Darkprism (demented_dee) wrote,

Naruto Fanfiction // The Gala - Part III

Title: The Gala Chapter 3
Series: Monoshizukanohi//Naruto AU
Author: Darkprism
Genre: Drama/Romance/Kink
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Primary is Itachi/Kimimaro/Haku with references to three-quarters of the Monoshizukanohi world.
Word Count: Almost complete.
Warnings/Notes: THIS CHAPTER: BDSM, impact play, denial, flexibility, oral, masturbation, toys, D/s relationships, crossover, voyeurism, language, etc. OVERALL: BDSM, D/s Relationships, heavy crossover, language, impact play, nudity, language, gothic motif, side story, anal, oral, voyeurism, etc.
Spoilers: None whatsoever.

Summary: Upon their return from a cruise of the world, Haku suggests that Itachi and company throw a party...

A/N: This is a birthday gift for my friend, Kimya, who said she would love to see, "Haku playing the piano." The rest evolved from there.

I'd like to say that there are 22 people represented in this story from six fandoms. Because I like to make things easy on myself. XD

Also! A huge shout-out to hoka_no_koto! To whom this chapter is also dedicated thanks to the kind support. Much ♥!

Kimimaro and Haku emerged from the assembling mass to flank Itachi, each man taking an arm. Kimi was smiling sweetly and Haku was flushed prettily from drink and merriment. Itachi kissed each of his treasures in turn, and addressed the crowd: "If you'll come this way, please, we'll adjourn to the banquet hall."

In a combination masquerade march and circus parade, everyone began the trek from library to dining room. Chatter lifted to the high ceiling of the reception hall and floated through the carpeted corridors. Itachi was unaccustomed to so many people surrounding him, and while it was somewhat startling and slightly unnerving, it was also pleasant, this happiness that spilled and filled the spaces before them. Gone were the earlier nerves and minor dread, replaced by satisfaction of tasks performed to perfection.

Of course, it also helped in no small part that as dinner grew nigh, so too did the evening's more private festivities. Itachi relived the details of his plan, the enumeration of preparation pleasing to all of his senses and every dark crevice of his mind and soul. The thoughts lifted him aloft and carried him with sure strides into the banquet hall, and the appreciative gasps and utterances further served Itachi's will.

"Welcome, one and all," Itachi said when everyone was in the room. Serving staff brought up the rear of the bunch, walking with their heads bowed, and they quickly went to their posts. "You will find placards with your names at your appointed seats."

"Very nice," Ibiki said to Itachi in passing, leading his boys toward the cherry table laid with the French china. The room itself was a combination of English Regency and Victorian gothic. The walls were red silk panels that rose to a thirty-foot arched ceiling encrusted in golden lattice trim. A fireplace in black marble stood at one end, and a mirror surrounded by cherubs and angels loomed on the opposite side. The table sat fifty without issue in plush red velvet chairs, but tonight it was laid for a spacious guest list, those absent still with place settings to be with the rest in spirit. The music coming from the house speakers was lighter, now, a harp chiming in the forefront, and Itachi took his spot at the head of the table, Kimimaro and Haku on either side.

Chairs were drawn, linens unfurled, and like a ballet troupe at the height of their tour of stage, the serving staff appeared to begin filling goblets and plates and trays. The only disturbance, if one could call it that, occurred when Nagato rejoined the fray. He supported Soubi, who had the ragdoll lethargy and doe-eyed smile of an individual recently put through painful paces. Nagato's wardrobe had gained a sash that hung carelessly about his neck, and Soubi's scars were bare for all eyes to see. Nagato accosted a serving girl, who accepted his instruction with utmost sincerity. She rushed away while Nagato took his seat, and she returned with a thick cushion no doubt stolen from a nearby drawing room. Soubi knelt, wrapped around and rested in Nagato's lap, and Nagato wasted no time in politely demanding for special accommodations to be made for his "little one." The servants obliged, and though Nagato's attentive ways earned a few curious glances, no one dared speak to the negative. Eventually Abel pretended to recognize Nagato as though temporarily and charmingly addled. Nagato was game enough to remind Abel kindly that, yes, they'd known one another years ago, and conversation jumped from one side of the table to the other with ease.

Inexplicable triumph surged through Itachi followed by the swift click of deeply rooted satisfaction. He sat idle, hopeful, and watchful, the food coming and going without personal remark, other than noting it was extremely well prepared and presented. Kisame's teeth glittered in the light thrown from flameless candles and antique, towered, crystal chandeliers. Gaara and Sasori were handy seatmates, side-by-side without need for commentary. Ibiki, Izumo, and Neji were enjoying a rather heated debate over wine, and Shikamaru, Genma, Raidou, and Kotetsu were reliving visits to Vegas. Kiriwar seemed suited unto himself, Deidara and Gunji still chattering about every banal thing under the sun and stars. Kiba and Abel chatted, Miroku laughing loudly at Kiba's banter. After some recovery time, Soubi gingerly sat in a chair, leaning on Nagato's shoulder and listening intently to Abel, who sat opposite. Itachi bantered any time discussion flowed in his direction, but otherwise, he relaxed and observed his friends with pride and content.

"My Lord, does the scene meet you with approval?" Haku asked.

"It does, lovely boy, it does."

A clock in a nearby drawing room struck the hour, Kimimaro clasped Itachi's hand, and Itachi brought it to his mouth for a kiss to the knuckles. Haku practically danced in the seat, exquisite in the joy of a successful night thus far, but the lovely boy's face morphed into clear concern. Itachi glanced at Kimimaro, and saw the sweet man stared at a picked-over plate. Kimi's free hand held a fork, and it shook with a faint tremor.

"Kimi?" Itachi asked, tugging Kimimaro closer. "Is there something the matter?"

"No, Master," Kimi said, and Itachi was soothed somewhat by the level notes of Kimi's voice. Observation and practice told Itachi that his boy was not ill or upset, but anxious. Itachi patted Haku's arm to say all was well, and Haku sipped water, managing to be both watchful and engaging to Kisame, who sat to Haku's right.

"Come closer, sweet boy," Itachi commanded, and Kimimaro's eyelids fluttered shut before he obeyed.

"Do you wish to stay for dessert, my love?" Itachi said sotto voce in Kimi's ear.

"I wish to be dessert for Master, My Lord, if it is still permitted."

Itachi smiled, touched the tip of his tongue to a ring through cartilage, as Kimimaro's head blocked the view of Itachi's actions from the rest of the table. Kimimaro's sharp intake of breath was entirely worth it. "The hour has struck," Itachi murmured.

"It has, Master."

"And so shall we begin," Itachi said, flashfires of unmitigated craving exploding through his veins. It took effort to stay still, not to tremble before the awe-inspiring enthusiasm his sweet boy had for the games Itachi loved to play. Lived to play, in truth, because they were made grander, vital, and magnificent by Kimimaro and Haku's involvement.

"You are to go to the bathroom adjacent to the ballroom where tonight's performance will take place," Itachi instructed. "You will remove your clothing, kneel, and edge yourself until my arrival." Kimimaro gasped and Haku laughed at the precise second to cover the sound. And though Itachi admired Haku's attentions, he didn't hold illusions that the rest of the table was oblivious to the sort of conversation he was having with Kimimaro. Such knowledge didn’t trouble Itachi in the slightest; let the guests wonder how the evening would unfold. Let them ponder and find excitement in the mystery, let them hope that somehow they would be a part of what Itachi had planned for Kimimaro.

For the reality would still stun them all, make them whisper for months to come, though not a hand nor a finger but his own would touch either of Itachi's precious men. His affair with his sweet, servile boy would be his alone, and the permissive coveting drove the starving beast of control wild within Itachi's breast.

"You will find no relief, only the hope for it," Itachi said.

"Yes, Master."

"Very good, sweet boy. You are excused to the service of your Lord and Master."

Kimimaro whimpered but withdrew. He took a moment to gather himself, swallowing thickly and glancing at the chatting guests, most of whom feigned indifference to what was going on at the head of the table. Gaara openly stared, however, as did Kiba and Nagato, the latter drinking deeply from a cup and smirking at Itachi, raising the glass in salute. Deidara cackled, and Kiriwar bellowed for more wine like a Viking calling for mead. Haku distracted Kisame, and Raidou, who sat next to Kimimaro, appeared concerned for Itachi's boy. Raidou said something that Itachi couldn't hear, and Kimimaro reassured his friend with a wave of palm and sincere smile.

At last Kimimaro stood, arousal obvious in the glimpse Itachi had before Kimimaro left the room. "Where's he off to?" Raidou asked, though he evidently quickly thought better of the question, the regret of the asking plain on Rai's beautifully scarred face.

"There are preparations to be made for the evening's entertainment," Itachi replied, waving away a plate and finishing his wine. He stood, and everyone went silent and speculative. He addressed the table while holding a hand to Haku, who took it and stood primly to Itachi's right. "Preparations, I fear, that my lovely Haku and I must both attend, in order to seal this evening's show with perfection. I invite you to finish the course, enjoy your drinks, and the staff will escort you to the ballroom in due time."

"No hints for the after party, eh, Itachi?" Kisame asked.

"No," Itachi answered, tucking Haku's arm through his when the servants had cleared chairs from Itachi and Haku's path. "Though I know it will please. I realize some of you cannot linger after dinner, and I beg your forgiveness that I will not be present to bid you good night individually. Let me say here and now that I've enjoyed every second of our moments together, tonight, and wish you a safe and gratifying time until we meet again."

Speech concluded, Itachi led Haku away from the table erupting with applause and conversation, and he didn't stop until they were safely in the hallway. He swung Haku around and into a tight embrace, bending to claim Haku's lips and tongue with his own. He cupped and caressed Haku's face and neck, reveling in the wistful sighs and tiny moans coming from his ephemeral belle.

"Merek is assisting you in my absence?" Itachi asked, feeding his urge to claim without touching any place that might give his boy true satisfaction.

"He is, My Lord," Haku whispered, fisting Itachi's jacket and stilling the involuntary roll of his hips.

"Very good, lovely boy. My impatience to witness your entrance and partake of your talents grows by the second."

Haku's eyes were smoldering coals. "As does my longing to show our gathered friends how any and all of my person and education belong solely to My Lord's loving estate and serve only with the hope to please and further My Lord's esteem."

Itachi chuckled. "Your enthusiasm and vanity please me, as does your refined tongue."

"A refinement that would be humbled by any chance to attend and increase your happiness, My Lord."

"Later, boy," Itachi promised with a last lingering kiss and gentle, if reluctant, release. "Off you go, now."

Haku swept a performer's bow. "To improve my condition to be more richly deserving of your sight, My Lord."

Itachi inclined his chin and waved one hand, wildly in love with his boy and their game. "Increasing your beauty would be impossible, lovely boy, too close to the divine as it is, but I cannot wait to see your choices to articulate its edges and depths with your clever devices."

Haku positively glowed, rising and pivoting with a skip in step. Itachi waited until Haku was out of sight around the corner, sighed wistfully, and made haste through the maze of his home to return to the library. He retrieved his hat and cane, ducked through a side door, and strode across marble, tile, and rug until he reached a closed double gate guarded by servants. They smartened their stances with Itachi's arrival, but he ignored them into passivity, continuing past the ballroom set up for the party and into a narrow hall lit by sconces. He paused in front of the bathroom door, its wooden latch poised in his palm. It would be unlocked, the fear of being caught adding to the suspense, but at the last second, Itachi chose to step away. He calculated how many minutes it'd been since Kimimaro's departure, guessing at the time and silently reciting the schedule the serving staff knew to keep in order to manage the events of the night.

"Not yet," Itachi muttered, shaking himself to relieve tension and to let go of the fierce apprehension that lit his nervous system. He passed moments envisioning his boy on the other side of the wall, stroking in accordance to Itachi's demands and waiting for Itachi to appear.

The vision and current arrangements reminded him so much of that first night at Club Break. He'd been almost sick with nerves and eagerness, biding time with Kakashi until Kimimaro had arrived and been made ready. Hatake had been most sympathetic, seemingly put at ease by Itachi's pasty complexion and unending pacing, satisfied that Itachi's concern was sincere with such real evidence of the fear of failure.

Itachi had explained to Kakashi that the fortune and turn of tides still seemed a dream. He'd thought Kimimaro beautiful and perfect since he'd first laid eyes on Orochimaru's boy. When he thought there was a chance in hell of interacting with the brave man who had escaped a bad situation, Itachi hadn't cared in the slightest what he may have to do in order to gain the opportunity. Kiba's plot had been fortunate, a bit of karmic reward for dues paid. He'd spent days putting together his fantasy proposal for himself and for the sweet, sincere man employed by the most powerful foursome in the city. And he wasn’t ashamed to admit to tears when Neji had called him with the mind-blowing news of acceptance. Too much to hope for, too much to want, and Itachi had lived and died in the need to show Kimimaro a scene to undo them both, but with true affection and gentleness at the reigns, not cruelty. It was a desire that had increased tenfold in the light of what he'd gleamed from Neji about Kimimaro and Kimi's unnamed "roommate", and even now, standing where he was and about to embark on another pleasure journey with his sweet Kimi, it seemed surreal that such courage and spirit would ever crave Itachi's hand in any capacity, much less in one that gave Itachi such peace.

Quite suddenly, Itachi was without the wherewithal to stay outside any longer. He grasped the handle, shoved into the room, and a mournful, soft cry stirred him into a fever pitch. Itachi firmly shut the door, locking it. A claw tub stood to his left, the latched door beyond leading into the ballroom. A pedestal sink was before him, oval mirror hung above it. The antique, chain-flush toilet was in a closet with a narrow door, and in front of it was a leather lounge with swooping half-back, single roll cushion at the head. Spread over the gleaming tile before the lounge was a fur rug, and on the rug knelt Itachi's boy.

Kimi was nude as requested, gems and metal gleaming and catching the low light. His knees were spread wider than most men could manage, Kimimaro's contortionist skeleton and musculature forevermore fascinating and functional. His cock was straining beneath the workings of his fist, and Itachi got lost in the movement of skin around the ladder and the bolts piercing the flesh. Kimimaro's balls were also similarly adorned, and drawn tightly against his body. While Itachi watched, Kimi threw back his head, exposing lean lines of throat, and cried out. He let go of himself, clawing at his thighs while his dick twitched enticingly, the reddened head and shaft slick with pre-come.

"You are a sight to behold, my obedient, beloved boy," Itachi said, dropping his hat carelessly to the ground and leaning his cane next to the sink. He cupped himself through his slacks, walking and stroking in the spotlight of Kimimaro's riveted attention, but he let go to slide hands into Kimimaro's hair and encourage Kimi to lean against him. "So perfect in your easy beauty, Kimimaro, so intoxicating in your ability to please."

"Thank you, Master," Kimimaro whispered, bending to Itachi's will like a supple sapling. His breathing was labored and his shoulders rocked in a shiver. He nuzzled Itachi's hip, but didn't turn to mouth Itachi's erection. He clasped Itachi's calves, but loosely, merely a sign of affection and quest for grounding. No more and no less than Itachi asked, but always impressive in the little surprises that made their time together so precious.

"Rise and go to the sink, sweet boy," Itachi said after a moment of comfort. "Face and grip it with your feet shoulder-distance apart."

"Yes, Master." Kimimaro spoke on autopilot, climbing to his feet, and Itachi went to an ornate, short cabinet next to the sink that held hand towels for guests.

Withdrawing a key from his pocket, Itachi knelt and unlocked the cupboard and retrieved a box that he'd placed there some days ago. He set it on top of the towels, unlocking it with a different, smaller key, and putting the ring back into his jacket when he was done with it. Itachi stepped behind Kimimaro, and he sighed when Kimi pushed into Itachi, craving the touch that Itachi was happy to give. He traced forearms, biceps, shoulders, and abdomen, and he kissed an offered neck with reverence.

"Sweet boy, look at me." Kimi did as Itachi asked, the blatant honesty and simple love in his green eyes so pure it would wring water from stone. "For tonight, you must make use of safewords should you wish something to stop. A simple no or cry to slow will not suffice to still my actions. Do you understand and agree to this?"

Kimimaro licked his lips, chest rising and falling faster and skin flushing in faint pink desire. "Yes, Master. I do."

Itachi saw his mouth move in a flicker of a smile, and he channeled confidence and command to mold his features. "Very good." Itachi tucked hair behind Kimi's ear and sighed through his nose, as though slightly regretful of what he was about to say. The artifice worked beautifully to infuse Kimimaro's body with tension. "I'm afraid, my love, that I'm not going to be easy on you."

Kimi trembled, fingertips going white against the porcelain, and the reaction was perfection, itself. "I live to serve Master's wishes and whims, whatever they may require of me."

Itachi hummed, pleased, and wrapped an arm around Kimimaro. He kissed Kimi's cheek, caught an earlobe and accompanying jewelry with his teeth, and opened the box's lid with his free hand. Kimimaro tripped a quiet whine at the sight of what was within, and Itachi hugged Kimimaro all the tighter when Kimimaro had to struggle not to let go of the sink, not to shrink away from toys that made better sense panic but made Kimi's cock throb with enough force to dribble moisture.

"I know, sweet boy, I know." Itachi rocked Kimimaro in a gentle sway. "I ask much of you, but it's because my need to have you dependent upon me and lost in my arms is too great, this night, my Kimi."

Kimimaro nodded, and Itachi petted Kimi until he began to unwind. Itachi knew that Kimimaro wanted nothing in the world more than to be held safely in Itachi's control. Kimi loved to hurt and ached to be kept.

However, Kimimaro could languish for hours, days, or weeks in the space where there was still plenty of conscious thought as to what Itachi wanted and more than enough awareness to worry about it. Kimimaro didn't plunge like Haku into the furthest reaches of submission that could be found, but stayed, deliberately or not, in a more comfortable space wherein Kimi absolutely thrived but didn't come undone. Itachi wanted Kimimaro deeper than that for this session. He wanted Kimimaro unmade to the point where there was only need and exactly one person to meet it.

Itachi didn't require that of Kimi often, as the recovery on the other side was lengthy, but Itachi also knew it was such intense rounds that proved to Kimi more than anything else how much Itachi adored, wanted, and needed his sweetest boy. Dominance was always a balance of limits, and if Itachi didn't test the extremes of Kimimaro's borders, Kimi tended to wander into self-doubt. Such musings were entirely unacceptable, and so Itachi kept his metaphoric fingers to the pulse of Kimi's needs all the time. He did that for both his boys and also for himself. Itachi wanted his men independent and with choices, always; he had no interest in mindless slaves without a voice or in restless submissives without opinions.

But Itachi would be lying if he said having either or both his men thoroughly under the spell of safety and power he could cast didn't complete him and bring about a type of contentment that could only be forged and founded in absolute rule.

When Kimimaro's breathing had slowed and the tension somewhat drained, Itachi picked up Kimimaro's most hated anal toy and pressed it to Kimi's chest so Kimimaro could stare at it in the mirror. The heavy, metal plug resting against Kimi's sternum was based on the medieval torture device known as the Egg of Anguish. A medium-sized, tapered oval was at one end, a cranking wheel at the other, and the latter was held in place by a perpendicular metal bar and kept there by a padlock if one wished. There were four notches for the wheel, and as one slowly turned the device to higher settings, the oval bloomed like a sadistic flower. Itachi had used the thing himself before ever attempting it on his boys, and it created a fascinating open feeling well in one's depths. Not pleasant, not necessarily painful, but entirely vulnerable-making and inescapable. The toy, once inserted and cranked to the first notch, did not dislodge easily. It was carefully designed to keep pressure on the prostate that would not cause damage to the gland, and this version of the Egg, unlike its ancestor, would not rip delicate linings or force the sphincter beyond repair. The petals' edges were smooth and thickened for safety, and the maximum range was still within the limits of sane. It was, in fact, smaller than some of the beads Itachi had required Kimimaro's body to take.

Kimimaro said he didn't care for the sensation the toy created, but judging by how fast Kimi had fallen to floating the single time they'd used it on him, Itachi suspected the sweet boy didn't like what the device did to his semblances of control. Kimimaro had a blind spot when it came to play, as he would say with utmost sincere honesty that he did not ever wish to resist submerging into the bliss abyss. Itachi knew that to be true, but Itachi could see the shadows Kimimaro didn't know loomed behind him. Kimimaro preferred to serve, and service required some cognitive function. The egg was not the only piece of equipment that could make Kimimaro lose his mind, but it was one of the more effective on a short list.

Itachi caressed Kimimaro's torso with lazy trails of the metal egg, and knew he'd made the right decision on how to start their session when Kimi's respiration slowed to resemble slumber and the beautiful being in Itachi's arms began to shudder. "You will take this for me, sweet boy, and much more tonight, unless you cry safeword."

"Yes, Master," Kimimaro murmured, and he tipped his head back to rest on Itachi's shoulder.

Itachi trailed faint fingertips over Kimi's Adams' Apple, and kissed Kimi's throat, suckling briefly at the pulse. "What did I tell you of the time you will spend witnessing this evening's performance, my Kimi?"

"That..." Kimimaro swallowed, lips parting when Itachi found the metal bars spearing one nipple and teased them to tug at the budded skin. "That I would not sit in comfort, Master."

"And what do I always do, my delectable boy?"

"Keep your promises, Mas-ter." The final syllable was a stuttered utterance, and Itachi continued to swirl his index finger around the swollen crown of Kimimaro's cock, pushing at the bars that speared it.

"Good," Itachi ground into Kimimaro, let the boy feel what his acquiescence inspired. "Look at me."

Itachi waited until a summer green gaze drowning in a sea of darkness met Itachi in the mirror. He had to kiss Kimimaro's neck and cheek, dip into his boy's slit, before he could continue, else he try to speak and nothing but a moan emerge at the sight of his sweetest lover so trusting. "It will go as thus," Itachi droned, slightly louder to rise above the white noise he knew would be whirring in Kimi's ears. "You will hold on to the sink, stand as I dictate, and I will slide the egg into your ass and crank it once. When that is done, you will edge yourself to the point of orgasm and stop." Itachi smiled against Kimi's jaw while Kimimaro stuttered a cry, and the faint prickles of stubble and the smell of musk aroused Itachi further.

"Mmm... and when that is done, I will light up your skin with pain until I'm satisfied." Itachi squeezed the front of Kimi's throat and relinquished it to grip Kimi's chin, the pressure just this side of violent. Itachi tasted Kimi's gasp like fine wine, rolling it on his tongue. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, Master." Kimi was breathy, hard, shivering, and his eyelashes fluttered.

Itachi reveled in the clear signs of approval before he chose to continue, softer, now, and with images of Kimimaro dancing in agony filling his mind and threatening to dislodge all sense of order and propriety. "There is but one requirement, my sweet. During your suffering and during your pleasure you are to make not a single sound."

Kimimaro's eyes widened, the panic clear. "Master?"

"And if you do, sweet boy," Itachi said, overriding Kimi with volume and unyielding grip. "You will earn another crank, another edging, and another turn beneath my swinging arm."

"Oh God," Kimi whispered, biting at the metal stabbing his lips, but his hips rolled. "Oooh God... Master... yes..."

Itachi's slow breath was shaky. "And I fear, beloved boy, that any sound at all will force me to fill you for the duration of the performance." Kimimaro twisted, groaning, and Itachi cooed a soothing noise, maintaining his physical trap and letting Kimimaro feel its unwavering resolve. "But don't fear, my sweet. I have limits to the cruelty I can inflict on one so treasured. Three cranks after the first are all you may earn, as I will not push you past the abilities of the device."

Kimimaro's head lolled back and forth on Itachi's shoulder, heaven on earth in Itachi's grasp. "Yes, Master, thank you, Master, oh sweet Christ, Master..."

"Good." Itachi eased his hand and busied himself nibbling the rim of Kimimaro's ear for a long moment, coating his own willpower in concrete despite an erection that was staining his silk shorts and screeching to be buried in a tight, hot hole immediately if not sooner.

"M-Master?" Kimi whispered.


Kimimaro placed the lightest of kisses just behind the hinge of Itachi's jaw. Itachi tilted, giving his boy room and cupping the back of Kimi's head in encouragement and to show such affection was completely allowed. "Later, My Lord, will there be... more?"

The relief that swept through Itachi upon hearing the question nudged a groan from Itachi's throat. Not only was Kimimaro accepting of the impending events, he was already daydreaming about what was to come. "Yes," Itachi replied, bending to Kimimaro's mouth and taking it without mercy. "There will be another encounter in our chambers, sweet boy."

"With... with my brother in submission in attendance, Master?"

"In attendance and in participation."

Kimi panted against Itachi's lips, nodding, and undulated, earning nothing but the drag of smooth, chilly sink along the underside of his dick. "Thank you, Master, for allowing me to serve."

Itachi rumbled a gentle laugh of admiration, and heard a sound that he identified as the doors to the ballroom opening in preparation for the guests' arrival. The reminder that time was of the essence inspired focus. "You are welcome, my sweet. When we begin, you may answer direct questions, you may breathe as your excitement or pain dictate, but so much as a tone to the breath will trigger a round."

"In delight, I live to serve, Master," Kimimaro mumbled with practiced but heartfelt respect.

Itachi released Kimi, took up a tube of lube from the box, and coated the egg liberally. "Please spread your feet, hands on the sink's sides, and present yourself." Kimimaro's head dipped forward, the rest of Kimi's sleek body moving into position without comment. He arched his back, flattening the lower portion, and he kept his legs straight while bending just slightly.

Kimi's grace could shame the entire Russian ballet, and Itachi sighed in pleasure. He dropped kisses to Kimi's shoulders and nape. "My Kimi, my love for you is endless."

"And mine is twofold to eternity, Master," Kimi whispered.

"My sweet boy." Itachi lined up the oval to Kimi's entrance. "Your time of silence begins now." He hummed at the clack of Kimi's teeth, and Itachi teased the flexing ring with nudges of the toy and circling smears of slick until the urge to see Kimi's ass suck the plug within was too great. He pushed the egg inside, glancing to watch Kimi's expression to judge the speed. Kimimaro's eyes were shut, brow fixed in firm concentration, and there was no betrayed discomfort until the metal guard that kept the wheel protected from penetration and the toy from sinking too deeply touched Kimi's cheeks. Lips mashing together and shoulders inching higher, Kimi stayed silent, waiting.

Itachi didn't draw out the torture. He steadied the egg by the flange and removed the rod from its neutral holding position. With a single finger, he spun the prong of the wheel, the motion seamless but with telling resistance as Kimi stretched, and Kimimaro jerked, grappling the sink.

"Perfectly done, my sweet," Itachi praised, locking the notch and letting go. The device didn't move, and Itachi wiped his hands on a towel before stroking Kimi's flanks. "Now walk your feet together."

The command almost earned a sound -- Kimimaro trapped it just in time and tensed in response, instead. He obeyed, though at a crawl, and Itachi didn't rush him, knowing exactly how the position would increase the pressure and not allow one to forget for a second that one's ass was stuffed and caught.

"Yes," Itachi said, a hissing sigh, "so good for me, sweet boy." He knelt, kneading Kimimaro's thighs and the globes of Kimi's ass in a firm massage for a full count of two minutes. He licked to suck a mark, and Kimimaro withstood the pleasure with hitching rasps that were barely within the range of allowance. "Mmm, yes..." Itachi sighed around his truncated noises of need. It was always the flesh and structure of men that Itachi craved, never women. He liked a man's brand of supple softness, a slight give over heavy muscle, velvet scruff overlaying a playground built to endure. Itachi didn't smack or do anything to startle Kimi, but he did grip, squeeze, and rub, urging the skin to warm and awaken before standing and pressing himself along the length of Kimimaro's back, still petting what he could reach. "Answer in one word: how many days since completion?"

"Three." The syllable was explosive, and the effort Kimimaro took to manage oxygen thrilled Itachi.

Tangling a hand in Kimi's hair, Itachi pulled just the way his sweet boy enjoyed while the other hand kept up the friction on Kimi's skin. "Again in a word: have you enjoyed my preparations to make this night a protracted provocation?"

"Yes." The affirmative was a low groan, and it plucked the strings of Itachi's arousal like a harpist to instrument.

Itachi snapped his gaze to fix on Kimi's, and his lips tilted in a smirk. "Would orgasm delight you, my sweet?"

Kimimaro's jaw went slack, and he nodded as much as allowed with Itachi's grip and weight. Itachi wrapped an arm around Kimi's middle. "Then you will show me your need. Hand on your cock, stroke as you will, eyes on me." Itachi abruptly turned to rasp harshly against Kimi's temple, teeth flashing in the reflection. "And do not come. Begin."

The slip-slap of skin being tugged for maximum friction filled the air, and Itachi showed evidence of his approval with grinding hips, rhythmic yanks to Kimi's hair, tiny groans, and whispers of encouragement and compliment. "Faster, sweet boy. I wish to see your craving... mmm... yes, Kimi, yes..." Itachi manipulated the piercings of both Kimi's nipples, savoring the straining tendons along Kimi's throat. In mere seconds it was over, Kimimaro stopping and slamming palms to the sink's rim. There was no sound but staggering breath, and Itachi kissed Kimi's cheek.

"Swipe the head of your cock so I may taste your denial." The command brought about a widening mouth and a full-form sway, but Kimimaro wet one finger and raised it to Itachi's lips without breaking the rules. Itachi sampled the evidence with a thoroughly obscene smack. The sip of his sweet would tide him over until the later feast. "Good boy. And now the pain."

Swiftly, Itachi let go, Kimi's hair falling into a mesmerizing curtain. Itachi drew away and snatched up his cane. He twisted the snake's head, unscrewing it, and a thinner cane emerged, this one made not of antique wood like the main shaft, but of newer, flexible, fiberglass. It was thin, whippy, and had been used innumerable times to make his treasures squirm, beg, and weep in masochistic joy. He said nothing as he reset, resting the length of the shaft across both Kimi's thighs, just under the swell of cheeks. Beyond the bathroom, Itachi heard guests beginning to fill the ballroom. They would settle, finish dessert and drinks, but the thrum of urgency intertwined with carnality, and Itachi took his stance.

Kimimaro braced without being asked, and Itachi was grateful for the mirror, which still showed Kimi's expression though the sweet man's head was bent. Itachi flexed his wrist and began a series of soft strikes that wouldn't mark or land with anything like full force. Kimi took them in obvious pleasure, and Itachi uttered sincere praise at Kimi's abilities in an unending murmur. He moved up and down Kimi's legs, swatted Kimi's ass, and got lost in the rhythm of repetition.

After several passes, Itachi gradually added more momentum, monitoring Kimi closely and holding steady with the impact when Kimi began to flinch, to gasp, to strain in the taking. Kimimaro's pale skin showed the stain of pain beautifully, and when Itachi was satisfied that Kimi could take more, he began cracking the cane in sharp, descending, horizontal flicks that struck both thighs. The swish and whack was hypnotic and continual in the small room. Itachi held back, however, keeping the swing to quarter and half impact for two reasons: it didn't take much to strike true with this cane, and he thought his sweet boy would want more than a single round. His caution was rewarded after the tenth hit: Kimimaro cried out in a meager, high gasp.

Itachi didn't reprimand or comfort, though his veins sang with delirious triumph. He'd been right, and he'd crafted well. He was with his boy, governing with rules and impact, and the rapture of the moment was almost an agony. Itachi tucked the cane under an arm, swept around to Kimimaro's presented backside, and clasped the plug's wheel. Kimi's fingers slipped on the sink, the protesting friction the only other sound aside from heavy rasps and the clink of metal. Itachi removed the pin holding the wheel and spun. It took effort this time, and the flex of musculature before him was heavenly. He barely got the toy locked again when Kimimaro's knees shook, and Itachi hugged Kimi's torso with both arms. "Pleasure yourself, my brave boy."

In a hectic, jerking scramble, Kimimaro grasped his erection and stroked. The effort to stay silent was clear in every drop of sweat, every tensioning twitch of jaw, and in the violent shake of his head. Itachi watched in humble adoration as Kimi got lost in the battle to obey, and in the fight, Kimi relaxed the grip on reality, withdrew from circumstance because there was no room for anything except the war. Itachi smoothed Kimi's hair, and in a fraction of a moment, Kimi ran headlong into the wall of denial, face crumpling and mouth opening in a soundless wail of frustration.

"Perfection," Itachi whispered, repeating the word over and over to make sure Kimimaro heard it. Kimi curled over the sink, hands and forearms resting upon it, and Itachi put weight on Kimimaro's back before starting again with the cane. Welts began to blossom, Kimi jumped with each collision, and Itachi slowed his swings. He thought this may well be enough, and he drew upon experience, listening to Kimi's frantic sighs and broken inhalations. Two rounds was plenty for Itachi to make good on his word; more than enough to satisfy Itachi's sadism for the moment. In his mind, he reformed his assessment of Kimimaro's state, made mental notes and adjustments to plans, and precisely as he lifted the cane to strike the final lash -- just as Itachi opened his mouth to inform Kimi that this stage of the game was complete -- Kimimaro moaned, the rise and fall unmistakable and wet with need.

"Oh," Itachi said, the intimation of emotion escaping his lips without his permission. He took necessary seconds to get control of himself, the room whirling with Itachi's rise in blood pressure and the dump of adrenalin. He didn't trust himself to say actual words, so he filled in with low groans and messy kisses along Kimimaro's spine. Salt made saliva pool, he was too warm in his clothing, but at that moment, Itachi could be hung upside down and crucified without complaint, so little did his own discomfort matter.

"My precious, divine boy, prepare yourself." Itachi tucked away the cane and got his hands on the wheel, undoing the pin. "Going to turn now. Silence, my sweet, you can do this." Itachi spun with terrific slowness, and Kimimaro bucked, forcing Itachi to stop, shush his lover, and start again. "I know, Kimimaro, almost there. Take it for me, my sweet." Kimimaro's head was in the sink, shoulders heaving and the blades making knobby wings. Itachi saw the third notch and slipped the pin home. "Done." He rubbed slow circles on Kimimaro's lower back, and Kimi arched into the caress in a steady roil. Itachi encouraged Kimi more upright, covered Kimi's hand on the sink, and squeezed.

"Can you endure strokes in my name?" Itachi asked, and Kimi's dazed eyes found Itachi's in the mirror. They were dim, fearful, desperate. "Ah, there's my boy." Itachi pressed a thumb to Kimi's bottom lip, pulled it down in warning, and slipped the digit into Kimi's mouth, gripping behind Kimi's bottom teeth. Labored breaths grew positively tormented, and Kimi's sight grew distant. "Just three yanks to your dick, sweet boy, balls to crown so I can feel you shake for me." Kimi's head flew in a soundless no, and Itachi found the ability to be firmer for Kimi's sake. "You can. You will. Now, boy."

The porcelain screeched under Kimi's palm. Itachi held Kimimaro close, heart hammering and waves of protective instinct, feral hunger, and steely resolve bathing his guts in fire and ice. Kimi paused, balanced, grasped himself and tugged a long, masturbatory pull along his angry cock.

"Again," Itachi ordered, and Kimi's soundless hiss blew hot around Itachi's thumb. Kimimaro obeyed, and Kimi's cock pulsed, dangerously close.

"Wait." Together they breathed, and Kimi's lips closed around Itachi's finger, tongue licking in heated suction. "Again, Kimi," Itachi dictated. Kimi stroked, arched like a live wire, and then wilted into Itachi's hold.

"Beautiful," Itachi praised, again repeating the word over and over. The tone and the inflection would make his point, even if Kimimaro couldn't translate the speech. Itachi stayed where he was, half supporting and half leaning, and rested the cane to Kimimaro's thigh. Kimi's face darkened in defeat and anguish, and Itachi rocked his lover. "One, sweet boy. Just one for me." Itachi didn't give quarter, striking like a viper, the impact echoing. Kimi's eyes flew impossibly wide, and Itachi dropped the cane and cradled Kimimaro.

"Rest, my sweet love, rest." Itachi didn't negate any of his rules, choosing instead to let Kimimaro cling to them. He knew the sink was an anchor, the silence the path to pleasing Master, and Itachi's presence was solace and confirmation that Kimimaro was doing what Master wished. Itachi closed his eyes, buried his face in Kimimaro's neck and hair, and waited for the overwhelming crescendo to calm and the ratcheting tension to plateau.

When Kimi's minute physical tells proved to Itachi that his boy was capable of movement and comprehension, Itachi prepared to shift. "To the floor with my help, sweet boy. Kneel wide for me."

Mutely, Kimimaro nodded, pushing up and letting Itachi help him to the ground. He sat in a split, inner thighs corded with malleable muscle, and he threw his head back when the heel of the egg touched the rug beneath him.

"Adjust so you're not resting on the plug," Itachi directed, supporting Kimi beneath the arms while the sweet man reconfigured position, flexing his feet to make it possible. "Good, very good," Itachi murmured. "Hands on me for balance." Again, Kimi nodded, but he was fixated on Itachi's groin, hot breath hitting Itachi's zipper. "Yes, sweet boy," Itachi said, undoing fly with one hand, the other on Kimi's shoulder to steady him. "You'll get what you want."

The air along his shaft made Itachi stifle a curse that might have alarmed the guests next door. He could hear the clink of glass, the burbles of laughter, the continual stream of chatter. He stroked himself, thumb over the head, and Kimimaro panted with unabashed and unashamed appetite. "Oooh, sweet boy..." Itachi said with unchecked avarice. "Suck me."

Kimimaro's eyes rolled, lashes damp and fluttering, and Itachi was unforgiving with the initial thrust, stopping any sound by driving into Kimi's throat. Kimimaro scrabbled at Itachi's legs, pushed beneath the jacket, and crooked fingers over Itachi's waistband. He gagged on Itachi's dick, coughing and wheezing when Itachi withdrew. Kimi didn't struggle or fight, merely tipped to make angles work and enveloped Itachi with a blend of suction, tongue work, and rhythm that should be illegal, else it drive recipients to straightjackets.

"Close, sweet boy," Itachi warned, yanking on Kimi's hair, dying at the excellence of the shudder the phrase inspired and at the sight of himself spearing his Kimi's lips with measured brutality. "You have me... nnngod... close... nnnfuck..." Itachi snarled, Kimimaro clung to him tighter, and Itachi kept release at bay with the crazed need to invoke his rule over his boy. "Jerk off. No coming. Now."

Hand met cock and Kimimaro was utterly compliant to the direction of Itachi's hold, surrendering to the face fuck with abandon. "Mmmm... godyess..." Itachi hissed at the sight of Kimimaro stroking, stopping, fisting fingers, and continuing. Kimimaro's dick was soaked in a sheen of fluid, purple-red-throbbing in color, and Kimi's obedience and give were Itachi's unmaking. With a garbled, muffled slur, Itachi sank deep, held, and poured into Kimimaro's constricting, panicking throat. He didn't relent until Kimimaro's forehead wrinkled in a telling frown of pain and suffocation, pulling out to a chorus of tremulous, breathy cries that Kimimaro clearly couldn't help. Ferocious, possessive, love ripped into Itachi with shredding claws, and he fell to his knees. He displaced Kimi's fumbling hand and wrapped it around his waist instead. Kimi burrowed into him, taking refuge.

An instant later, though, Kimimaro realized the error of his vocalizations, and Itachi was there to hold him in the ensuing panic. "Master, I'm sorry... I-I... just--"

"Shh, my sweet, be still, I'm here."

Kimimaro twisted, a sob escaping, and for a split second, Itachi lamented that the insanity had somehow not been enough; that Kimimaro still had thought to fret over right, wrong, rules or offense. The towering wall of terror and disappointment in himself threatened to topple, stealing Itachi's breath.

"Need." Kimimaro called in an explosion of air released from laboring lungs. "Can't... have to... to... oh God, Master, can't... I..." Kimimaro babbled, quickly degenerating into whines and whimpers, fingers seeking purchase and clutching at Itachi's clothing.

Itachi slumped and sighed in rich relief. "And you will, sweet boy. To the bench, now. Crawl." Itachi kept the demands short and sweet so Kimimaro would hear them. He fumbled to help when Kimimaro spun and made for the lounge, far, far steadier on all fours than would be possible standing. Itachi followed behind Kimi, struggling to stand and flailing to assist Kimimaro to lie down.

"Please, Master... mercy... mercy..." Kimimaro trilled in a high rasp.

"On your back, sweet boy -- carefully." Itachi's call for caution got through, and he made haste to straddle the bench, bending Kimimaro's knees and resting Kimi's feet on Itachi's thighs. Kimi was a gorgeous mess of pleas, tautness, tears, and seeking hips, and Itachi's eyes burned at the sight.

"Hands over your head," Itachi ordered, loudly, and Kimimaro complied. Twin thumps of impact resounded with the force of Kimimaro's grip, and his back arched, bobbing cock finding nothing but air. He cried out, uninhibited, and Itachi settled him, palms over hipbones.

"Take it out... out Ita-... Master... too much... gotta... mmmph..." Kimimaro bit his lip, and went stark still when Itachi grasped the end of the plug, merely holding it without pressure.

"Not yet, sweet boy. First this." Itachi bent to Kimimaro and covered Kimi's cock with one long suck. Kimimaro's wail fractured in the middle, and instantly he was pulsing, practically overflowing Itachi's mouth in thick, richly bitter release. Itachi swallowed over and over, wrestling Kimimaro stationary to elongate the orgasm, to force another spurt to coat Itachi's tongue. Every swell drained Kimimaro of fight, every lick wrung a cry, and ultimately he collapsed beneath Itachi's attentions, low moans continuous and tears freely flowing.

"There," Itachi said, kissing Kimimaro's length over one of the ladder bars. "Exactly as I want you, my Kimi." Itachi sat up and undid the lock on the plug. Kimimaro shook while Itachi unwound the egg, notes coloring each breath with dismay and longing. Itachi withdrew the toy to a deep shudder and another wave of tears, and he deposited Kimimaro's feet on the lounge's upholstery.

"You need do nothing but feel, my sweet," Itachi said, rising and feathering kisses to Kimi's face and chest. He wiped away some of the tears, stroked Kimi's reddened cheek, and remained long enough to register that Kimimaro was soaring somewhere else, unburdened by tangible geography.

"Fetching the box, sweet boy," Itachi said, speaking to soothe and let Kimimaro know he wasn't going anywhere. "I wish to clean you up and prepare you." Itachi rinsed the plug, bagged the egg to be autoclaved later, and put it back into the container. He returned to Kimimaro with the rest of the toys he needed, along with towels, deodorant, and cool wipes.

"Adore you," Itachi whispered, setting about the task of bathing Kimi and keeping his lover warm with towels and praise. Itachi minded pressure, kept his touch purposeful but tender. When every inch of skin had been rinsed and Kimimaro rested beneath soft terrycloth, Itachi swiped Kimimaro's underarms with the pleasant and familiar scent stick, and kissed Kimimaro's mouth until it responded in kind. Itachi unclasped Kimi's death grip on the lounge and tucked elbows and hands under the towels, still kissing with unhurried, lingering presses of his lips.

"I'm going to cage and fill you, now, my sweet boy." Itachi resumed his place on the bench, flipping back the makeshift covers to gain access to Kimi's lower half.

"Okay," Kimimaro whispered, yielding.

"Very good," Itachi nearly purred. He snatched the cock cage that they'd commissioned created to work around Kimimaro's metal. It cinched around the base of balls and penis like other cages, but had thinner bars along the shaft, more ventilation, and could be held in place by the bolts of Kimi's magic cross, if Itachi desired.

Tonight, Itachi settled to secure the cage around the piercings, knowing it would not be needed for the duration of the evening, merely for the next round of their game. Kimi's cock was limp and easy to manipulate into the chastity device, and in less than a minute the task was complete.

"Master?" Kimimaro asked, nearly inaudible.

"Yes, my Kimi?"

"Are you... must I..." Kimi hugged himself tightly, and the naked vulnerability in his downward gaze tried to slay Itachi in overheated blood. "The... not the egg?"

"It's gone, my brave man," Itachi comforted, and murmured in kindness at Kimi's gusting sigh. "I've something far gentler in mind for you."

Itachi picked up a narrow bullet vibrator with trailing cord. It was remotely controlled, easy for Kimimaro to manage, and Kimimaro's quiet grunt of relieved affirmation told Itachi he'd again chosen wisely. He slicked the toy with lube. "Here it comes," he warned, and lust stirred despite recent culmination, as Kimi's body took the plug. Itachi sank it to appropriate depth, wiped his hands clean on a towel, and put the remote in his pocket. "You are delight incarnate, my sweet boy."

Leaving Kimimaro to languish for a moment, Itachi stood and cleaned himself, face and hands. He smoothed his hair, adjusted his clothing, and put the box and soiled towels into cabinet and hamper.

When he was done, Itachi joined Kimimaro on the lounge, lifting Kimi's legs and scooting close. He rested against the lounge's half-back, and drew Kimimaro into his lap and onto his chest. Kimi came to him with an eager, grateful noise, nuzzling and wrapping an arm around Itachi's shoulder and neck. "And here we stay until you're ready to dress and return to the crowd," Itachi said, swaying and holding Kimimaro tightly.

"I... I don't wish to hold up the... the evening? I'm..."

"Sweet boy," Itachi interrupted, "you could never do such a thing, for it is not yours in capability. I however, can and will make arrangements necessary for your comfort." Kimimaro's breathing hitched, and Itachi kissed his lover's hair. "I will always take care of you, Kimimaro. It is my life."

"Ooh," Kimi sighed, any newly budding tension dissolving and leaving Kimi loose and pliant in Itachi's embrace. Itachi shut his eyes and mapped the texture of Kimi's hair with his lips. He tucked the towels around his lover, slipping a hand underneath so a thumb could draw lazy circles around the dermal at Kimi's hipbone. Kimimaro's choices in piercings and jewelry still intrigued Itachi. He had nothing pierced, himself, and wondered if his sweet boy would do him the honor one day. He mulled over options and basked in Kimimaro's smell and weight until Kimi shifted, head tilting. Knowing what Kimi wanted, Itachi cupped Kimi's face and kissed him. Light and languid gradually transitioned into deep and exploratory. Itachi set the pace, didn't let it quicken, and he gave himself over to Kimimaro's mouth until Kimi suckled at Itachi's tongue and withdrew, swallowing audibly.

"Master, I believe I could dress and join the party, if you think it wise."

Kimimaro's pupils were wide, devouring the grass green color like an eclipse. Itachi molded his features into a smile, nodding. "Very well."


A/N: Check out the extras to see toys, reference photos, notes on wardrobe, and all kinds of other goodies! Click here for the refs!
Tags: bleach, crossover, fanfiction, loveless, monoshizukanohi, naruto, side story
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