Kimimaro, Haku, and a Mystery GuestWord Count:
~58,000 in TotalWarnings/Notes:
Overall: Kinky fic is kinky. Sensory deprivation, bondage, impact play, electro play, sounding, D/s relationships, other. Spoilers:
Kimimaro thought he had his life together: he works at Clubs Break and Bliss, he serves his employers to perfection, and he denies himself the things he really wants to remain safe. But then Haku has to escape a damning relationship in order to survive, and Kimimaro spends a year taking care of his new friend in any way he can. His loyalty and exhaustion have not gone unnoticed, and the Powers That Be in Monoshizukanohi make Kimimaro an offer that will change his life.
Kimimaro woke up to an empty bed, an open bathroom door, and the sound of running water. He blinked, sat up, and ran his hands through his hair, wincing at the tangles. He looked over at the open door, steam slipping through the space between frame and edge, and shook his head. Thoughts of a naked and bathing Master Itachi roused any still-slumbering part of Kimimaro’s mind, and he bit his lip. It would probably be good to give Itachi some space; the last thing Kimimaro wanted to do was crowd the man. After such an incredible night, Kimi didn’t want to do anything to push his luck. He was dying to broach the subject of Itachi meeting Haku and how soon that could happen; anxious to show Itachi that last night was amazing, and Kimimaro wanted to do it again as soon as possible.
But Kimimaro had no idea how to talk about those things or what would be welcomed and what wouldn’t, and it didn’t do to be so overeager.
Scrambling out of bed, Kimimaro stood and stretched. Eyes flicking to the bathroom door more often than Kimimaro would ever admit, he quickly grabbed Itachi’s clothes, shaking them out. He carefully laid the shirt and pants over the chair while he stripped off the soiled linens from the bed and deposited them in a basket beside the door. Kimi retrieved the clothes and laid them out on the bare mattress as if they were fresh, straightening collar and cuff, picking off pieces of lint and strands of hair, and finally setting Itachi’s shoes – low boots, Kimi saw with appreciation of hand-made craftsmanship – on the floor at the foot of the bed.
The water shut off and Kimimaro jumped at the sound of the faucet. Licking his lips, he grabbed the dirty blanket and pillowcases, shoving them into the basket with the sheet. He threw away various debris, straightened the cart’s contents, tossed things in a biohazard bin, and wondered at himself when his heart nearly stopped as the bathroom door opened wider.
“Good morning…Itachi,” Kimimaro said, turning, happy that he forced his tongue to speak the appropriate name. He kept his eyes down, hands at his sides, though the temptation to fidget as Itachi padded over the rug on bare feet was nearly impossible to resist. Kimimaro breathed deeply, trying to stay calm.
Itachi paused next to his shoes, and Kimimaro’s eyes scanned upward far enough to see that Itachi’s hair dripped down his back, and Kimimaro felt a lump in his throat when he saw a mess of scars: some were evenly spaced – deliberate – others were haphazard, white-pale slashes, and they sliced over his flanks, lower back, and shoulders. Kimimaro wanted to run his tongue over them, and he bit the offending muscle, absently noting that Itachi wore a towel about his waist, and the Uchiha eyed the room with a slow turn of his head and body.
“I see you’ve been busy.”
“Yes…” Kimimaro didn’t know if he should say the man’s name in conjunction with every statement, as was tempting, but he didn’t want to be annoying, so he let the word stand alone.
Feet moving before his brain even fully registered the command, Kimimaro walked over to Itachi, eyes gazing longingly somewhere in the vicinity of his collar bone.
A hand warmed and damp from the shower cupped Kimimaro’s chin and tilted his face up and back. “Let me see your eyes.”
Kimimaro immediately looked into a chocolate gaze that was warm and full of life despite the fact that Itachi’s expression remained unaffected. “So pretty,” Itachi said, almost as though he spoke to himself, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward in what Kimimaro took to be his version of a smile.
“I don’t mind eye contact when we talk, Kimimaro, unless I tell you otherwise. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course, Itachi,” Kimimaro answered softly, getting lost in the way the very corners of Itachi’s slanted eyes formed faint lines indicating what Kimimaro thought was pleasure.
“Good. Thank you. Now…next order of business…” Itachi murmured the last and Kimimaro couldn’t help the startled, pleased sound when Itachi closed the distance between them, pressed their bodies together, and kissed Kimimaro like he’d never done it and would never get used to it now that he had.
Knees weak and breath coming faster, Kimimaro blinked, dazed, when Itachi pulled away with a soft, wet brush over Kimi’s lower lip. Itachi hummed. “Better.” Releasing Kimimaro, Itachi turned to walk back into the bathroom. Opening a drawer while Kimi watched, he pulled out a plastic package with various toiletries in it. Frowning slightly, Itachi sighed and ripped the thing open, pulling out a small, black comb.
“May I assist?” Kimimaro asked, coming closer and looking with greedy eyes at the long, damp, hair.
Without a word, Itachi handed the comb back to Kimimaro over one shoulder, eyes on Kimi in the bathroom mirror.
“Thank you.” Kimi gathered the heavy weight of Itachi’s hair into one hand and began working the comb through the ends.
“It’s too long,” Itachi mused, and again he spoke as though to himself. Kimimaro didn’t know if he should answer or not, and hesitated.
“Mm?” Itachi questioned.
“Forgive me…I’m just…you sound like you’re…” Kimimaro faltered.
“Like I’m talking to myself,” Itachi said quietly.
“I could be misinterpreting, Itachi.”
“You’re not. Comes from years with only myself for company.” Itachi shrugged and Kimimaro continued to work on his hair. “Never been good at conversation.” Itachi turned his head, one eyebrow arched as he glanced back at Kimi before facing the mirror again.
“I’m not very good at it, either,” Kimimaro admitted, carefully working on a knot. “Haku’s the genius when it comes to knowing what to say.” Kimimaro swallowed, the mention of the name worrying him.
“I see. Amazing thing, that. Considering.”
Understanding that Itachi referred to Zabuza’s rules, Kimi nodded. “Quite.”
“How soon may I meet him?” Itachi asked.
“We are happy to try to accommodate your schedule,” Kimimaro said carefully, running the comb from Itachi’s scalp to the ends of his hair.
“This morning, then?”
Kimimaro’s eyes snapped up to look at Itachi’s reflection, and he saw the intense focus in the Uchiha’s stare. “This morning,” Kimimaro repeated, voice thin.
Turning slowly, Itachi faced Kimimaro, leaning back against the sink. He didn’t speak for a moment, and Kimimaro reached to bring Itachi’s hair to rest over his shoulder. Kimimaro glanced down as he started to work the comb again.
“A long time ago, I was a proud man,” Itachi said, voice so quiet that Kimimaro resisted the temptation to step closer and turn his head to hear better.
“I thought I could do anything. Family curse, that sort of confidence.” Itachi's mouth twisted and Kimimaro watched his Adam’s apple move as Itachi swallowed. “I’m…not good at this.” He reached up to rub his eyes with one hand.
Watching smooth slicks of midnight separate around the comb's teeth, Kimimaro inched closer. "I will listen should you wish to speak, or I will serve you in silence as you prefer, Itachi." Kimimaro paused to work up courage. "But…I love…enjoy
…your voice, and hearing about you."
For a moment, Itachi didn't react, and Kimimaro frowned until cool fingertips brushed his arm in the gentlest comfort Kimi could imagine. He relaxed again and combed Itachi's hair.
“Our mother died after Sasuke was born," the Uchiha continued. "Cancer. Sasuke doesn’t remember her. Our father was a bastard. The only other family was our uncle, who is not…well. He’s no figurehead for normalcy.”
Kimimaro hesitantly reached and touched Itachi’s shoulder with his fingertips. The Uchiha’s dark eyes roamed over Kimi’s face before focusing off in the distance again. “Our father…died. And the way it happened...Sasuke and I fought. I told him horrible things about forgiveness.” Itachi’s voice lowered to a mutter. “How he shouldn’t ever forgive me. I think I believed it easier to deal with him despising me than with the guilt that Father died. That I helped.”
Itachi shook his head, lips thin. “Mercy killing. Family and company wanted Father to linger. Father didn’t want to waste away. Pulled the plug, so to speak. Ancient history with a flatline ending. Sasuke…" Itachi abruptly stopped speaking, and Kimimaro looked up to see a fathomless gaze fixed at nothing. Kimi was familiar with the look -- Haku got it when he relived some slice of hell, his mind turned into a cage of screaming, begging, rinse, repeat.
Hesitation left and Kimimaro acted on instincts built by a year of mending fractured souls. He leaned closer, kissed Itachi's cheekbone, ran one palm up the brunette's arm, nuzzled his nose against wet hair: little movements to show he was there and to offer signposts back to reality. Kimi's heart hurt and throbbed, and he trembled when Itachi sighed a sound that was almost Kimimaro's name.
"Old things," Itachi said.
"It's the weight that matters, not the age," Kimimaro replied. Fingers brushed his arm again -- comfort and permission -- and Kimimaro kept his eyes down as he pulled away far enough to stroke the long strands of Itachi's hair.
"Sasuke hated me for being chosen to end Father's life, and he hated me for taking away a piece of family. Of history, riddled with pain though it was. He left with Naruto, and didn't defend me when..."
Kimimaro let the silence wax and wane. A bead of water escaped from Itachi's hair to run down his stomach, and Kimi caught it with a fingertip as Itachi shivered.
"Couldn't expect such things from him," Itachi said to himself, and Kimimaro held his tongue. "Sasuke was gone. Uncle left to manage the business, what little of it there is to run, really. Mostly handled by…other people. Smarter.”
“I can’t imagine someone more qualified than you to do anything, Itachi,” Kimimaro said quietly but fervently. The praise earned Kimi a corner-twitch smile, and Itachi reached to rest a hand on Kimimaro’s hip.
“I used to be proud. Now I’m lonely. And not too stubborn to admit it. Sasuke and I work on things; see one another from time to time, and I can even tolerate that blond child attached to his ass but…”
“Lonely,” Kimimaro said, feeling the word sink through him like a rock.
“Yes,” Itachi agreed. “And I like you. Want you. Would love it if you joined me for dinner tonight. But before I can ask, I must meet Haku.”
“Will you ask him to dinner as well?” Kimimaro said to his feet. Until that moment, his nudity hadn’t bothered him, but now he shivered and longed for clothing. He found himself pulled into an embrace, arms resting against Itachi’s chest. Kimi could still smell faint traces of the cologne, and he wanted to immerse himself in Itachi’s skin and scent.
“I cannot predict outcomes when I know so little,” Itachi said softly into Kimi’s hair. “But I will meet your Haku, and I will ask. It seems…” Kimimaro waited again in Itachi's arms, holding his breath.
“Oh God. It seems like I’m a fool to hope to like him as much as I do you. Like I’m an old idiot for wanting it.”
Kimimaro looked up and met Itachi’s gaze. “I understand.”
Brown eyes searched Kimi’s face. “This morning, then?”
“When you’re ready.”
“I just need clothing.”
“Forgive me, Itachi, but I wish you didn’t.” Kimi spoke the words without thinking, and his eyes widened as he realized he was flirting.
Itachi chuffed a sound, gaze becoming warmer, the lines next to his eyes creasing again, and just like that, everything was right in Kimimaro’s universe.
“I don’t need it in my own home,” Itachi mused.
Kimimaro’s breathing hitched. “I can be ready now, as well.”
“Not necessary.” Kimimaro smelled slightly better than an open sewer to himself, but he didn’t give a damn when faced with such hope.
“I’ll follow you home?”
“Please,” Kimimaro whispered. “Yes…please.”
Itachi kissed Kimi lightly on the lips, eyes open. “Let’s go, then.”
Kimimaro stepped back, letting Itachi go to walk over to the bed, drop his towel and begin to dress. Kimi said nothing, but in his mind he answered:Yes, Master. As you wish.~*~A/N:
All the chapters of this story have posted Audio Files. Check out the sidebar (*Points to the left side of her page*) for a free download. Short chapter is short, but wanted to give Itachi's history some space. Also...I feel the need for a group hug coming on...Any takers?