Just Dance (It'll Be Ok)

Sickening? hopefully. I'm sure there are still some flaws, and I've been over this fic for months. I wanted this up a long time ago, but life got in the way. I intend to update all the fics that need updating within the next week or so, but I make no promises. I'm not happy even with all the work I put into this, and I rewrote about half of it when I realized how backwards it felt. So... yeah. I know it's not great, but I don't feel right leaving it unfinished or updating other things first.

fun fact: this story has the most hits of anything I've written, and it's also the sickest. so even though people say its gross, they read it anyway (weird, huh?)

Thanks to: Zinc, beatngufan, japanese pro, Havoc Tellenoi, GoddessMU1313, and misswarchan for reviewing! The honesty made my day (even though most of you hated some parts haha)

and so, over twenty pages of my bloody imagination:

88*88

Itachi woke with a yell and sat straight up in his own bed. He was clean, warm, and in his own clothes, though the remnants of what was surely a nightmare clung to his thoughts the same way his clothes did to his body from the cold sweat all over him. The sun shone in through the windows exacerbating his headache; judging by the light’s reach on the carpet it was around two in the afternoon.


He heard a mumble and turned to his side to see his younger brother curled up on the bed beside him, shivering slightly as he was sleeping on top of the blankets. He scooted Sasuke underneath the covers with him and contemplated what this all meant. What had happened? He remembered going to Kabuto’s party. And then… what? Something significant, he was sure. He knew he should be angry about something, and guilty… or was that humiliation lurking beneath? The vapors of his memory supplied him with little else, just flashes of shouting and dizzy feelings and a big animal and wet blankets and long black hair that didn’t smell like his.


It was confusing so he decided to let it go for now and enjoy the quiet. He gently rubbed his head to ease the ache until a hand poked his upper arm. He looked down at his brother blinking up at him adorably. “There’s some medicine on the nightstand, nii-san.” Sure enough there was, as well as a full glass of water, and Itachi took twice the recommended amount before laying back down.


After a while Itachi offered to make lunch. Sasuke bounded happily out of the room, excited his brother was awake and amiable, so he missed Itachi’s stumble as tried to stand. His ass was killing him, and not in the I-fell-on-it way. Another chunk of memory surfaced and he blanched. He couldn’t be absolutely certain… he was pretty sure this level of discomfort in such a… concentrated spot meant… penetration.


He automatically shuddered at the thought of the word.


Absolutely ridiculous! Uchiha do not bottom for anyone.


But…


Those horrible little words ‘what if’ were nagging him so.


Better to be certain beyond any doubt. He stood before the mirror and slowly undressed. He gaped at long claw marks on his back and shoulders; the cuts extended from his shoulder blades to his pectorals in the front and even a slice or two on his neck. The stinging scratches were shallow yet plentiful. He checked his arms for injection holes for he knew he hadn’t drank enough for a blackout like this and was surprised that his arms were normal other than the occasional scratch.


Preparing himself for the worst, he took off his pajama pants and boxers and inspected his hole. The angle was awkward, so he went on all fours on his bed and felt it to be sure. It looked big—stretched was the right word, scarlet red like it’d been rubbed raw, and as he tried to see if what felt like scrapes inside really were scrapes he saw a trickle of blood from it run down his thigh. At that moment he knew.


He fell onto the bed and curled into fetal position, forgetting completely about food and his brother. Well, if he was right, then someone had slipped him something. But what? The last thing he remembered ingesting was some pretzels but food was an unlikely source and they tasted stale so he couldn’t have eaten more than three.


Oh! After that Kabuto had found him and that was when things got really blurry. His classmate had handed him off-color “tequila shots”—at least that’s what he remembered Kabuto calling them-- but after that his memory provided mere incoherent fragments.


“Itachi?” The man in question jumped and grabbed the blanket to cover himself, but Sasuke knew. Itachi could see it in his eyes so he turned away from his brother and the mirror to face the window, wishing the sun would reach him and make him warm again.


Sasuke sat down with his brother on the bed again, seeing that he wouldn’t meet his eyes and was unwilling to move. How dare anyone hurt his brother? Soothingly, he brushed his brother’s back, gently avoiding the claw marks. “Do you remember anything?”


The man stayed silent, feeling even more humiliated that his little brother figured out some of what went on the night before. After all, who else would have gotten him clean? Whoever brought him home might have. Sasuke could drive, but then someone would have told his brother where to pick him up. And he didn’t like the thought of defenseless Sasuke going into the snake pit. “How did I get home?”


“This morning you were left at the door by two men driving a blood red van.” It was painful to see his brother struggling like this. Anger began to swell and twist his gut but restraining it was best until he knew how Itachi was planning to handle this. “It was Orochimaru-sensei and Kabuto-senpai.”


Itachi’s whole body involuntarily twitched. “Do you remember if anyone else was involved?”


“I don’t think so.” It was silent for a bit. Sasuke shifted to get more on the bed, playing with his brother’s hair. “They drugged me.” There was a growl in it that satisfied Sasuke. Aniki had every right to cry and he certainly hoped at some point he would feel comfortable letting it out, but for now it was better for Itachi to let anger fill him.


“I have a plan.”


Itachi turned over, allowing himself a wince as he embraced his brother with a dark chuckle. “Alright, otouto. We’re in this together, after all.” His stomach growled; he stood up and dressed again. “As long as we can’t get in trouble, you can do whatever you like.”


“I can get them where we need them. I’m friends with Gaara, after all.”


They walked down the stairs to the kitchen arm in arm, hungry for more than lunch.


***

Orochimaru had been thrown into a dark place. The hood over his head was not very thick and he was bound, hands together behind his back and ankles against his thighs. It was uncomfortable, but his environment was just as worrying. His assailants hadn’t spoken a word to him, just blocked his sight and tied him up before throwing him down some stairs.


Water dripped somewhere nearby and a large animal growled when he moved too much. The floor was crunchy with broken glass and sharp gravel, but that might be to his advantage. When his attackers returned he would at least know what direction they came from.


What if they weren’t coming back? In the steady corner of his mind he’d been counting the seconds. He knew the men had taken him Friday after school and threw him down here ten hours and twenty-three minutes ago. No one had responded when he called out, which meant he was securely hidden. There were a few top-secret bank accounts he had access to, but ransom didn’t seem likely as even the sum of the accounts wasn’t that much. Yet he knew he might be smart enough to escape. Hope wasn’t beyond him yet.


* * *


Saturday morning had come again, they stumbled out of bed. Knowing the reason they were awake this early excited them so much they nearly fought over who got to shower first.


Dressed and fed, they waited for the doorbell. There Kankuro Sabaku was waiting to escort them to the location; the eldest Sabaku sibling sat in the driver’s seat munching a bagel and she greeted the Uchiha brothers with a wink as they climbed in. “Gaara will be arriving later.” She rapidly pulled away, the pristine Nero Maserati Quattroporte conspicuous but the stars were the only silent witnesses to the strange departure.


“I thought I told Gaara not to come. I don’t want him to get involved in this sort of messy situation.” Sasuke frowned.


Temari shrugged. “I agree with you, but unfortunately he’s the boss’s favorite. His vote counts for more than ours.”


“More like we don’t have any votes to begin with.” Kankuro turned around to talk face-to-face, more fidgety than his sister by nature. “Gaara is the Commander and the best at these things, even if the little punk is the youngest.” Itachi could see it wasn’t resentment but the instinctive need to protect their sibling that drove their argument. He could relate to that.


Sasuke knew his friend had done things like this before; that didn’t mean it was acceptable to do more illegal things, much less as a favor to a friend. But clearly his say didn’t count for much, either. “So he is. He did coordinate most of this operation, so I guess we can’t really object to him being there, huh, aniki?”


Itachi didn’t care either way. “I need to see those men in pain, otouto. That’s all that matters.” Sasuke felt like he was being a bit insensitive, so he leaned into his brother to comfort him wordlessly.


“So… what did these assholes do to you, anyway? They’re not good guys, we know, from what Gaara’s said, but usually common civilians aren’t so eager to torture others.” Kankuro couldn’t help being nosy. Or talking. Being a middle child had caused that tendency in so many of his kind to assert his existence constantly with speech. “What’d they do to you, anyway?” Unfortunately, the only other talkative person was arriving later and in a separate car, so when Itachi gave him a look that clearly said ‘back off’ and his sister told him to shut up, there was little he could do besides twiddle his thumbs to amuse himself.


Itachi was looking out the window with a stony glare that could make grown men cry. This was good, because watching Orochimaru-sensei crying would be all sorts of fun. However… “Itachi?”


“Hm?”


The younger brother fiddled with his sweatshirt sleeve. Should he ask? Maybe he was being melodramatic.


“Hey.” Itachi, sensing insecurity, poked his brother’s forehead. He held his little brother’s gaze until he answered.


“I matter more than your revenge, right nii-san?”


Itachi smiled with his eyes and wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders to pull him closer. And that was all the answer a younger brother ever needed.


* * *


He had several cold sweats in the last hour, all caused by some stupid dog that was pacing nearby. It must have been on a chain because it came within a terrifying distance but never seemed able to touch him. Once it snapped its teeth at him close enough to feel some of the saliva slop onto his face. He was simply unable to find the strength to move.


He tried to use the time he’d been given to his advantage. The first thing he could figure out was who. He vaguely remembered hearing his attackers referring to him sensei while conversing on a phone, so they knew he was a teacher. Maybe this was a high-school prank?


No. The feeling he got from this situation was significantly more sinister. Kabuto- wherever he was- kept talking about a weird feeling all week. The boy claimed to be a precog; maybe it wasn’t the bullshit Orochimaru had brushed it off as. A frightening thought occurred to him- Kabuto had woken up several times during the week screaming from nightmares he refused to discuss and after a terribly strong one he had destroyed beyond repair the only copies of the tape Orochimaru had. Since he’d only masturbated to it ten times, he was particularly upset with his assistant. All that hard work put into snaring the only Uchiha it was legal to screw, and Kabuto had obliterated the proof of his success.


Contrary to his earlier assumption, he did not have any audible clues that four people had joined him in the basement and were standing around him until one of them tugged the string on the overhead light. Seeing that his captors where none other than two of the Sabaku clan, known for mafia activity, made him want to piss his pants. He actually did when he looked into twin paralyzing glares; one, the vengeful young man he wronged and second, the beautiful boy he had wronged him for. And quite a bit too, if he was honest with himself.


“Good. You should be afraid.” The boy, Sasuke, was trying not to giggle, caught in the strange mix of emotions of rage beyond reason and the satisfaction of quenching it. He turned to Temari. “Do we have to wait for Gaara before we start?”


“Not unless you want to touch that.” She gestured towards the shaking man on the floor. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of him. “The Commander is bringing his miniature army, so we obviously can’t kill that until they get here.” She thought for a moment. “He is also bringing a variety of experimental drugs for while we play with the other poor fucker, but you may hit him if you can’t wait.”


Sasuke started to charge forward but his older brother’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “I don’t want you to get your hands dirty, otouto.”


“What?! Then why am I even here?” He pouted. Itachi promised he could! Why would he go changing his mind now?


“I mean it in the literal sense.” He tried not to roll his eyes. If little Sasuke was that eager to torment someone, he should’ve left him out of this. “Go play with the dog while you wait.” Still pouting, he walked over to the growling puppy and rubbed it between the ears. He had been trained to answer only to Gaara, but the boy petting him had a similar aura. He licked the boy’s hand, tail starting to wag.


The two Sabaku siblings split up to check security; Temari went upstairs and outside to make sure the only people to come were the right ones and Kankuro double checked all the walls, windows, and cracks. There were two small windows up near the ceiling, just enough to let some light in now that the sun was rising. He made a note to get them covered as soon as possible from both inside and outside and continued to double sound proof the room.


Itachi waited until they were busy before kneeling beside his captive. “So.” The man was shaking, but this might be his only chance to escape. He spoke in a low voice, hoping to negotiate. “Do they know what I did to you? Does your brother know?”


Itachi smirked. He was going to threaten him? Really? “Not all of it. I couldn’t remember at first because of the drugs you slipped me, but I am aware now of how much I owe you.”


He went for it. “If you don’t release me now, I’ll tell them.” He continued in a whisper. “I’ll tell them all those things in detail, and how much you liked it, how you begged fo-”


And suddenly he could no longer speak because his mouth was full of gravel. He grunted and tried very hard not to swallow it. Sharp points struck the roof of his mouth and stung his tongue and bits and pieces were slipping into the cracks between his teeth. Infinitesimal shards of glass were slicing his gums open in tiny, tiny cuts that were just deep enough to bleed.


The Uchiha’s smirk widened. “If you behave yourself, this will only last one day.” He stood, looking down on his captive. The man was trying to spit out the mess but he barely had the energy. He finally managed to turn his head to the side and spit out most of it. “And I know you think you have nothing to lose and want to talk anyway, but your actions have a direct impact on Kabuto’s welfare.” Itachi enjoyed way too much the spark of terror growing in the golden eyes.


A slow clap was heard across the room. Itachi looked up, amused, and there was Gaara. “Maybe you should join my team. We pay pretty well.” High-school students shouldn’t look intimidating, and they shouldn’t look like they belong in dark suits, or surrounded by large bodyguards— but Gaara fit right in standing between three tough, tattooed men in suits. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He said softly. Talking was generally left to his underlings (and more often than not, Naruto), but he wasn’t going to be rude to the handsome older man that had brought him prey.


Itachi walked over and was surprised at how small the boy was. Well, he was only sixteen. He put out his hand, and the redhead shook it briefly. “Itachi Uchiha. My brother’s over there.” He gestured to where Sasuke and the dog were playing fetch. Gaara frowned slightly. A loud voice cut in before Itachi could ask what was wrong.


“Haha! And you thought Jaws only liked you. Though it figures he would like teme.” The blond had practically hopped down the stairs, cheerful as if this was a party. Itachi immediately knew who this boy was. The blonde looked at Itachi and knew just who he was too. “Hey, Itachi.” He smiled genuinely.


The Uchiha very nearly smiled back. He was legitimately happy and seemed determined to spread his laughter. No wonder Sasuke clashed with this boy. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Naruto.”


The blond made a face. “Yeah, I bet Sasuke says tons of great things about me.” Hearing his loud classmate had brought to Sasuke’s attention the new arrivals. He walked over, patting the dog on its head when its leash reached no further. “It’s alright to be jealous of my infectious personality, bastard.” Naruto teased.


He snorted. “Why would I be jealous of stupidity so immense it’s contagious?” They looked like they were going to fight, but then the other member of Gaara’s posse entered. He was tall, almost as tall as Itachi who stood at least a foot above the teens; he nearly matched the Uchiha, too, because few people had that exact shade of blackish blue hair, coal eyes, snow-white skin, and a sharp personality and biting wit.


Sasuke seemed happier to see him than he had been to see Naruto, but it wasn’t because he liked the boy. Sai insulted Naruto a lot, which Sasuke found amusing. “Let’s hope his dicklessness isn’t as contagious as his stupidity, or we might be in trouble.”


Sai and Naruto continued their argument over petty insults while Gaara took charge of his men. “Boys. Report.”


All three bodyguards simultaneously put their hands to the communicators in their ears, broadcasting through the earpieces to the other men on their secure channel. “The perimeter is secure and we have a four man patrol on a five minute rotation, sir.”


The middle man spoke next. “We called in a fake bomb threat for the municipal building across town, so the police should be preoccupied just in case, sir.”


“They’re bringing down the remaining equipment at this moment, and Victim 2 is bound and gagged with the first round of drugs in him, sir.” Said number three.


Kankuro came over, also broadcasting onto their channel. Gaara liked all his people to know where the others were, thus even his siblings were required to communicate constantly with his men on the same frequency. “I’ve set up the worst-case-scenario escape route.”


Temari came back down the stairs, followed by men carrying a chair and some other things. “We’re green, Commander.”


Gaara smiled, a scary event even without the switchblade he played with in his hand or the torture equipment he owned being set up by the army of men he commanded. “Let’s begin.”


***


“Welcome, Kabuto-senpai.” Gaara spread his arms in a welcoming gesture that would have been convincing if not for his insane smile. “We will be merciful with you. I promise you, right now, that nothing I do to you will put your life in danger.”


Clearly the kidnapped man did not believe him. Since the two guards still held an arm each they easily hoisted him into a sturdy wooden chair, then strapped both legs, arms, wrists, and neck with thick leather straps to insure immobility. His eyes flickered rapidly between the teen towering over him and his bound and gagged lover on the floor. “Just like in my dream…” Imagining his fate caused irrepressible shudders of dread and fear.


Two out of three Sabaku siblings prefer weapons. The third, despite his young age, loves to get his hands dirty- literally. He likes the squish of flesh and the slick feel of blood in between his fingers.


The moment the last buckle was clicked into place and Victim was securely strapped into the chair, he began beating him with his fists- stomach first, then chest, skip-the-throat-to-preserve-pain-noises and face. Bones snapped, ribs cracked, teeth broke and blood splattered everywhere as the teen vented his anger. He preferred a fair fight to harming the helpless, but this was torture. And Kabuto would be helpless against him no matter what advantages the four-eyes had anyway.


He stopped slamming his fists into the yielding flesh though, and was proud he had restrained himself enough to have avoided Victim’s eyes. Contrary to the popular opinion, Gaara thought himself quite reasonable. The eyes are the windows to the soul and he wanted to see this man’s soul in utter despair; ergo Gaara needed to see victim’s eyes.


Gaara held his hand out to the side, and a pair of forceps were placed in his hand. The redhead grasped them firmly in one hand and clenched Victim’s jaw in another, forcing his mouth open to an “o.” Empty the forceps went in and bloody with tooth they came out. Victim half-gargled, half screamed as blood drained down his gullet. His nerves were torn where a back tooth had been and the blood burst forth and spilled over his lips and down his chin. Kabuto swallowed; either that or choke. It hurt, but he kept his mouth shut because Gaara had dropped the extracted tooth and was glaring at him.


“Open. I want another one.” Kabuto shook his head, and even closed, blood sloshed out of his mouth. “I have to make it even. One from each side.” His student-teacher gave him a look, saying ‘as if that makes me want to open my mouth,’ but that annoyed the redhead so he punched his bruised cheek meeting his knuckle precisely where the hole in his tooth line was now. Unconsciously his jaw dropped open.


The forceps went in and slowly this time they wiggled the tooth free. It hurt more – the gradual tearing of the periodontal ligament and how his jaw was forced open all the way strained and exacerbated the pain. Blood filled the back of his throat again and Gaara waited until he tried to swallow to yank the molar out. Gaara nearly giggled when Victim tried to choke and scream at the same time, making a hurt-animal-noise at an atrocious volume. Gaara passed the tooth and forceps to a guard and looked over Victim, summarizing his work and musing over what would be most fun next.


Kabuto had no chance to sigh in relief, though, because his tormentor grabbed his pointer finger and turned it upwards until it broke. He cried out, tears making tracks on his dirty and blood-splattered face. He didn’t want to see—it felt like it was – his peripheral vision gave him a glimpse—he glanced down unwillingly and screamed anew when he saw his bone broken through his skin.


“Hmmm.” The redhead usually felt more satisfaction when snapping fingers. “Perhaps something new…” He snatched the needle nose pliers off the table and returned to Victim’s side quicker than most could see him.


Victim’s brain was processing all things rather well from the activated adrenaline; unfortunately with this level of pain very little was eased by his body’s chemicals. He clenched his teeth, ignoring the throbbing pain the action brought about thanks to Gaara’s ‘dental work.’


Almost gently he pushed Victim’s finger flat against the wooden armrest and pinched the tip on either side of the nail. The redhead didn’t bother utilizing any muscular power to resist the struggles of Victim since his size belied his strength. The pliers were somewhat difficult to wedge properly but he managed and immediately squeezed them tight with the nail between. Grunts and groans came from twisting the enamel, and with a jerk of Gaara’s arm Victim was brought to a new threshold of pain. He flailed as much as he could, torrents of tears blurring his vision and wordless cries deafening his own ears to the gentle words his tormentor spoke.


“That’s right. Go ahead and scream. No one will save you.” The Commander repeated the process: (1) a jab to get the pliers beneath the nail. (2) a little twist to get it sufficiently under to (3) pinch the pliers and (4) to pull back his arm quickly to get the entire nail away. He attempted a slower extraction on the thumbnail, but it was less fun because the enamel snapped and only three-quarters of the nail remained in the pliers. And Gaara didn’t like leaving his work half-done, so he felt he needed to dig the pliers into the bleeding cuticle and pull until the rest of nail plate was removed.


His favorite part wasn’t the blood everywhere, though that was pleasant. It matched his hair and from the looks he’d received at previous sessions, he knew he was damn good-looking in blood. Probably the only person who was hotter than himself when decked out in blood was Sai; though the older Uchiha would be beautiful too, he was sure, if he ever got the chance to see such a sight.


But no, the screams— glorious!— were his favorite part. Usually people who were terrible singers were the better screamers. Loud screams were nice, because Gaara liked to hear the range and the way the voice would tremble depending on where pressure was applied. Girls weren’t much fun to torture (though it had been necessary once) because the pitch went up too high. Men were more fun—to make them achieve octaves they themselves didn’t know they were capable of. The despair, the anguish, the way it mixed with each violent struggle to breathe- oh! it was magnificent, and it was usually when he was listening to a particularly good screamer, one who gyrated underneath the straps of the chair and moved just the way he wanted them to, and bled at every incision he made— it was moments like these that he felt a stirring in his groin. Yes, people like Kabuto were the most fun to torture.


The last nail was out, and Gaara thought he’d given Victim a chance to recuperate. A guard handed him a water bottle and he looked to the elder Uchiha for approval as he downed it. The man could get his turn with the other one, but Gaara always got to play first.


He was a little surprised to see Itachi smiling. Imagining revenge is one thing but quite another to carry out and most felt sickened once the actual pain began. It was nice someone outside of his usual crown appreciated his work. Gaara smirked in answer and called for a sandwich to shut up his tummy.


“Hey, I want one too! I’ve been hungry for hours!” The blonde motioned the guard with the cooler closer and claimed a few sandwiches for himself.


“Of course you have, moron, you’re never not hungry.” Although Sasuke mocked his friend, he quickly claimed his own lunch and drink and turned to his brother. “Want one?” He nodded, and the brothers got comfy on a set of chairs that had appeared behind them. The guards set up chairs for the others, though Temari was taking a turn patrolling and Gaara wanted to circle Victim to watch his every movement. And since Kabuto couldn’t be sure Gaara wouldn’t attack just because he was eating a snack, the Commander appreciated the nice little dose of psychological torture.


“So how can we be sure,” Naruto said between munches, “that this guy isn’t going to talk?” He inhaled his second sandwich. “I mean, you said we’re letting him live, right? So how are we sure he won’t rat us out once he’s recovered enough to talk?”


“Fear, mostly.” Sai answered for Gaara. “The only reason we’re letting him live is because… actually, why are we not killing him? He was nearly as bad to us at school as Orochimaru-sensei was.”


Itachi glared at his younger brother at this tidbit of information. “What sort of things were these men up to, exactly?” The younger squirmed under the intense stared and tried to think quickly.


“Brother, its’ really not as bad as it sounds,” he flinched a bit, because it actually was, “and it only happened once, and I wasn’t even the target anyway-” Nii-san was never supposed to know since it wasn’t a big deal, and the secret wasn’t quite his to tell, either.


“Why would you keep something like that from me!” He felt partly hurt that his brother didn’t share with him, but mostly furious that he hadn’t been able to protect his brother from perverts like these. “What happened?” He demanded. “And don’t even try to lie to me.”


“Kabuto only touched my butt. It wasn’t big deal or anything.” He couldn’t help feeling guilty though it wasn’t his fault in the least. “But he stopped once he saw who I was, he even apologized.”


“He stopped when he recognized you?”


“Yes.” He replied nervously.


He wasn’t an older brother for nothing and knew he was missing something. The look on Sai’s face gave away the secret, and after a brief internal debate he let it go. For now. Somebody definitely needed to be watching over these boys more. They’re still young and need somebody to protect them. “I think I want to teach at your school.”


His younger brother wasn’t sure how it jumped topics but he wasn’t going to question it. “Yeah, there will be at least one vacancy.” He flicked his eyes to Victim. “We never really got an answer, Gaara. Why are you allowing him to survive?”


“Just that.” Which of course explained nothing, but the Commander didn’t care because he was trying to decide what he wanted to do to Victim next.


Kankuro chimed in, always ready to talk and happy people wanted to hear what he had to say. “He can stay alive because he’ll always know it was our mercy that let him. He’ll be so fucked up he might commit suicide anyway, which would make it easy for us, but even if he returns to his life as usual there will always be a Sabaku member hanging over his shoulder, no matter where he goes.” He chuckled at the pathetic whine from Victim as he heard his fate. “His crimes are relatively less severe, so we thought it’d be more fun to see how long we can drag out this game.”


“Our Commander is also learning to practice restraint.” Temari returned and rescued her lunch from Kankuro’s greedy hands. “I don’t think he’s ever left anyone alive before.”


Commander threw a couple needles over his shoulder and they sank deep into Victim’s shoulder with an accompanying scream. “I’m curious…” he turned to Victim with a jagged blade. “What will all this look like when we’ve given you time to heal? Especially this thing I have planned now. I’ve heard it’s spectacular.”


Naruto giggled at hearing ever-so-serious Gaara say ‘spectacular’ but quieted right away when Sasuke elbowed him for nearly killing the moment.


“Have you ever seen Batman, Kabuto-senpai?” The grey head bobbed, confused by the question that was as random as the needles had been. “You know about the legend of the Joker, then.”


A burst of laughter startled everyone except Gaara, who knew Naruto would appreciate it. “Damn, Gaara.” He said between giggles. “Have I ever told you I love you? Haha! This is going to be awesome!”


The Commander made a weird face. Love? What a troublesome thing. And from one of his best friends? From Naruto? He’d worry about it later. Like when there wasn’t someone screaming in beautiful pain in front of him and making him hard. “Do you understand what will happen?” He asked Victim.


Kabuto was appropriately scared, his weak and scrambled brain trying to remember what it could about the Joker. He dressed funny but that wasn’t much of a torture. And unless the redhead was odder than he thought, they weren’t going to tickle torture him to make him laugh. The character also had some scars on his fa—


“Nghhhmm!” All heads jerked to Orochimaru, who had been forgotten on the floor. Everyone understood by now the brutal level this torture was raised to.


“The Glasgow Smile.” Naruto really liked this macabre show. Even if Gaara wasn’t doing this specifically to make him feel better, he knew that his friend at least considered it a happy side-effect.


“Do it!” Itachi said viciously, memories of other types of facial abuse rising to the surface of his mind. “Do it now, and make that thing,” he gestured to the sensei, “watch.”


The Commander gave his approval and the guards brought Orochimaru-sensei closer and held his eyes to his lover. Gaara gleefully took a rock and with inexplicable strength wedged it into Kabuto jaw to hold his mouth open. He wiggled his head back and forth, tears streaming down his face and making his vision blurry as he pleaded with every cell in his body for mercy.


He began with the side that Orochimaru was on, so he could see the process easier. “It’s really a very little cut.” He assured the pitiful victim. Using his prized switchblade, the Commander slowly inserted just the tip into his mouth. Then, with one flick of his wrist, he started the incision.


Kabuto’s mouth was being forced wide open, straining his already pained jaw and the multiple places on his face where bruising had begun, yet there was no way he could move nor anything he could focus on to lessen this new pain. He could hardly breathe, but breathing harder meant his mouth moved and the knife slid vertically a bit while he steadied his breaths. He rolled his eyes as much as he could to Orochimaru, hating his lover for the scheme that put them here and trying to say with his eyes he still loved him and (though he knew it was useless) beseeching him for any help he could give.


Happily, the redhead sliced smoothly through about an inch of pulpy flesh, then repeated the treatment on the other cheek. He stepped back to see the overall view, and nicked another quarter of an inch of the left to make it even. He stifled a giggle and yanked the rock that was holding Victim’s mouth open, chipping the front teeth in the process. ‘For Naruto,’ he thought.


“For the final touch…” The pain prior to this had been more for his amusement than anything else, but he wanted to castrate this man to avenge Sai. Really, Kabuto should have known better than to pick on a friend of the Sabaku.


“Oh, those are wicked.” Sasuke said excitedly.


“How do you know what those are?” The blond gestured to the new instrument Gaara had retrieved. The heavy pliers were thick and shiny and very wide at the top.


“They’re for castration,” he paused for a dramatic effect, “on animals.”


“I didn’t ask what, teme, I know what they are—and that you’re supposed to use heavy anesthetics with the burdizzo. I asked how you know.”


“Well how did you know?” he crossed his arms over his chest.


“Have you not noticed who my best friend is?” He pointed to Gaara.


“I thought I was your best friend?” The brunette didn’t quite keep the hurt out of his voice, but Naruto only deciphered the offended half.


“Maybe if you weren’t constantly picking on me then—” Naruto defended himself until Gaara coughed and the fight fell apart like a fat man’s skinny plan in front of a donut store. The rivals gave each other a last glare and Itachi couldn’t help rolling his eyes.


“After I put these on you, I won’t hurt you anymore. You’ll be giving yourself pain now.” Gaara clamped the burdizzo down over his testicles and the blunt, excruciating pain made him open wide and scream and the stretch tore the sides of his ‘smile’ wider and the blood cascaded down, faster, thicker, more!— he tried to stop screaming [make it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOP] but it hurt so much— and the horror of it all kept him shrieking.


“You could at least thank me.” Victim couldn’t hear, much less process what the Commander was saying. “This is the bloodless method castration, and it has a very low risk of infection.” He would have been offended the he was being ignored if he wasn’t so satisfied with his work. He had underestimated how nice the mouth slits were; Kabuto would forever smile, thanks to him.


One of his guards had some medical training, and to this one he addressed, “Heal him as little as possible, only enough to keep him alive. I want him conscious for the final act of that thing.”


“Bring the other one here!” The Commander turned to Itachi. “You may do whatever you like. We are checking the effects of a drug on him, of course, but all tests so far show it will enhance the pain, not dull it.”


His only answer was a nod of determination.


***


Orochimaru’s neck was strapped to the chair, as were his hands, ankles, and torso, groggy from the round of drugs in his system. The room was dark again with the exception of the spotlight shining on him and a small fire in the corner. “We are testing experimental drugs on you. This,” his redhead student stopped for a dramatic pause, “is a special type of aphrodisiac. Third world countries sometimes use it to train whores to do things they wouldn’t normally find arousing.” The voice circled him, the lion taunting his already doomed prey. “In your case, it’s for humiliation purposes.


“You will notice, momentarily, that your senses will be heightened.” This was making it worse, because it was like right after the sentence was complete he started feeling it. “In another minute, you’ll discover that you feel everything exponentially more than you normally would.”


‘Death by drugs? It could be worse,’ was what Orochimaru was starting to think, but then Itachi came forward. The boy held with tongs a circular piece of metal about the size of a flattened marble glowing from sitting in the fire. He tried futilely to back away and stutter out a plea, a whimper, anything to stop the burning metal disc from coming closer. “Open wide.”


No! He wouldn’t… he couldn’t!


Itachi sighed and motioned a guard over, who held Orochimaru’s nose to stop his breathing then pried open his mouth. “Don’t be such a baby. It’ll only last a minute.” The teacher felt the heat from the disc as it came closer.


Searing pain! He screamed as it was placed on his tongue; the painful sensation became all he could feel. His body tried to react to the burning of his orifice. He couldn’t think except that he needed to get the burning to stop and he couldn’t move except for twisting his head a bit back and forth, which only worked against him as the insides of his cheeks received burns as well. He tried to spit it out but his tormenter held it firmly in his mouth. Surely a minute was over by now! Any other torture they had in store for him would be better than this!


“Have you ever seen such a reaction?” His tormenter mused. Penetrating through his screams he heard the soft reply of his hot redheaded student. “Only once.”


“Yeah!” The blond cut in. “It was that guy that attacked Temari, remember?” The blond turned enthusiastically to Sasuke, who had been present on that occasion. Sasuke ignored his friend in favor of checking Itachi’s reaction, who spared him the briefest look that communicated he needed a better hobby than helping the local mob torture people, but then focused on the subject again. He didn’t want to lose a single moment of his rapist’s pain. He counted out the last five seconds in his head then removed the disc.


Even with the painfully hot obstruction gone, Orochimaru’s mouth stayed open to help his breath come back in gasps as his tongue began to blister. Saliva that had welled up in a pitiful attempt to heal his mouth leaked out the corners, flecks flying out onto his chest with every deep gasping breath. His jaw wasn’t forced open anymore but the air ever so slightly soothed the burning, mutilated flesh of his mouth.


Thought returned to him, though nothing aside from the nearly numbing pain of what was left of his tongue was what was coming next. While he had originally thought the drugs superfluous, he could feel how they enhanced every painful sensation and brought him to point where he felt the need for more just as much as he wanted this all to stop. Dashing through his veins, the aphrodisiac made his body able to handle more while breaking down his defenses and making him cry pitifully.


The elder Uchiha pulled back into the darkness. “I wish I could videotape this.” He embraced the pleasure he got from the breakdown of his enemy. The redhead nodded, a vague smile dancing around his lips. While unsure of his brother’s friends in the beginning, Itachi had to admit that he felt a connection with the Commander. A loud voice piped up, “Why can’t we?” He was spared from answering, and thus a potential conversation, when Sai answered.


“Evidence, fool.” An (inexplicably) quiet conversation (argument) ensued, which Sai won using minimal effort causing Naruto to pout adorably. Sasuke smiled at the expression, and it became obvious to Itachi who his brother’s closest friend really was. However, discovery of the social patterns of his brother’s relationships was not the reason he had to come to an undisclosed warehouse and gone into the smelly basement. He was here for revenge and revenge only.


With that in mind, his hand sought out the other red-hot item on the menu: a pair of crocodile shears. He watched the man’s heaving chest and the golden eyes that tried to find him in the darkness; he shuddered imperceptibly at the memories that naked form drudged up, but with the device in his hand he moved without hesitation.


“Now you can’t speak, bitch,” saying it in just the right way to get Orochimaru to flinch at the memory of calling Itachi that. “What can you do with a damaged mouth? Seems to me like it won’t be good for anything.” He taunted. He brandished the crocodile shears and smirked in satisfaction at the recognition he detected in his prey’s eyes. The wicked thoughts sparking in his mind sang with justice, not cruelty. “Well, I suppose there is one use your mouth will never be too damaged for.” Itachi enjoyed the confusion splashed on the once so confident visage, and chomped the crocodile shears down on Orochimaru’s erect cock.


An agonized scream rang out across the basement, high, piercing; a sweet melody of pain. Sharp blades penetrated the organ meant to penetrate and burned the super-sensitive area mercilessly.


Orochimaru was crying erratically now, blood, tears, sweat and snot running down his face. Blood oozed out around needle-like spikes making Itachi want to cheer out loud. The scream reached a level beyond human hearing, and Itachi tugged on the weapon.


“You understand, don’t you?” The crying continued and noises that should have been words fell from the mutilated mouth. “This,” he tugged sharply this time, and more blood splattered on the chair and to the floor, falling in a steady rhythm. Orochimaru’s wordless moans for pity, for relief, for death escalated. “This no longer belongs to you.” With a wrenching sound all but inaudible beneath the pervert’s relentless shriek, the tormentor wrenched off the teacher’s dick.


The noise then was beyond any shriek, scream, or cry. The pain was unimaginable, and Orochimaru tried to black out but the drugs in his system kept him alert. His hair worked with his tears to obfuscate his view. Not like he wanted to see anything in what could only be his last moments in life. Was it possible to live through this much pain?


“Cauterize him, then string him up. He looks too comfy sitting there.” The pain did get worse- the burning sensation in his mouth had been pleasurable compared to the fire that scorched where his penis had been. Oh fuck, what a thought… had been… his brain wasn’t entirely convinced, and even the phantom pains were paralyzing.


To be emasculated in front of his enemies, his students… stripped of his clothing, his dignity, his pride, and now the one thing even the poorest, stupidest, most base man has. He cried without holding back, believing the worst to be over and his death imminent.


But on the edges of his consciousness he felt a strap wrapping around the back of his head and coming to the front. Something was shoved into his mouth, something long and stiff. What taste buds he had left informed him that it tasted of blood and a tangy unknown substance. He tried not to gag as the strap fastened in front of his orifice to hold the thing inside; his ears gradually relayed to his brain the message, “I was joking, by the way. Who on earth would want this? Here, have it back,” and his brain caught up with the realization that his mouth was his own penis was in his mouth.


He wanted to gag and moan at the same time, the drugs in his system telling his body that having a cock in his mouth was something to get horny about yet the absence of the organ that expressed arousal made it confused.


Itachi was admiring the pure terror and pain embedded into the expressive eyes before him. He felt movement at his side, and was surprised to see a very serious Naruto standing beside him, also glaring at the man hanging from the ceiling by his arms. The scissors in the blonde’s hand flashed brightly, reflecting the only light left in the room. His teacher hung low, feet dragging on the ground, but Naruto was grateful because otherwise he would have to ask for a chair. Or maybe Itachi would pick him up? But now wasn’t the time for his hormones to fantasize about his rival’s older brother.


The blond most definitely hated how much his teacher resembled Sasuke, Sai, and apparently Itachi, too- the pale skin, the long black hair, they even shared the same confident (arrogant) walk. The pale skin was drenched in blood from the waist down and was dripping out from the organ in his mouth and traveled slowly down his neck and chest to the place it originated from. It wasn’t like sensei was able to walk anywhere, either, but the hair was bugging him. Uchiha scooted over, giving Naruto his benison but unwilling to relinquish the proximity needed to enjoy fully the anguish.


It was a tough call, whether his teacher was more surprised to be alive still or to see his blonde student. Regardless of what his friends said, Naruto was far from idiocy. He had noticed the too-long glances and the sneaky-peeks into the locker rooms. Others had been targeted too; Sasuke and Sai not only looked alike but were both hot, and Gaara though intimidating possessed the same attractiveness of an A-list model. As for himself, Kabuto was more to blame for that though Orochimaru-sensei was the enabler. And now Sasuke’s older brother had been violated (from what he could gather, anyway). Despite the fact that his contribution was insignificant in comparison, he was unable to squash the need to participate in the gruesome justice.


The shears seemed to move of their will. Through sheer willpower Orochimaru’s red and watery eyes followed the sharp silver metal; they swished through the air in a brilliant arc, dancing around his face; nearly hitting here, barely scraping there and darting around until one biting edge cut open his cheek. It was unexpected and he gasped as the shear held the spot, digging in for a moment.


With the same happy smile reserved for best friends and family birthdays, Naruto sliced a gash on the man’s arm. Orochimaru had expected it that time, so it wasn’t as much fun. He immediately dropped the playful mood and grabbed a fistful of hair and chopped it off. The style was almost amusing and Naruto felt the temptation to leave it as it was, all crooked and uneven. His grin widened, a stark contrast to the panicked face of his teacher. He finished hacking away at Orochimaru’s hair, satisfied that when he had completed his task the man was virtually unrecognizable.


Agog for the next step but understanding it wasn’t his move to make, he reluctantly moved back to where he could see the Uchiha brothers standing with Sai, Gaara, and the Sabaku siblings.


“What next?” Sasuke’s voice had taken an unusual tone; if Itachi didn’t know better, he would say Sasuke was turned on by this. “Your turn, otouto.” He responded with a sickening smile, unaware that his voice held the same husky sound as Sasuke’s. Their eyes shared a dark sparkle as Sasuke grabbed the Pear of Anguish.


“May I?” He nodded. Sasuke had his own reasons for hating the man but Itachi would forgive him for being a little selfish. Among the student body there wasn’t a soul who didn’t know that Orochimaru was chasing after some of his students and that Sasuke was one of them (Itachi didn’t need to know the details since he was getting revenge anyway). Even he didn’t know all of what Itachi had gone through, but it was enough to know that his brother had suffered.


The boy snuck up behind his teacher, also glad that the legs were splayed out on the floor. He let the strange contraption glide down his teacher’s back and the man shuddered unpleasantly at the disturbing but welcome feeling of cold. Part of the device held the shape of a pear, and the other end was a handle, joined together by a screw.


The younger Uchiha stopped scraping the skin and slowly slid it down to rest near his lower back. “Usually, sensei,” Sasuke was unable to fully break the habit of calling his teacher ‘sensei,’ though he was sure Itachi appreciated the irony. He moved the petal-like end along Orochimaru’s butt crack as he continued, “usually, this sort of thing is in inserted in the mouth.


“However,” Sasuke violently shoved it in his teacher’s asshole, “since you’re busy sucking your own cock I guess this hole will have to do.” It was obvious that this was what Sasuke was aiming for: a merger between what had been done to his brother and attempted on himself, but in a more painful, more humiliating, and more fascinating way. Orochimaru’s screams came out more like grunts, muffled as they were by the organ forced in his mouth.


After it was jammed up in the anus so only the handle was sticking out, Sasuke grinned again. “Now we come to the fun part, sensei. We’ll play a game. Every question you get wrong is another turn of the screw. Understand?”


Since he had no clue what the words meant until the drugs overrode the tearing pain and regained some mental function, there was no way for Orochimaru to respond appropriately. Only another choked grunt escaped from a combination of blood, cum and piss trickling down the back of his throat as it slipped out of the dead dick. “Wrong answer.” Another grunt, this one backed by pain of an foreign kind.


“Here’s an easy question. What is the name of the instrument in your ass?” His teacher made a noise, and it might have sounded like an answer, but it wasn’t like Sasuke was asking the questions seriously. “Wrong! It’s called the Pear of Anguish.” With glee he turned the screw, forcing the muscles inside apart. The effect was to stretch the orifice in the most painful way possible. “Next. What country is last known for using this?”


“Mnnnmmhhh!”


“Wrong again!” Growing impatient, Sasuke gave the screw two turns. He circled his teacher so he could see him cry. “Holland.” He mimicked his teacher’s tone perfectly. This type of question-and-answer amused him— reversed school scenario. He turned the handle twice, just for sadism’s sake.


“Now for the harder questions.” He moved up into the man’s face so he could see through the tears and pain perfectly his livid expression. “What made you think you could get away with harming my brother?” His tone was cutting and though softer, it carried throughout the basement and up the stairs, festering abhorrence oozing from the room like pus.


“Still wrong.” A few more turns and Sasuke felt with satisfaction the steady streams of blood on the handle. “What made you think you deserved to touch my brother?” He turned the handle again. It was more difficult to do, as the ‘pear’ could only expand so much, but the accompanying screech from his victim was worth it.


“Final question.” The screams grew into a crescendo; Sasuke asked the one question impossible for his teacher to respond to incorrectly. “Are you sorry now, you son of a bitch?”


Orochimaru used what strength he had to nod his head but had another paroxysm as Sasuke turned the Pear of Anguish the final three turns. The blood flowed readily now from his anus and the handle was drenched in it, as well as Sasuke’s hand but he didn’t let that stop him from showing his delight to his squirming victim. “That was the right answer, but when you nodded your head I couldn’t help thinking you were asking for more, you pain-slut.”


Sasuke turned and coolly caught the wet cloth that a guard tossed him. He felt relieved; like a great weight had been lifted. So he uncharacteristically rushed to his brother for a hug. In his brother’s arms was the only place he felt a genuine peace. Torturing others was fun and, in this scenario, vindicating, but he was vaguely conscious that something about the nature of revenge was revealing itself.


Jaws, ignored for so long that he decided to take a nap, woke up when he smelled the treat Gaara tossed near him. He looked up at his master lovingly. The treat was a signal that he could chew on real meat soon. Master shifted focus back to his victim so Jaws trotted to Sasuke’s side for a bit of attention, which the boy gladly gave in the form of a rub between the ears.


Sai didn’t want to deny the urge to use the strange whip he’d seen lying on a separate table. “This looks like fun.” He cracked it experimentally. At the last second he dodged the black leather strings of the cat o’ nine tails as they flashed back towards him. “Oops. Then again, this isn’t the proper type of whip for playing like that.” Sai could detect eye-rolling from Naruto which was ignored in favor of trying out his new toy again, this time on their subject. Somehow the man was still alive. Time existed outside of this room: Sai had felt it passing only vaguely, and understood that his teacher’s willpower was great to keep him still animated after so much.


Once proud, strong, and commanding, Orochimaru hung now from the ceiling by his arms; his numb feet were useless to relieve the pressure on his deadened wrists. To move his legs at all aggravated the pain of his torn open anus. His hole dripped blood slowly and just enough oxygen traveled his brain to keep him not only alive but also conscious. Spasms traversed his body, starting with a twitching of the arms into a gagging motion from the organ slipping too far in his mouth and then his chest would heave and the movement twisted his torso and increased the pain in groin, to where feeling had returned to the place his dick should be and his insides to where sharp objects shouldn’t be.


Orochimaru was waiting to die; the inevitability smacked him in the head the moment the guards tied him to the ceiling. Every prayer to any deity he could think of ran through his mind, and stifled supplications to his captors for The End rumbled in his throat.


Sharp! Biting! Each smack of pain from each of the nine tails held the same pain a being stabbed with a thousand knives cutting his flesh at the same time and in the same place. The conscious mind persisted in its argument that this was cruel and unusual punishment, but his subconscious acknowledged the justice attained by his suffering. Paralysis from sensory overload and overwhelming pain overtook him, and golden eyes alone were left to his control.


The first strike was more pleasant than Sai imagined in his most creative dreams (admittedly, that isn’t much). The world moved in slow motion as Sai brought the whip across in another slashing strike; he could feel each tail sink into Orochimaru’s chest streaking pale flesh liberally with blood. Chunks of skin flew off their host with the backswing and blood splattered onto Sai’s face and clothing. He didn’t notice, caught up in abusing the abuser. After the first few trial strikes, Sai used the whip with all his might, then faster and faster in a frantic pace hitting the body at all angles.


Since the Uchiha brothers were comfortable merely watching, and Gaara was captivated with Orochimaru’s expressions of pain, Naruto was the only one to pick up on Sai’s mood change. The blond struggled to find the appropriate word before settling on therapeutic. He was beautiful though, there was no denying it: red nearly covered Sai, Quentin Tarantino-esque but Sai looked good when bloodily grotesque.


Gradually the strokes slowed, then stopped. Sai, generally a reticent teen, glowed in satisfaction, and dropped the cat o’ nine tails on the floor and returned to his place beyond the light at Naruto’s side. He allowed the blond to wash the blood from his face and neck with a wet cloth. They shared a look, a moment, and they understood each other.


A beautifully destructive smile crept across his face and settled in his mouth, twisting the slight features into the epitome of malice.


“Jaws. Ready.” The Doberman growled and bared his teeth; he’d been ready since he smelled the soul leaving the body.


Half-gasps and whines from the corner reminded everyone that they still had the other victim, though after watching the desecration— the sight of his lover mangled, mutilated, broken, dead, and chewed on by a dog— his mind emptied itself. Consciousness ran away with no intent to return.


“Jaws. Eat.” The dog launched itself at Orochimaru’s body and tore off chunks to chew on, looking as gleeful eating as his master did watching him eat.


And that was the end of it.

88*88

or is it? When I think about it there are quite a few things I didn't cover like what Orochimaru/Kabuto actually did to the younger boys and I was purposely vague in places and there's stuff I could write about what happens after like healing and moving on and stuff if I get bored with everything else. Thank you for reading!