Izumo's Problem

XII.

“I miss you, Izumo. I can’t believe you moved into Kurohyou’s apartment. Your boyfriend could have moved his stuff to your place in two trips,” said Kotetsu.

“Stop whining, Tetsu. You already know why we moved into his place,” said Izumo. “And why the hell do you miss me? We work together all the time, we still go out every weekend, and we actually eat more meals together than when I lived in the same building.”

Kotetsu sighed. In the three months since Izumo became Kurohyou’s man, he’d come to realize that part of their friendship had been that simmering sexual desire of Izumo’s for him that he’d never recognized until it was gone. Izumo had always looked at him with such intensity—and had always been looking. And now, that energy, that complete attention went to Kurohyou. Even when Kurohyou was away on a mission, Izumo’s attention was still different. It wasn’t that Izumo didn’t still look at him, and their conversations and activities hadn’t changed, but that little charge, that ego boost, he’d always gotten from Izumo wasn’t there. Somehow, Kotetsu realized, Izumo’s suppressed desire had communicated itself to him—he’d always felt sexy, felt desirable, felt confident. He’d seen himself through Izumo’s eyes.

And now his friend’s eyes looked on him with pity. And he did feel pitiful and ashamed of himself. Izumo was happier than he’d ever been, and he was a selfish ass to want more attention from him. “Sorry, Zumo, I’m just lonely. It’s not you, buddy; it’s the fact I can get any pussy anymore.”

Izumo giggled. “If you didn’t get so worked up and play into their hands, they wouldn’t be cock-blocking you all the time. And really Tetsu, you get so much more passionate about the ANBU nins blocking your cock than any of the women you supposedly want to sleep with, it’s ridiculous. And if you want them to stop harassing you, you need to stop rewarding their efforts by letting them blow you or even worse, blowing them.”

“Why should I? I’m just a ho, right? That’s what they all think; that’s how they treat me!”

Izumo just gave Kotetsu one of those looks that made him feel ashamed. He dropped his head, looking at his lap, miserable.

“Hey, get up,” said Izumo, “I’ll walk you home. Get some sleep. Think about asking Shu out. The longer you wait, and the more ANBU nins you fool around with, the less chance you have.”

Kotetsu shook his head at Izumo, “Go home, Izumo, and dream of your Black Panther. I appreciate your advice, but I have to work out my problems my own way.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” asked Izumo.

“Yeah, now go home. Maybe you’ll be lucky and a certain nin will get his mission done early.”

Izumo’s face lit up, and Kotetsu had to smile. It used to be that he would leave Izumo behind in the bar, heading out, wondering if his friend’s romantic problems would ever be solved. Well, now it was his turn to be left behind. This was an improvement, a big improvement—for Izumo, sweet Izumo, deserved all the romance and happiness he could get. When he been feeding off Izumo’s desires and leaving him hanging, well, it hadn’t been good for either of them. Part of the fun of hooking up had been the looks Izumo had thrown him, the knowledge Izumo knew, and his own awareness that Izumo was watching, waiting, and, though he’d not really realized it then, wanting. Well, they were both over that. Now, if he wanted to really pursue someone, he could without feeling guilty about Izumo.

It just was he didn’t want to—yet. He wasn’t brave enough or desperate enough. But if his problems, continued, he just might be. Kotetsu looked around the bar again, considering all the single people, male and female there. Not one made his heartbeat speed up. Not one had red hair, which might be enough to motivate him even if his heart wasn’t into it. He sighed and got up to head home. More and more, he just asked himself when thinking about making the moves on someone, “Do I want them more than Shu?” And when the answer was no, he went home. And for the last week or so, the answer always seemed to be no.

But it couldn’t last, no way. There had to be some people out there that would make a yes leap up inside him, someone he could start fresh with, do it right with from the beginning. Someone that wouldn’t hold a bit of hurt and resentment inside, someone whom he could be a true partner to, not a toy or a bit of unmolded clay to be shaped. Yeah, someone like that. Not Shu. He wouldn’t crawl on his knees and beg Shu for anything. “You already did that,” said a voice in his mind. Ok, so he wouldn’t crawl on his knees and beg Shu anymore. Yeah, he wouldn’t do that anymore. “But good boys that beg, get rewards from Shu,” said that damn voice.

Shit! Shit! Shit! And as he walked home in the dark, Kotetsu struggled to remember just why he wasn’t going to go grovel at the feet of a certain redhead.


Izumo let himself into Kurohyou’s—no, our apartment, he told himself, feeling a little burst of happiness. He was living with the man he loved. And yes, yes, it was awful when he was away on missions, but he would be back, he was too good at what he did not to come back. He would come back, and Izumo would give him what he needed, what he wanted, everything. For he was Izumo’s master, his owner, his love.

He’d never expected to become a secret slave, but it wasn’t really slavery, it was love. What Kurohyou had undergone from eleven to thirteen, that was slavery. And the saddest twist of all was that something in Kurohyou responded to that world, and if only his masters had been loving, he might still be a slave—the true kind, the slave of the heart, the kind that can run away and won’t. But luckily for Izumo and Konoha, they had shown the treasure they’d captured no kindness or affection, and he’d come home to where his worth was known.

But he wanted, he needed his love to be his, all his, only his, his completely. And there was a part of Izumo that had always wanted to be claimed and taken and forced to reveal all those secret dreams and desires he’d suppressed for so long. So it was with pleasure that Izumo stood by the door of their apartment and removed, not just his shoes, but all of his clothing—even his precious neck covering. The hallway closet that most people put things like coats, boots, brooms, spears (ninjas only of course), etc., was his closet with most of his clothing. And the drawers in the small chest beneath the hallway mirror held the rest of it. He dressed and undressed in the hallway, unless of course they had visitors. But if he was alone or only with Kurohyou, Izumo was naked save for the pretty things that Kurohyou had given him.

His metal collar was thin, so he could wear it under his neck covering all the time, and no one need know. It was black titanium, sleek, polished, elegant, just like his Kurohyou. Izumo loved it, especially the engraving between the outlines of two panthers that read Kurohyou’s Iriomote. The rings in his nipples were black titanium, too. The cuffs for his ankles and wrists, and the thin, light, loose chains that hung between them were black steel, the cuffs engraved with panthers and iriomotes. His cock ring was soft leather since Izumo preferred the feel of the leather to metal, and Kurohyou had wanted him as comfortable as he could be with his sperm held back in his balls, unable to come.

And then, then the part that was so embarrassing yet so wonderful. Izumo opened the locked box on the hall table and got out the lube. He warmed it in his hands and then began to finger himself, working his ass open. When Kurohyou was home, he almost never got further than sliding one finger inside himself, before he took over; but now, alone, he stretched himself slowly, hoping that his lover would be there to take advantage of his prepared ass before it was time to leave for work tomorrow. When he was stretched enough, Izumo contemplated his choice of toys before selecting a small black plug to insert in his ass. With a smaller plug, the shock of that first thrust from Kurohyou, that little burst of pain, was more intense, more wonderful. And the littler plug made him tighter for his lover.

Izumo walked to the bathroom to wash his hands, his cock so hard from his stretching and insertion of that butt plug. The soft clink of the chains, the feel of his nipple rings, his nudity, the plug inside him shifting as he walked—oh, god, he could come right now! Alas! He wasn’t permitted to come yet. It was only 11:45. When Kurohyou was away on a mission, he was allowed to masturbate once a day, at 1 a.m. exactly. The ANBU nin promised if he could, to be thinking of Izumo, his Iriomote, touching himself, stroking himself to orgasm just as Izumo was. “And if I can’t touch myself,” he’d whispered, “know that if I’m conscious, I’m thinking of you, my heart, at that moment.”

Ah, god, I can’t think of those words, now! Oh, god, each word he says is so precious, and oh, sweet heaven, when, he says something long like that and calls me his heart, I could just die! Izumo took several deep breaths and started the shower, leaving the water fairly cool. He was used to showering, washing his hair, going to the bathroom with his cuffs and chains on, in fact doing just about everything around the house with them—cooking, cleaning, reading, sleeping. As he stood at the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth, he noticed his neck looked odd. After rinsing his mouth, he stood there for the longest time examined his neck. It looked strange without any hickeys, for the ones Kurohyou had made before leaving had faded. This was only the second long mission he’d been away on since they’d gotten together, and Izumo wondered how he’d handle it if Kurohyou had to be away again and again.

But he didn’t want his panther to leave ANBU unless he wanted to, but even if he ever came to want to leave it, surely he would be a jounin, with missions that could be equally long and dangerous. No, he would be fine when his Kurohyou was away because he knew his black panther needed the thrill of missions, the hunting, the blood, and even the kills, in some fundamental way. From that first night together, when he felt like he had been in his lover’s mind in that strange magical moment, he’d understood.

And the wild, the night, the cold, the blood, and the death—all made the homecomings, the reunions, better. His lover would appear behind him—and then for a second, Izumo thought he was dreaming because there was Kurohyou ripping off his mask, his arms pulling the chuunin back to him, his teeth biting down on the nape of his neck, just beneath his collar.

“Kurohyou! I love you!” Izumo cried as the butt plug was jerked from his ass and thrown aside, and his lover’s cock thrust into him. Oh, god, it had been a rough mission—the black eyes that stared over Izumo’s shoulder as that body thrust into him again and again, were still icy cold, almost dead. “Please, love, please, oh, god, please,” begged Izumo, overwhelmed with desires—he needed to kiss his lover, hold him, undress him, and he wanted to come, to come with him. But a part of him thrilled in this harsh, sudden fucking, the biting, the silence, and the way the hand not on his cock jerked at his nipple ring. “Master!” cried out Izumo, “Fuck me!”

And the black eyes in the mirror came alive, and Kurohyou snarled, biting down on his shoulder, coming in him, filling him, and making Izumo shudder from his head to his toes. But no sooner had he come, then Kurohyou pulled out and spun Izumo around, crushing his mouth under his kiss. It was that same kiss that had lead to their naming each other—a kiss that claimed and conquered and threatened to suffocate Izumo, a kiss worth dying for, a kiss that could make you come. And when his mouth was freed, Izumo’s hands were chained above his head in the shower. His panther was shedding his clothes with that shocking speed, and then the water was pouring over them as Izumo’s legs flew up in the air, and his lover once more filled his ass full with his cock in one steady stroke.

He fucked Izumo until the hot water ran out, and then pulled out, leaving him balancing on his tiptoes, dazed and so aroused he was beyond speech. For Kurohyou had completely mastered his body—he knew every spot that aroused Izumo, knew just where and when to scratch or bite, pinch or lick, rub or blow his breath over. In the small shower in front of him, leaving Izumo in this anguish of sexual need, his lover calmly washed and scrubbed himself in the cold water, once leaning over to tug one of Izumo’s nipple rings, and once pausing to leave a hickey by the curve of his hip bone. At last when he was scrubbed clean, his hair washed, Kurohyou knelt down and took Izumo’s cock into his mouth. He didn’t torment his lover long, quickly pulling off the cock ring and letting him come deep in his throat, screaming, with only the sound of the shower to muffle that orgasmic shout.

After giving Izumo a quick wash in that frigid water, he carefully dried him off. And then, oh, then, Izumo loved this part. He got to comb and dry his lover’s hair, brushing its sleek black length, now longer since he was no longer cutting it because Izumo enjoyed playing with it so much. And when Kurohyou took the brush from him, Izumo knelt down and began to suck his cock eagerly. This, god, this, he could never get enough of. And he was so lost in his own pleasure in tasting his lover, feeling him pulse in his throat, he didn’t lift his head at Kurohyou’s first tug.

But that too, brought pleasure, for his master still held that hairbrush and pulled him over his lap, spanking him. At first the brush felt good, but Kurohyou hit hard and kept going until Izumo’s ass was on fire, and he couldn’t help but sob. He begged, but the spanking didn’t stop until he gave a little scream. And then his burning, sore asschecks were spread, and the brush handle pushed in, and then his lover began to fuck him with the brush. He soon found Izumo’s prostate, and his cries of pain became cries of pleasure. The chuunin’s cock swelled again, brushing against his lover’s hardness as the handle of the brush hit his prostate again and again. And then, oh god, then, Kurohyou’s other hand played with his neck, his ear, his armpit. It stroked down his spine, reaching under his body and tugging on his nipple rings.

His red, abused asscheeks were there for Kurohyou to see, and that brush slid in and out of him, making him moan and writhe while that other hand teased and aroused. Then Kurohyou said, “My little bitch, my Iriomote, mine!” and Izumo came again violently. When he’d stilled at last over his lover’s lap, the voice he loved ordered, “Lick it up.”

He left the hairbrush in Izumo’s ass, and it was both humiliating and exciting to lick at his lover’s crotch, his thighs, down his legs, even on a bit of the bathroom floor, cleaning up his own cum with the very brush that had made his ass burn so, still wedged inside it. When he was done, Kurohyou picked up the mouthwash and took a large swig, swirling it around in his mouth, before bending to pass it to Izumo’s. A tug on his collar, and Izumo was at the sink. And after the mouthwash was gone, there was a mouthful of water passed to him from Kurohyou’s mouth, and then another, and then they were kissing, and Kurohyou was carrying him to the bedroom.

He put the cockring back on Izumo, chained him up, and took his time, relearning each bit of his skin, and marking him again and again, until Izumo was once more his master’s shy little spotted Iriomote. And then at last, some fifty minutes later, he lifted Izumo up on to his knees, sliding into him from behind, each thrust pressing his groin against the chuunin’s still rosy asscheeks. Izumo was incoherent with need, and his lover seemed to have pushed himself too far as well, for he fucked Izumo in hard, quick strokes, his pace getting even faster as his hand reached under and flew on Izumo’s cock. Suddenly, with a high, keening cry, he stilled and pulled off the leather restraint.

They came as one, their bodies and cries twined, their voices singing the oldest of mankind’s duets. Izumo’s chains came undone as they collapsed together and twisted around them, catching in Kurohyou’s hair that hung over them as they stretched and shifted to kiss. At last Izumo lay on his back, Kurohyou over him, hair, chains, cum, and sweat sticking them together as they pressed their lips and mouths together, kissing again and again.

Finally, panting, Izumo turned his head a little to catch his breath. Kurohyou lifted up his face enough for them to look at each other. “I love you, Izumo,” he said in a soft quiet voice, and then, for the first time since he arrived home, he smiled.

Izumo’s back arched, and his cock shot out one last burst of cum between them.

And above him, Kurohyou let out a sound like musical chimes that made Izumo’s heart stop with its beauty.

His black panther had laughed, truly laughed.

It was a joy so intense, it hurt, and the tears flowed out of Izumo’s eyes. But his lover dipped down his head and began to lap up those tears, purring, rubbing and rocking his body over Izumo’s until that one perfect moment became the past—as anything perfect will, too pure, too rich, to hold for more than that one blessed spot of time, that one moment in a lifetime.

But it shimmered inside Izumo’s mind, the memory eternal, and he knew that it would be in his thoughts as he took his dying breath.

And for the rest of the night, and all of their long lives to come, the panther and the little wild cat loved.


The End


*****
Yes, there will be at least one sequel, Kotetsu's Problem. Ibiki's Problem will probably follow . . .