Torture Comes in Many Forms

Chapter 11: Fucking Ibiki

Ibiki slid under the sheets on what had become in this last week of sharing the small room and bath, his “side” of the bed. In the dark, Ibiki felt his good intentions and feelings start to peel away. Ever since that first night Sai had moved into his old apartment, he’d been getting erections and masturbating at night. It hadn’t been a problem when he been in his own bedroom, and Sai in that closet and then his own room. But since they’d started torturing Kabuto, they’d been sharing this little room. The torture had been enough to keep Ibiki unexcited, but now, with Kabuto’s body healed, Ibiki felt at ease about his job. And what had happened since Kabuto had healed--Ibiki lay there with his memories of this night, feeling his cock hardening yet again.

His sex life for the last five years had been with himself—and he was demanding with himself. When Ibiki felt needy and lonely, he would masturbate to make himself forget, to make sure he could go into work with complete calm, complete assurance, complete satisfaction with his life. He couldn’t let himself be vulnerable when he was on the job. So he would work himself again and again until he hurt and could cum no more, until he was bored and tired with sex, and he couldn’t get hard again. It wasn’t uncommon for Ibiki to make himself cum three or four times a night—and since Sai had moved in, he was setting records.

So even though he’d cum twice, Ibiki lay there on the bed his cock hard, his mind full of memories of Sai and himself. He’d been masturbating to fantasies of Sai, but now the memory of how Sai had looked, had sounded, had tasted—now they were sending his fantasy life into overdrive. Ibiki reached down and began to stroke himself. The thought of Sai waking and watching him made his body jerk. Ibiki could have tried to be still and not wake Sai, but the part of him that was hurting—his heart—wanted Sai to wake up, to look at him.

When the light suddenly switched on, Ibiki was impressed. Despite his arousal and stroking fist, he had been listening, feeling for movements on the bed, trying to sense if Sai was awake. But Sai had a bingo book of expert assassinations—his stealth was no surprise. He stood up naked and walked over the stool by the kitchen counter and sat facing the bed. He pulled out his sketch book and, watching Ibiki, began to draw. Ibiki stopped stroking himself and threw the sheet and blanket off his body, exposing himself to Sai. He angled himself on the bed so Sai could have the best view, moving the pillows so that he was sitting up a bit. This way, not only could his eyes meet Sai’s, but it was easier for Sai to see his lips, his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. He pulled the lube out from under his pillow and squirted some on his hands. Sai’s dark eyes were intent, serious, focused as if his life depended on observing every detail of Ibiki’s behavior.

Ibiki spread his legs wide and raised up his knees. He licked his lips and let his hands move on himself now not like a man just intent on a quick release, but like a satiated lover seeking to memorize a beloved’s flesh. His hands were slow, sensuous—and they caressed his erection, his balls, but slide down further to one starburst spot that was natural, not a scar, to his anus. Ibiki watched Sai’s eyes as he slide a finger deep into himself—and smiled at the signs that showed Sai’s reaction. It wasn’t much, but then Ibiki could read into one blink or flutter of an eyelash more than most men. Of course Sai’s erection was a message even a blind man could read. Ibiki added another finger. His other hand pinched at his nipples, played with his cock, slide along his inner thigh. He pulled his fingers out to add more lube and then worked in three fingers.

Sai wasn’t even bothering to try to sketch any more, but he still sat there on the stool pen and pad in hand, unsmiling, silent. Ibiki pulled his hand out of himself. He rested his hands on his knees, and raised his eyebrows at Sai, offering himself. When Sai did nothing, Ibiki picked up the tube of lube and tossed it to Sai. His hand caught it, gracefully, naturally, but his face didn’t change, and he sat there for a bit longer.

When Ibiki sighed and shut his eyes, bringing his hands back to his cock, he heard Sai move. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it didn’t have to be. Ibiki kept his eyes closed as he heard the sound of lotion on skin. But he didn’t expect to hear the words Sai said.

“Open your eyes, Ibiki. Look at how hard you have me. Look at how fucking sexy I think you are. I’ve never slid my penis into a vagina or into an ass before. You 're going to be the first one I’m going to fuck. And I’m going to fuck you again and again until I know how to do it right. You're stuck with me—we share a job, we share an apartment, we share this bed, we share this—“

And he slid that long penis of his into Ibiki and pushed it right into Ibiki’s prostrate—unfuckingbelievable—no one should be able to find that spot just so on the first stroke. No one should look so cool, so collected, so I’ve-done-this-a-million-fucking-times the first time they fuck. The sharp gasp of pleasure and the involuntary toss of Ibiki’s head—no, this wasn’t how Ibiki had sex.

Sai jerked Ibiki’s legs up and over his shoulders, snapping out, “Say something, you jerk! Are you fucking awake?”

“I love you!”

“Don’t mock me, dickhead! For god’s sake, tell me if it feels ok, say something—I’m not a goddamn torture subject.”

“It feels so fucking good it’s breaking my heart, asshole! I love you, and I’m fucking ugly, and you think it’s a goddamn joke! If you touch my cock, I’m going to—AAAAHHHH!” Ibiki just let himself shout out as he came—ridiculous, that one touch would do it, but hell, he hadn’t had a cock in him, hadn’t had a cock in him he’d wanted in him—no, no reason to even think about it—oh God, Sai wasn’t done. He opened his eyes to meet Sai’s—oh, god, he’d just handed Sai everything.

Sai slowed his rhythm, thrusting in deep with each word, his eyes locked with Ibiki’s: “You . . . Are . . . Fucking . . . Sexy . . . And . . . I . . . Am . . . Going . . . To . . . Keep . . . You—“

“Sai!” Ibiki reached for Sai’s lips, pressing his knees back to his shoulders, pulling Sai down on to him, needing to kiss him, feeling tears in his eyes, feeling ridiculous, happy, embarrassed—and claimed. Sai pushed down on him, forcing his legs to stretch, burying his cock into Ibiki and pushing his tongue into Ibiki’s mouth. When Sai broke the kiss, he drove into Ibiki hard and fast for barely a minute before he cried out and filled his lover’s eager body.

Ibiki’s legs fell from Sai’s shoulders, and Sai’s sweaty body fell forward on Ibiki, the sweat and cum sticky between them. Ibiki’s arms came up around Sai, holding him there. When Sai tried to move, they tightened and held him down.

“Idiot! I know I don’t weigh as much as you, but I’m not exactly a lightweight.”

“Your idiot,” was all Ibiki said as he raised the two of them up, holding Sai with one arm. Ibiki grabbed the edge of the blanket with one hand and jerked it up. He let them fall back on the bed, Sai still inside of Ibiki although growing small enough that he was close to slipping out. Ibiki adjusted the blanket over them and pushed Sai’s head down on to his shoulder.

Sai grabbed the lube and tossed it at the lamp, shattering the bulb and sending the room into darkness—an impressive toss from his angle and with an object not optimal for shattering glass.

“I like your style, Sai,” said Ibiki.

“I like you best, Ibiki,” said Sai.

Ibiki didn’t say anything, but his cock began to harden against Sai’s stomach, and he could feel himself grinning.

They lay there in the dark, Ibiki’s hands running over Sai’s back, stroking his hair while Ibiki’s cock twitched between them.