D/s Naruto

Additional Warning: Minor moment involving shitting out sperm (no shit)

Chapter 11 (Friday 15 June 2007, evening)

“Having Uchiha Sasuke as my slave, priceless,” came over the speaker into the control room, and Itachi started shaking in Kisame’s arms. They were both naked now: Kisame in the black chair with Itachi snuggled on his lap, his legs over one of the chair’s arms, his head against Kisame’s right shoulder.

“It’s ok, Itachi, don’t panic. We have plenty of time to prepare for the collaring ceremony for little Sasuke,” said Kisame.

“Don’t joke, Kisame, don’t,” said Itachi fiercely pushing his head into Kisame, not seeing the frown and worried look on the big black man’s face even as he lightly stroked Itachi’s hair.

Over the speaker, Naruto’s voice came loudly, “Jesus God, Sasuke, you can die from a collapsed lung. We should get you to the hospital.”

“Kisame, dammit! Tell me if—“ Kisame’s hand wrapped around Itachi’s mouth, forcing him to be quiet and listen to Sasuke’s voice over the speaker.

“. . .for years now, and Itachi’s had a million doctors check it. Besides if Kakashi liked my back, I’m sure you’d be arrested if we showed up at the emergency room. I think I just need to eat.”

“See, he’s fine. He’s just panicking, just like you. What is it with you Uchihas and love? Having the shit beat out of you, death threats—no sweat. Some affection and kisses, and you’re passing out and having chest pains and shakes.” And as if on cue, Itachi’s body shook again, and he pushed his head back into Kisame’s chest.

Kisame rolled his eyes above Itachi’s head, but he just swivelled the chair so Itachi could look at the video monitor showing Sasuke and Naruto without moving his head from Kisame’s chest. “I’m not joking about that collaring ceremony, Itachi, look at your brother flirt.”

“ . . .retraining, Master,” said Sasuke, in a provocative, sexy voice. He then started eating his steak covered in a rich red-brown sauce with his bare hands in a way that was incredibly erotic. Most people don’t lick and suck the sauce off their steaks before biting in.

“You said `Itachi,’” said Naruto defensively, making Kisame laugh and reach out and switch off the sound feed. He slid the chair closer to the counter with all the switches and reached around his love to fiddle with the controls. When he was done, only three of the monitors showed what was going on in the unnumbered room, one for each camera feed.

“What are you doing, Kisame? I want to make sure Sasuke’s ok,” said Itachi, but he didn’t move from his lover’s lap or try to touch the controls himself.

“Well, baby, that dom/sub session’s over, and it will be nothing but lovemaking now. Let your brother have a little privacy for his vanilla sex. Why don’t I have Chouji bring us down some of that sauce-covered steak. I’m pretty sure you’d be hotter than Sasuke eating like that, but you know I really should see you do it to be sure.”

Kisame watched as Itachi stiffened in his arms and went from the Itachi that was his lover to Itachi, “The Dom.” It always fascinated him to see what he privately called “The Change.”

“I ate already,” said Itachi gracefully getting up off Kisame, tossing his head and making his hair fly in a way that was so like Sasuke, Kisame grinned. When Itachi had trouble with quickly making “The Change,” it meant Kisame had rocked his lover’s world.

“Well, baby, watch the room for me for a while—I’m going to go wash up in the shower off the laundry room,” Kisame said as he too stood. He scooped up his sweats and beanie and slid on his sandals. “You could come, of course,” he said in that Barry White voice of his, promising that a shower with him would be very, very satisfying. When Itachi hesitated, he coaxed, “Sasori, Iruka, and Kakashi now know the big secret that sometimes we fuck, and the world hasn’t ended. You could call Deidara; don’t you think Sasori will tell him at least?” He watched his lover struggle with temptation, standing there naked, playing with the big tooth on his platinum chain, trying not to show how disappointed he was that Itachi was still going to keep what they had a secret.

“Sasori and Deidara are dom and sub; doms don’t share things like that with subs, Kisame,” said Itachi in a cold voice.

Kisame felt the little bit of hope that had formed in him when Itachi had let himself be fucked when Iruka and Kakashi were listening die. Itachi was still scared and in denial. He watched as Itachi straddled the trashcan and shat out as much of Kisame’s cum from his ass as he could. His cock stiffened at the sight. Itachi looked up, and Kisame stroked himself slowly, showing his lover how much he liked what he saw. “That’s fucking hot, baby. If I knew that’s what you looked like in the bathroom all those times after we’ve gone bare, I’d never have let you go in there alone.”

Itachi snorted, “You’re not my dom; you want to be my lover, you give me privacy.”

“Do you want me to be your dom, Itachi?” asked Kisame, still playing with himself.

“You? You don’t like the scene, who are you kidding?” said Itachi, sounding angry now.

Kisame felt some of his iron control start to crack. His hand went to his hips, gripping hard and belying the casual pose, as he said in a voice that managed to be both silky and cold somehow, “Really, you think I would become half partner in a D/s club if I didn’t like the scene? You think I’d spend hours and hours down here watching and listening, jacking off a couple of times a shift, if I didn’t like the scene?”

Itachi was hiding his face in his hair, not answering, but his cock was no longer the tiny, limp thing it had been just minutes before.

Kisame smiled, his body losing its tension, and turned away to scan the monitors. What he’d said was enough. It was an idea planted. And with Sasuke talking about slave collars with Naruto, Itachi was going to have to confront at least one of the hidden desires in his heart. Maybe losing Sasuke will be the thing that takes us to another level, Kisame thought—or, takes him away from me. But half ownership of this club means he can’t run very far. And I am a very, very patient man. When the prey is worth it, a hunter will spend his whole life chasing it. He wondered idly what Itachi would think of his secret nickname for him—Moby Dick.

Hmm—secrets, there were too many secrets. Maybe it was time to let go of some of them. He’d definitely try that nickname out in the bedroom the next time they ended up there—which wasn’t likely to be anytime soon. Oh, well, Sasuke’s birthday was next month—that always meant a good five, six hour fuck session with Itachi at his wildest. When Sasuke turned sixteen, they hadn’t left the bedroom for three days—but that had been early on it their relationship when what they did was still a new, forbidden fruit for Itachi. Staying out the scene to keep himself in that forbidden category wasn’t too much of a sacrifice to keep Itachi as his lover for eight years—the longest he’d been exclusive with a single sub was three weeks. His lover still had no idea that Kisame had been the one who had put that sub in the hospital, ending his obsession with him.

“Well, Partner,” said Kisame, “I’m going to turn the room over to you and take that shower. I need about ten minutes.” Kisame did a quick check of all the monitors and control panels like he always did before leaving, intending to exit as he always did when turning over the controls, saying, “It’s all good, all green.” But there was something wrong in the kitchen—why was Sasuke in the kitchen? He turned his head to the monitor showing the nameless room and then looked back at the kitchen. Fuck! This was either going to be very good or very bad.

“What? Is there a problem?” demanded Itachi.

Kisame said slowly, “Yea, there’s a problem. You’re new waiter finally showed up, and he looks remarkably like Sasuke. Hmmm, I wonder if he’ll distract Naruto from Sasuke,” said Kisame, knowing perfectly well that the one he would distract was Itachi.

Oh well, turning the little waiter into his sub and fucking him silly would probably be a good thing for Itachi. It would help him get over the shock of Sasuke’s falling for Naruto—a fucking miracle in Kisame’s opinion. As for Itachi and the new waiter, it was going to happen anyway, so why fight it? Chouji was just about the only uncollared member of the staff whom Itachi had not spanked, toyed with, and eventually fucked. (Gaara was another; he even scared Itachi sometimes, not that he'd ever admit it). Kisame didn't care if Itachi fucked Gaara till he screamed, but Chouji's cooking was just too good to risk. Kisame had put his foot down on that issue; Itachi couldn't play with the chubby chef. But as for just about everyone else employeed here, it didn’t matter if you weren’t into the scene or were a dom or a sub: if you didn’t have a collar on you or weren't in that special hands-off category, you would either sub for Itachi or quit before six months passed. And Sasuke was the only one of Itachi’s subs that had never taken Itachi’s cock in either his mouth or ass.

“I don’t think Sasuke’s going to be up for training him for the next few days, Tachi. Who are you going to assign our little Sasuke clone to? “ When Itachi didn’t say anything, but just continued dressing himself, Kisame added, “Gemna will be back from vacation tomorrow, and he’ll be happy to train such a little hottie. I can call Sasori and have cloneboy sent home,” Kisame offered.

“His name is Sai,” said Itachi. “No, don’t call, just go take your shower, and then I’ll go up there and deal with him. I don’t think someone who shows up three hours late for training should be sent home. It sets a bad precedent.”

“I think he needs some serious discipline on a daily basis and is overdue for some punishment,” said Kisame. “You should give him hell, Tachi. Hey, it’s all good, all green. I’m out of here.” But before he left, he jerked Itachi close for one last kiss, making sure their erections brushed together. As he walked the short distance to the laundry room with its little shower, he smirked. Itachi had been getting into that kiss and had been annoyed at Kisame keeping it short. `Poor Sai,’ thought Kisame, `he’s going to suffer so much. But if I can’t fuck Itachi at least I’ll have fun watching him screw. But he better not try to get an exclusive contract out of Itachi because then I’ll rip him apart.”

Deidara looked up from pulling some towels from one of the driers when Kisame cut through the laundry to the shower. He ducked down quickly, not wanting to be noticed. Kisame had on his “Jaws” look—anything that got in his way when he looked like that was going to be eaten alive.