Torture Comes in Many Forms

Chapter 10: The One Awake

It hurt, god, it hurt the way physical hurt never bothered him. Long ago, Ibiki had managed to separate his self-esteem from what happened when he was helpless and being physically hurt. To be beaten, to be pissed on, smeared with shit, to be raped, to be made to cry and scream—that didn’t make Ibiki inferior in his mind. There were things he just had to endure, and how he endured them proved his worth, his value, his manliness. Ibiki endured, and he accepted that physically he couldn’t resist some things. Some things made him have to cry, to cum, to scream, to weep, to beg even if he didn’t want to. This didn’t matter to the core of himself, to what made Ibiki, Ibiki.

But Sai wasn’t something he had to endure. He didn’t have to say the things he’d said to Sai. He did have to let himself admit that he cared, hell what was that word caring but a shameful way to deny the feelings inside him? You cared about whether dinner was on time, if a friend was happy. What Ibiki felt for Sai wasn’t caring—it was love. Not the singing-in-the-heart, flowers-and-kisses kind of love, but the I-want-to-die-if-I-can’t-have-you sort of love, the love that made people stalk, rape, kill, or suicide. If he was going to look at why he was in pain, there was no point in telling himself lies.

If he had to write a report on himself, it would go something like this: Male, 30 years of age, bisexual, physically scarred and unattractive, highly intelligent, capable of extreme violence, moderately to highly dangerous, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, and emotional and sexual repression. Subject has no close family or friends, no normal social life. Currently obsessed with work partner and roommate, called “Sai.”

Sai—god, how could he sum up Sai? Sure, an I.A.T. report might read something like the following. Sai: estimated 20 year old male, sexual preference unknown although known to have engaged in at least one homosexual affair. Subject is highly attractive, intelligent, capable of violence, extremely dangerous. Subject shows minimal affect and emotions, potential sociopath. Subject has no family although shows recent interest in establishing social bonds with teammates of ANBU assignment as “Sai.” Hell—wait, that wasn’t right any more—“minimal affect and emotion”? In just the last two hours, Sai had shown emotions that were completely incompatible with every known report on him. “Sai” the ANBU operative didn’t cry, didn’t scream, didn’t moan, didn’t beg.

Oh, god, but Ibiki would never forget seeing Sai do all those things. He didn’t look twenty, he looked like a much younger boy of sixteen or so—a very pretty, effeminate boy with soft white skin, a delicate facial structure, big dark eyes, long eyelash, and those lips—those pretty, pink, soft lips. And when he cried, those dark eyes glittered and those pretty cheeks flushed. And when he was aroused—his lips swollen, his nipples red and puffy, his sex erect and pulsing with blood—it made Ibiki want to reduce him to a sobbing, helpless, quivering mass of flesh beneath him. That vulnerability somehow made Ibiki feel savage—wanting to hear Sai beg, moan, cry—no, no--that wasn’t what Ibiki really wanted. Those sounds weren’t enough, though they gave Ibiki hope. Making Sai beg, moan, or cry was just a substitute, a way to pretend that Sai really wanted him, needed him, craved him, desired him, loved him--loved Ibiki.

`I’m a fool,’ Ibiki told himself. Sai had wanted to experience sex, wanted to be fucked, wanted to cum. He didn’t care about Ibiki—Genma, Kiba, anyone would do. Ibiki had been convenient, but too much. Ibiki had felt disappointed at how fast he had come that first time and had wanted to show Sai that sex could last longer, feel better. But Sai hadn’t wanted him again—and Ibiki had used his body against him. And god help him, he wanted to do that again and again.

Even if Sai didn’t want him, didn’t desire him, Ibiki knew where to touch him, how to arouse him. His right nipple was more sensitive than the left. Licking his clavical, blowing on his right ear, pinching the base of his cock—all these made Sai’s heart beat faster, his cock and nipples harden more, his breathing quicken. Ibiki could use Sai’s sensuality against him, bring his body to betray him, to make him beg for a fucking he didn’t want.

The hurt, this hurt he felt when Sai had fallen asleep without one word, one look--Ibiki knew he had to deal with it, get over it—because Ibiki knew that he was the head of I.A.T. for a reason. There was a part of him that loved it—that loved seeing a body bound and shackled before him, that loved to see muscles stretched out, taunt. There was a dark part of him that loved to hear the sound of begging, of tears, of pleading. Something in him felt eased, took pleasure at these things. These things that he should be ashamed of doing made his inner hurts go away. He felt a peace, a euphoria when he had complete domination over someone who had cursed and spit at him and tried to kill him. He didn’t feel alone or sad when they who had sneered, struggled, and fought broke under him.

The broken were willing to do anything to please him, whispering words of submission, offering him all they had—their bodies, their obedience, their secrets, their dreams, their will. What made Ibiki able to live with this knowledge of his shameful pleasure in things that should not be enjoyable was that he did not act on these dark desires. He would not do to others what had been done to him, what had made him have this unnatural sense of pleasure.

As a Konoha shinobi, Ibiki took from those he interrogated and tortured only what Konoha demanded he take—knowledge. Once the knowledge was gained, the broken being was gone from his control—often as much as possible was done to counter the effects of his “work.” Thankful, Ibiki had nothing to do with punishment, execution, or even just discipline—those weren’t his areas, and he avoided any involvement in them that might encourage this part of himself he kept hidden and controlled.

But tonight, Ibiki’s control was weak. Sai lay there, his naked body on a damp sheet, his cum drying beneath him, Ibiki’s cum dribbling out of his anus. A decent human being would pick Sai up, wash him off, change the sheets. A caring human being would do that and rub down his muscles that would be sore otherwise and apply salve to the marks made by Ibiki's lips and teeth. Those marks were already blackening on Sai’s neck, back, and ass. A good friend would comb out the knots in his hair, dress him in something warm, and position him in bed so he would sleep most comfortably. A lover would do all that, adding a gentle goodnight kiss and whispering words of love. And Ibiki just lay there looking at Sai, doing nothing.

It wasn’t that he wanted to pull apart those asscheeks and push his cock inside that tight hole of Sai’s again—no to do that when Sai wasn’t awake would be sick, disgusting, uninteresting. But he could tie those wrists and ankles, awaken Sai, and touch him until he asked for Ibiki to press into that wonderful tight warmth one more time. Or he could just stroke himself, looking at that beautiful body—the body he might never see naked again in real life. Would it be so wrong to spray his seed on that slender backbone, those shapely buttocks that curved into those muscled thighs?

Fuck, yes, it would be. Shit. Ibiki sighed and got up. He made himself a hot cup of tea and watched Sai sleep. When he finished the tea, he went and picked up Sai and began to do the things that any decent human being would do. When he finally lay a cleaned and dry Sai on fresh white sheets, Ibiki decided he might as well do as much as any caring person would do. He applied a little disinfectant cream on each place where he’d broken Sai’s skin. Then he rubbed Sai’s thighs, loosening muscles tight from being stretched in ways they normally weren’t. By this point Ibiki had given in to his better impulses, carefully combing Sai’s blue-black hair, placing his head on a soft pillow, covering him with a warm blanket. He couldn't bring himself to put clothes on Sai, however. He wanted a chance in the morning to see this body he had been craving for weeks now, lying erect in the dark listening for the sound of Sai nearby. He wasn't that good of a person to cover that chest, that stomach, those legs, that groin with clothes although he covered and hid it all from his eyes with the clean white sheet and soft blue blanket.

Just before Ibiki turned off the light, he gently kissed those soft pink lips and whispered, “I love you.”