ANBU, We Have a Problem

“ANBU, We Have a Problem”

Author Note: I have tried to include all the necessary background from prior stories in this “Cat Bowl” series, so that you don’t have to read the other stories. However, to fully appreciate and understand the story, you need to read “Izumo’s Problem.” Reading “Shino’s Problem” before “Izumo’s Problem” would help even more.

Part I: “Shu’s Problem”

Most ANBU shinobi had fuck buddies, other ANBU nins, they turned to when they needed to get off. Shu didn’t have one. When practically everyone in ANBU that was bi was screwing Shino silly, he’d been the one the Aburame wouldn’t let in the door. Shino’s true love, Neji, had sleep with Gaara, a redhead, a redhead possessed by Shukaku, a demon raccoon. And Shu had red hair—a lot of it, a lot more than Gaara, more than was easily hid. Not only that, his ANBU mask was a raccoon. So he’d been left high and dry when everyone else was feel sated, trading stories about Shino, and basking in that happy glow of string-free fucking that was fucking hot. And once you’d stood around naked together shooting cum on the same guy’s face, it was a lot easier to fall into bed, to rub off on each other, and well, to become, if not exactly fuck buddies, frot buddies or 69 buddies or mutual-jerk-off buddies . . .

But Shu, well, had somehow gotten left out of the loop. He was a strong seme, and he liked ukes that were teaseable, molestable, that irresistible combination of shy and slutty. ANBU nins are not molestable, period. As for ANBU teasing, well, it often involved things you could be arrested for as a civilian. Moreover, ANBU teasing typically resulted in a kunai thrown at the head or heart at the very least. In short, the sort of guy that got Shu worked up with sexual desire wasn’t in ANBU.

The odds of an ANBU shinobi finding a nonANBU lover weren’t high; hell, Ibiki the head of ANBU’s Interrogation and Torture division, wouldn’t have interfered in their sex lives if they could take care of their needs on their own. And the sexual needs of an ANBU nin could, if not meet at least a little, seriously reduce the effectiveness of an operative or even a whole squad, and that in turn might mean that the ANBU nin had to “retire” because they couldn’t function at the level required. Assassination, torture, interrogation, spying, robbery, sabotage, and all the other things that no government wanted it known it did—the “black ops” or the “wet work”—all that required a certain type of ninja that wasn’t common, so losing someone in ANBU over sexual needs was unacceptable.

But sleeping with someone that could kill you in twenty ways in under a minute without even using a kunai was not a popular pastime. But Ibiki, the genius of interrogation, the sadist that knew every working of the human psyche and how to use it to his advantage, could find men willing to sleep with ANBU and keep his ANBU nins from abusing them. Shino had been his best find so far, but now that he was with his beloved Neji, well, he barely had time to even talk with his old ANBU fuck buddies. And Ibiki, being pretty much asexual, had more faith in his ANBU ninjas’ ability to live without sex than was warranted.

As a result, things happened that shouldn’t have—like certain men getting molested by other mysterious men that happened to have exactly the skills and air of deadly menace that most ANBU shinobi did. When Ibiki didn’t stop the first few molestations, that, of course, led to more. Then one ANBU nin that nobody expected to cause a problem, the silent and solitary nin that wore the Panther mask and went by same name or the abbreviate form, Pan, had molested Izumo, jumping him and jerking him off in bathroom bar. And Izumo had come complaining to Ibiki. Then, miraculously, when Ibiki sent Panther after Izumo to apologize, they’d ended up falling in love, something that just made all the ANBU nins feel that maybe, just maybe, they could enjoy their jobs AND find love, not wait until they retired or were “retired” to do so.

Shu had been floored by the news that Panther, of all people, seemed to have won the heart of Izumo, in one night, no less, although he’d broken some of Ibiki’s policies in doing it. To be precise, the policy of not revealing your ANBU status to anyone not cleared by Ibiki. Not surprisingly, the head of ANBU had pulled in Panther for some punishment, ordering one of his squad leaders, Miki, to send one or more of his team over to keep an eye on Izumo and his best friend, Kotetsu, the chuunin who had learned of Panther’s ANBU status. Predictably, the opportunity to go gawk at Pan’s new lover, while on duty no less, was something no one on the squad wanted to miss out on. And Shu had been in Miki’s squad that day.

And that was when Shu’s real problem had started.

Because while everyone mostly had eyes for Izumo, a soft-spoken chuunin that hid behind his hair, a shy yet surprisingly slutty and submissive bottom, Shu had taken one look at Hagane Kotetsu, the straight friend of Izumo, and lost his head. The first thing he’d thought was “pretty” and the second thing was “want.” Kotetsu had wickedly sexy slanted eyes, a wild spiky hairdo, and this face bandage that went over the tops of his cheek and the bridge of his nose that just accented those incredible eyes. In addition, he exuded a sexual confidence and had a bit of a sexy bad-boy air—a wannabe bad boy, cause no one who was just a chuunin could be that bad, at least in the eyes of an ANBU nin. What made Kotetsu even more desirable to Shu was that despite the cockiness, bit of badness in him, he had an innocence, a softness to him, a bit of clumsiness that was so cute. And he was so easy to provoke, so damn teaseable, molestable. And to make it even better, he responded to Shu, well, like one of his fantasies.

It was a stupid fantasy in a way, but understandable. ANBU nins get a lot of cold politeness. People don’t want to know them, let alone like them. But Shu in his lonely hours had imagined a man who objected just like the others, pushed him away because of the ANBU uniform, but really inside wanted him, desired him, so much that he couldn’t resist, couldn’t help but let that ANBU warrior take him and make him his lover anyway. And somehow the fantasy had gotten more elaborate the longer he had had it—the man was in love with Shu, crazy about Shu, but too afraid of ANBU to say it. But he wanted to be taken, to be fucked, to be possessed, to be claimed, to be swept away by Shu, his secret love.

Nothing might have happened at all, but for the fact that Miki decided that they were going to throw a party for Pan to celebrate his bagging this adorable little chuunin. The squad, excited by the idea, didn’t want to sit around babysitting some chuunins. And when there was an odd man out, well, it was Shu. Not that he protested. He wanted nothing more than to spend the day looking and listening to the pretty chuunins.

That’s when the problem exploded. Because Kotetsu liked redheads—a lot—and he was, for the first time in his life, finding himself attracted to men. And the idea of a straight guy finding you so instantly desirable, he starts thinking about having gay sex and losing his ass cherry, well, that was like pumping high-grade aphrodisiacs right into Shu’s bloodstream. Listening to the chuunins speculate on the color of his pubic hair, the color of his cock when aroused, what sort of things he said to the men he fucked, how good he’d be at hand jobs, blow jobs—well, fuck, he was hard and so horny, he didn’t fucking care if he broke every damn rule and regulation that ANBU had.

And then his pretty--for by the time in his mind, Kotetsu was HIS pretty—had gone in the bathroom to jerk off. He’d been there behind him, jerking him off, so fast it was a little embarrassing. And his pretty, oh god, his pretty—he’d responded like he was made by God just for Shu. The redhead’s words, his moves, things that others had ignored, smirked at, been unimpressed by, well, had just melted his pretty like magic. And the chuunin had been adorable in his desire, and, god, when he came, he’d come so hard, he’d passed out.

Shu had felt like a sex god, like suddenly everything was falling into place for him, just like for Panther. ANBU had held its party, and dear god, his pretty chuunin had gotten delightfully drunk, spilling out just how amazing he thought Shu was, just how much he tempted him. And that resistance, that struggle not to like Shu, god, that had been like his fantasy come to life, only better in a way. Because he wasn’t really scared of ANBU, something that could lead to violent, bloody accidents, he was scared of being gay, of wanting another man, of liking how another man made him feel. And Shu, buzzed on scrum, had been totally confident that he could make Kotetsu like being gay, hell, love being gay. He’d seduce his pretty, and the guy would fall for him, crave him, adore him. And they’d live happy ever after.

Scum could make a man think such stupid, stupid things.

It could make a man do even stupider things.

He taken his pretty to the chuunin’s home, and he’d intended to just wait, to let the scrum burn out of both their system’s because scrum’s delusions weren’t the best way to start something special. But the pretty one had seduced him--no, no, Shu couldn’t blame him. Kotetsu didn’t know a damn thing about scrum, about why it was illegal, how it’s chakra seeped into you, making your senses work in strange ways, and your inhibitions vanish. A potent scrum could cause an SM orgy in a nunnery.

But for all scrum’s delusions, he’d fallen in love ridiculously, insanely, with Kotetsu, straight, bi-curious Kotetsu. Silly, adorable Kotetsu—who didn’t understand gay men at all, who thought that he was “just a guy” and that his kiss might make Shu sick. Sick! Lovesick was the sad truth. Because when he coaxed that kiss out of Kotetsu, when he’d gotten Kotetsu to just forget about the fact they were both men, he’d kissed like a wanton, like a dream, like Shu’s perfect man. He’d gone wild over Shu’s body, Shu’s kiss, Shu’s touch—passing out cold from an intense orgasm. And then when he’d slid into sleep, he’d looked so cute, so adorable, so fucking perfect. Shu had fallen into bed next to him, expecting to wake up and find his pretty ready for more, even wilder perhaps because he’d neglected his partner, failing to help him to release.

The morning had started even better than he’d expected—with Kotetsu moaning his name in his dreams, rubbing his erection against Shu, aroused and ready to go. But then, then it had gone wrong.

Without the scrum in his system and having come three times yesterday, arousal wasn’t affecting him so much. He was a little hung over and a lot hung up with reservations. But somehow Shu thought it would work, so much so, he was will to be the uke if that would ease Kotetsu over from heterosexual to bisexual. Being uke, however, wasn’t something he had done since age sixteen. It was something serious, something his heart had offered. And then he realized that Kotetsu wasn’t feeling that same magic, that same instant love. He wanted a gay fuck buddy, he wanted women, wanted redhead women. And he wanted cute little boy-like ukes, pretty boys, twinks, girly guys that barely had a hair. Someone like ANBU’s youngest and cutest, Turtle. Yeah, Kotetsu had said he’d wanted to fuck Turtle.

And Turtle’s virginity was something all ANBU prized and protected. Only someone special, someone amazing deserved that—someone like Kakahsi, the man of a thousand jutsus, the true sex god of Konoha. Yeah, Kakashi had the Sharingan that allowed him to perfectly do with his body what his Sharingan eye had seen only once. And the man had seen a lot, seen just about everything, because his porn collection was vast and infamous. He never was without a pornographic novel—or something less known—a pornographic video because he never knew when there might be a handy VCR or DVD player and some time to kill. He was ANBU’s chosen one for Turtle, and he’d made their little darling’s first uke experience something amazing and exceptional. But Shu hadn’t even known that Turtle had lost his anal virginity when Kotetsu had made that comment.

And even if he had, well, maybe the same thing would have happened. Every ANBU nin had a state they got into to do their job—the darkest, foulest parts of their jobs where they tortured or killed those that were helpless. And once you’d been to that place in yourself, discovered just what you could do, it wasn’t something easily put aside. That cold, empty, blank state of mind, that total alertness and readiness to act in a heartbeat, well, that was what kept you alive. It was your best defensive, and the state of being that made sure you survived. You had to get to that state in an instant, the instant that could be the difference between life and death, or even worse than death, slow torture that led to the betrayal of all you loved. ANBU ninja didn’t make good ukes because any pain, threat, or fear could trigger that state, a state where it was better to kill than be killed, better to inflict pain that risk hurt.

He had been so sure that Kotetsu wouldn’t trigger that state, even as a seme because, well, Kotetsu fucked a lot. He called himself a whore, and though he’d never hooked, he’d shot off his seed into a condom inside a vagina or ass probably several hundred times a year, for the last few years. Surely with that much practice, he could fuck a man with finesse. Fuck, that was the key word. Sure, he could fuck Shu. He just couldn’t make love to him, couldn’t even kiss him without making a disgusted face.

It hurt so bad that he’d been stunned. He hadn’t thought he was capable of being emotionally hurt that way anymore—ANBU had a way of stunting your ability to feel. And like a fool, he just pushed for more pain, trying to understand how a man could have called his name out in a dream that clearly had him aroused, then woken up and not wanted to kiss him. Oh, he’d asked for it, even said please—and been told a dream that even a child could interpret although Kotetsu clearly hadn’t until Shu made him see it by repeating it. The pretty chuunin wanted ANBU to go away, the ANBU nin in the raccoon mask to go away. He wanted a woman, had always wanted a woman with long red hair, just like Shu’s. And Shu was a convenient stand-in, a fucktoy that was annoyingly close to, but not, what Kotetsu wanted.

It was silly and irrational to feel such hurt, and even as he froze up, he knew it wasn’t Kotetsu’s problem, it was his. There was nothing to forgive his pretty, nothing at all. And Shu knew he really must care for this man, this Hagane Kotetsu, because even hurting, all he wanted was for Kotetsu to find happiness. And if mindless fucking was his happiness, well, at least it wasn’t killing people (like Gaara before becoming Kazekage), even worse, killing your whole family (like Itachi) or doing sick experiments on little children (like Orochimaru).

He’d found himself at Ibiki’s door, found himself talking his problems out with the man that most of Konoha feared, but who was more like a father, or a father-confessor, to most of the ANBU shinobi. Ok, well, your dad didn’t go out and find men who let them fuck you in the dark, signaling you with a little red cat bowl. That cat bowl was Ibiki’s joke—his boys were little stray cats needing food, tomcats that needed a fuck from a female in heat who’d offer up her ass to anyone. But women were off limits—no unwanted child was going to be conceived on Ibiki’s watch—so it was little uke asses raised in the air inside those apartments with his red cat bowls outside.

Ibiki was always the perfect listener, and, oh, the man could seduce you with his voice, trick you into to telling him his secrets with his honeyed tones. Most of Konoha only feared his sting and had never seen the sweetness he could pour on when he chose to. And that Ibiki, the seductive, sweet-toned Ibiki, that was the Ibiki that really should be feared. And that Ibiki came out to play.

That was when Shu’s problem reached the catastrophic stage, beyond mere SNAFU.

Total clusterfuck.

Because Ibiki was horny, horny for the first time in over a decade, and he’d drunk so much scrum it was doubtful that even he could judge if it was out of his system.

And somehow, Shu had found himself convinced that letting the man he loved get used to being gay by fucking Turtle or any other guy was a good thing. Nobody’s first time was any good anyway, and without some experience, how did you know how to value you what you had? And the pretty chuunin hated being less experienced, hated not knowing how to give good head or a hand job—well, ANBU would take care of that. No, no need to worry the chuunin would go back to women. Ibiki could make sure he’d never get a piece of pussy again.

Ibiki, oh Ibiki, he could make you believe anything, do anything.

And the proof was that Shu, who had been called a genius and scored brilliantly on all sorts of intelligence tests, not only agreed to let his friends try to fool around and fuck the man he loved, but ended up on his knees, his ass in the air, getting ten years worth of sexual desire slammed into him for four hours straight. And then after falling into a dead sleep, Shu had awoken to find a medic nin had come and gone, healing every bruise and bite and abrasion, so that he felt completely fit. A state that Ibiki had then proceeded to reverse, fucking Shu for another solid two hours, teaching him things that made him feel shockingly ignorant. Making him feel things that felt stunningly good. Fucking his face, his body, his mind, and his life.

Shu had a problem. He loved a man that was running around sucking just about every ANBU cock and spraying his cum into ANBU throats on ANBU faces. And he was having some of the best fucking sex of his life—as an uke. It was sex, not love, just sex. He didn’t have a lover, didn’t have a fuck buddy. Ibiki didn’t love him or make love to him. He was not Ibiki’s fuck buddy because he wasn’t Ibiki’s buddy. He was his fuckhole, his bitch.

He didn’t want to keep doing it, didn’t want to just be his boss’s fucktoy. But god help him, he couldn’t say no. And it was killing him, killing the part of him that could even think about love, think about sex being special, being more than just body on body. Even if he could win Kotetsu, win his love, he didn’t know if he could do it. Was he capable of making love anymore? Was he worthy of being loved? He had let Ibiki do things to him that he couldn’t even think about without shuddering—and worse, oh so much, worse—he’d begged for them. He begged for the whip, for the piss, for—no, no, no, he couldn’t even think about it, wouldn’t think about it. In his room, Shu rocked his perfectly healthy body in pain and whimpered, fighting his desire to pull out his hard cock and masturbate thinking about just what all he’d begged for.

ANBU’s finest medical nins had him in better physical shape than ever. But ANBU’s finest torture expert had taken the bits of his broken heart and pulverized them. Yeah, he’d cum more than any human should be able to, but he never felt so unfulfilled, so lonely, so trapped.

And for all his intelligence, he couldn’t see a way to solve his problem.