: pulse and hit; jolt and tease. Kimi’s brain fritzed: he tried to remember the plan and couldn’t, he panicked, thrashed, and felt a hot hand on his calf.
“Close…Oh God please yes…” Kimimaro bucked and howled: another slash, another, and the damned pulse didn’t let up: didn’t ease or let him breathe or let him come down. It built, and built and felt like it would kill him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” Kimimaro yelled, and some part of him knew he should find some respect, but he couldn’t, and he whimpered and babbled in warning.
“So – Oh fucking hell – close. Nnngh. I can’t…oh – oh, oh – I – ”
Everything stopped, and it took Kimimaro’s breath away. He lay, gasping, shaking, and aching, not knowing if the cease fire was good or bad or part of the Scene. He couldn’t find reason or sense, and the part of his brain not alight with anticipation and fear was startled: getting Kimi here wasn’t easy. A rare treat that would be amazing were Kimimaro not terrified over why Master stopped. Usually there were cues: a harsh laugh, a biting word, a bit of praise…a sound. But Kimimaro had no sounds or sights: only silence and stillness and short, gasping, breaths.
A/N: PLEASE NOTE: This is not a how-to manual. This is fiction and should be read as such. Thank you very much for reading!