Testing the Walls

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter one and also Teasing the Edges, especially AnimeCookie, the only person so far to review both. Thanks for the insightful and inspiring reviews, I'm glad you're eagerly awaiting updates and I'll try not to disappoint.

Testing the Walls
Part Two: Ibiki

Ibiki leaned against the wall of the shower and tried to stop the constant wave of images assaulting him. Try as he might, visions of the tempting redhead panting and gasping as he took two cocks just wouldn’t leave him. He always did have a thing for the pretty, slutty ones. Too bad, they were never interested in him back. Pretty people tended to attract other pretty people, and Ibiki had never been pretty, even before he got his scars.

But those scars definitely didn’t make life easy for him, well at least his sex life. They could be pretty useful in his line of work though. His scars were mark of battle, proof of being a warrior, and they tended to intimidate the hell out of most people. So when he went on missions he almost always went with his head bare.

But when he was trying to pick up a man, even in a hat and long sleeves to cover the worst of it, he still couldn’t get anyone interested in coming home with him. Not that he’d know what he’d do with them when he got them there. He’d never found a single person who let him go as far as he wanted in the bedroom. But all of that had been years ago.

He no longer tried to find a sexual companion. He no longer felt the need to take a lover. Bitterness at being rejected by those he was interested in made him unwilling to try. Disappointment in the results from the few times people pursued him pushed the need to the backburner. And finally the horror of the life he lead and seeing the things he did every day bled the desire from him until sex rarely crossed his mind anymore.

Of course he still had physical needs just like any other red-blooded man, but he simply masturbated to relieve the tension. There were no fantasies involved, and the pleasure barely registered with his body. He’d built up these walls between the needs of his body, and the desires lurking in the dark corners of his mind, and he was determined that nothing would get through them.

But now there was hot-bodied, kinky redhead testing those walls. The arousal he’d felt sitting outside that window, watching the slim man get fucked by two men, had reawakened desires that he thought had been extinguished. But obviously they hadn’t been, they were just laying dormant, waiting for the most inopportune time to resurface.

Ibiki didn’t want to want again. He didn’t want to be that unfocused again. After he’d shut down that part of himself, the part that wanted something and couldn’t find it and felt bitter defeat at each disappointment but continued to search, after that had been purged from him, everything else in his life had seemed easier.

It was easier to build up the Hidden Village, taking it from the chaos and disarray it had been and making it smooth and streamlined. It was easier to go home from each mission to an empty house. It was easier to spend days without sleep and food, to physically torture himself, there was no one at home to mind or show concern when he returned. And it definitely made it easier when he added a new scar to his collection, because no longer did each one symbolize him moving farther and farther away from his goal.

He didn’t want to feel arousal and desire again, and those things were resurfacing, but he was ok as long as they didn’t shift into need. So far he managed to keep his walls in tact enough to keep the shift from happening. Anyone who saw him would have thought that his legendary calm and control were still in tact, the only outward sign of his struggle was his increased breathing. But inside, he was a mess.
Each panting, gasping breath signaled a new thought, a new flash of memory. The way Gaara’s moans had deepened and intensified when his head had been forced down on one cock, the way he’d desperately stroked himself trying to find release as he’d rode another, and the ecstasy on his face as the head of a second cock slipped inside him, these were the images flickering and circling through his inner eye at the speed of light, barely giving him the chance to enjoy them, teasing his mind to come out and play.

The visions were threatening to break him, but he was holding strong. That is until the darker part of him opened up a bit. The image of Gaara being fucked by two men blurred and shifted and when it came back into focus Gaara’s arms had been bound by leather straps, there was a collar around his neck, and his screams of pleasure were muffled by the gag in his mouth.

Ibiki moaned aloud at the image, tame compared to the fantasies long buried under reason and practicality, but the illicit thrill of layering part of his needs on top of something that had happened in reality was shocking in its intensity. His mind further embellished the image, which had now frozen in his thoughts, by adding a chain connecting the redhead’s collar to the wall, and red stripes from a whip or crop decorating his back and ass.

And then Ibiki broke. Wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking, he imagined himself beating and humiliating Gaara, brutally fucking him, twisting and playing with his thoughts, toying with his needs, and the redhead loving every minute of it, moaning in a way not imagined, but based on actual memory. He came hard with the sound of Gaara’s embellished begging ringing in his ears, and with the sweet release sanity returned.

The steel doors around his heart, which had cracked open, slammed shut with finality. Ibiki cursed his own stupidity and weakness. Not only was he positive that Gaara was uninterested in him, the redhead had made that painfully obvious by not hiding his reaction to Ibiki’s scars upon meeting him, but Gaara also threatened something much more vital to Ibiki than his dormant sexuality- Hidden Village.

Ibiki was sure, as he washed himself hurriedly, that Gaara had run through all of his options and had decided that the only real, viable one was to trust Ibiki, but he could never be sure. It was almost certain that Gaara was feeling cornered, and when dangerous people were feeling cornered they were the most unpredictable. He could only hope that Gaara wouldn’t fuck him over in the long run.

Everything he’d ever cared about was wrapped up in Hidden Village. He’d known all his life that he’d inherit the secret group of assassins when his father died. He just hadn’t expected his father to die so young, or for the organization to be about to fall apart. Years of hard work and sacrifice had restored his family’s legacy and repaired its tarnished reputation among their customer base.

Now Hidden Village had a global reputation for being able to pull off anything, from a simple assassination to specialized interrogation to recovering stolen artifacts. Ibiki was amused at how different things were now from the original mission of Hidden Village. Eighty years ago his great-grandfather had started Hidden Village and he probably couldn’t have imagined how successful his idea would have become.

His great-grandfather had been a Japanese immigrant living in New York City, and involved with the mob. He quickly earned a reputation for cruelty and depravity, and was put in charge of executions and assassinations. After a few years spent perfecting and honing his skills, he decided that he didn’t need the mob anymore, so he killed everyone who tried to keep him from leaving and struck out on his own.

He gathered a rag tag group of underlings and formed Hidden Village with the intention of becoming an elite group of hitmen. They’d originally only taken jobs from mob bosses and other hardcore criminals, but their success caused their reputation to expand, and therefore so did their clientele. Soon wealth businessmen wanted help to rid them of their competition, while their wives were coming up with elaborate schemes to have them offed so that it looked like an accident and they could collect the insurance money.

And things had only gotten bigger and more widespread as the years went by. Now Hidden Village was almost military-like in its execution of jobs, all run under Ibiki’s iron fist. Clients had to be pre-approved through a system of his design, then job requests were submitted directly to Ibiki, and then an operative was sent out to accomplish the task. So far things had been running flawlessly for Ibiki, and he hoped this troublesome redhead wasn’t the first kink in his system.

Ibiki exited the shower and walked into the main room of his hotel suite (yes, a suite, high priced assassins traveled well), and was not surprised to see his second in command, Kakashi, sitting on the huge bed. Kakashi allowed him his privacy as he pulled on a pair of loose cotton sleep pants and waited until Ibiki grunted in acknowledgement to speak.

“Feel better?” he asked. “No. How’s our redhead?” Ibiki answered. “He’s a smart boy. Took the bodies to the pier. They’re sleeping with the fishes tonight.” “How very old school gangster of him.” Ibiki muttered, but he was very glad that Gaara was smart enough not to get himself caught with a couple of stiffs. That was the cardinal rule of being an assassin, never let yourself be linked to the body.

“But we’ve got bigger problems Ibiki.” Kakashi said switching topics quickly. Ibiki raised an eyebrow at him to elaborate when it became clear that he wasn’t going to do so without encouragement. “Sasuke Uchiha, where is he?” Kakashi asked by way of answer.

“Belize. Trying to stop a small riot from becoming a full blown attempt to overthrow the government.”

“When’s he due back?”

“When he’s finished.”

“Ibiki…”

“Three weeks.”

“As soon as he gets back call him in.”

“Because…”

“Because someone is looking for him, and I think they may have found him.”

“Why do I have the feeling that this is going to fuck us big time?”

“Because it is.”

Well fuck. Ibiki of course knew exactly who Kakashi was talking about, they’d been waiting for this situation to arise for years, ever since the boy had first come to them. That still didn’t mean they were any more prepared for it though, and Ibiki strongly suspected that neither was Sasuke. So he do the only thing he could for now, waited for Sasuke to return to the States and for the shit to hit the fan.

A/N: I know that this was really short, and that I probably could have put this info in other chapters later on down the road, but I really felt the need to put it all together and to get it out there to avoid confusion, so sorry if you guys were disappointed by this. I’ll try to make it up to you next go round I promise!