The Trick Is Not Minding
folder
Naruto › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
36
Views:
1,526
Reviews:
131
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Naruto › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
36
Views:
1,526
Reviews:
131
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
The following story is a work of fan fiction. The author does not own Naruto or its characters and is not making any money off of this work. Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto-sama. I do, however own my original character Kuroshin Aoshi.
Chapter twenty
A/N over 5000 hits, I'm so happy. This story has suddenly gone in an unexpected direction (the lovely achillona over at lj put a bug in my ear and it wouldn't go away) so, it's not almost done after all (sorry) but I promise to keep updating regularly. Thanks for reading.
Chapter Twenty
Takeda Shunpei was arguing with himself. In fact, the medic had been having this same internal argument all day now and he was starting to get a little fed up. He knew if he was smart he’d just let it go, but a small part of his brain kept whispering, think of the possibilities.
He huffed and turned back to his work. That’s what started this, his traitorous mind supplied, unwilling to let him actually concentrate on the task at hand. Well, he guessed Kuroshin Aoshi started it, mind drifting back to the unusual gathering he had participated in the previous week. He had been startled when he’d been invited to join the group leaving headquarters. Come on Takeda, it’ll be hot, they’d urged him, loosen up, you need it. He figured they were going to a strip club and tagged along. When they headed into a residential area he was surprised, maybe they hired a stripper . . . or a prostitute, getting half hard at the thought and realizing how long it had been since he’d been laid. This was getting better and better. They finally arrived at a run down apartment block and climbed the stairs to the upper floor. Then Aoshi opened the door and he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight that greeted his eyes.
The long pale form hung, hooded head bent into the wall in an attempt to keep his shoulders from dislocating, the only sign of life the tremors that ran across his skin. But what captivated the medic, what drew him forward and right up to the man, were the thousands of scars covering every inch of exposed skin. How beautiful, he thought, his duty at T&I allowing him to easily recognize the many different implements used to create this erotic living tapestry. Then his eyes caught the centerpiece, bold kanji branded into the saddle of his hips, property of Kuroshin Aoshi. He boldly reached out a hand and ran it over the raised mark, appreciating its texture, reading it like a blind man reads braille.
“An afficionado, I see.” a mirth filled voice roused him from his contemplation. “You’re my kind of man Takeda.” he said as he clapped the smaller medic on the back. “I take it you like my bitch then.”
“He is magnificent, I’ve never seen such beautiful work.” Shunpei practically sighed, his hand reaching out, yet again, to caress the raised mark of ownership. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long did you keep the iron on for this, it’s so clear and, yet, so bold. I’m very impressed.”
“Five minutes,” Aoshi stated, then his voice dropped slightly as he continued, “but he screamed for an hour. He was immobilized though, I wanted to make sure it turned out well.” he finished with a husky chuckle.
“He wears it so well, dignity in humiliation, very inspiring.” The medic concluded, “You have every reason to be proud.”
“Well, I’m not very proud at the moment. It seems my bitch has been begging other people to touch him. I caught him, with a teacher no less, panting like a bitch in heat. So I decided to bring him to heel, he can get what he wants right here, see, I just brought him all the touching he’ll ever need, and from real men who know how to handle a willful wayward slut.” the ANBU’s face twisted into a scowl, then brightened. “How would you like to go first, since you’re so intrigued.”
“I would be honored.” Takeda bowed to his host and fully turned to face the breathtaking specimen before him. He quickly dropped his pants, then stopped to run his hands over the broad scarred back, drinking in the tapestry of pain etched into the pale skin, his cock hardening impossibly as he pictured how they were inflicted. He ghosted over the brand yet again, lingering for a moment before dropping to the muscular ass, roughly spreading the cheeks, then dropping to his knees to quickly swipe his tongue over the exposed pucker, gauging the reaction. “Ohh, responsive.” he said when the bound man moaned, and he stood and quickly slammed into the unprepared entrance, burying himself to the hilt.
It was the best ride of my life, he sighed as he remembered, but I knew it was a one time thing . . . but now. And therein lay his quandary. Just 24 short hours ago he’d been summoned to Ibiki’s office to treat none other than Hatake Kakashi. He’d been suspicious when he saw the words carved into his chest and had surreptitiously checked his lower back, pretending to look for more injuries. His suspicions were confirmed when he found the distinctive brand he’d so admired. Once he’d realized he made sure to leave the scars when he healed the copy-nin, wanting to see them added to the living tapestry he had so appreciated only a few nights before.
And now Aoshi’s dead . . . which means my all time favorite fuck toy is available . . . but he’s a lot stronger than me . . . he must have wanted it, the medic tried to convince himself, he probably misses it, after all he didn’t bring himself to Ibiki. Shunpei considered that point for just a moment, it was that teacher, what was his name . . . Umino. I always thought he was Ibiki’s bitch, he pondered, then thought about the way the two had interacted. No, he decided.
He remembered Aoshi saying it was a teacher that had touched what was his, now it makes sense, he wants the bitch for himself. Well, I shouldn’t have any problem taking him away from a chuunin school teacher, he thought to himself, maybe make them a package deal. That left two problems . . . and they were doozies. He had no idea where they were, and he had no idea if the copy-nin would accept his advances. The first was tricky, he’d gone to the chuunin’s house expecting them to be there, but it was empty. The only person who might know was Ibiki, but he didn’t dare ask outright, he’d have to figure out some other way to get the information.
The second problem though, that one was the reason he found himself going round and round, struggling to make the right choice, because if he chose wrong then the copy-nin could easily annihilate him. Well, he thought, I don’t really have to decide until I find them, then I’ll make up my mind. Course set he gave up on the idea of finishing any of his backed up paperwork, deciding, instead, to go see if he could gather any information on the whereabouts of the pair he was seeking.
He decided the popular bar down the street was a good place to start, lots of the jounin hung out there when they were off duty. He wandered inside and quickly checked out the patrons. Jackpot, he congratulated himself when he spotted Shiranui Genma leaning against the bar, the biggest gossip whore in town, if anyone knows where they are he does.
He sidled up to the tokubetsu jounin and ordered a beer. “Say Genma”, he began, “you know everything there is to know around this town. What can you tell me about Umino Iruka? I’ve been looking for him everywhere and I can’t seem to find him.”
Genma had had a few beers . . . quite a few beers, already and Shunpei was anxiously watching the senbon he was using as punctuation, trying to avoid its path. “Of course you can’t find him.” the senbon sucker wailed, “no one can find him anymore, he’s always off with him.” he hissed the last word out viciously.
“Him who?” the medic tentatively inquired, wary of another round of senbon dodging. Sure enough, the tokubetsu jounin practically exploded at the question.
“The fucking copy-nin that’s who. Hatake my-shit-don’t-smell fucking Kakashi, with his sharingan and his 1000 fucking jutsu, thinks he’s so much better than the rest of us.”
Genma trailed off and took a huge drink of beer, staring moodily into the glass.
“But where are they?” the medic asked, “I really need to see him.”
“If they’re not at Iruka’s house they’re probably at Hatake’s, wherever the hell that is.” Genma muttered.
Well, it’s a start, the medic decided, and he said good night and headed off to see what else he could find out, leaving Genma alone to grumble in his beer about the unfairness of it all.
Moonlight shone across the steaming hot spring, through the open shoji and streamed across the bed, painting the entwined figures in a subtle glow. The pair slept, exhausted after their most recent climaxes. For the moment they felt safe and at peace with each other, and they dozed in peaceful contentment, unaware of the storm that was brewing.
Chapter Twenty
Takeda Shunpei was arguing with himself. In fact, the medic had been having this same internal argument all day now and he was starting to get a little fed up. He knew if he was smart he’d just let it go, but a small part of his brain kept whispering, think of the possibilities.
He huffed and turned back to his work. That’s what started this, his traitorous mind supplied, unwilling to let him actually concentrate on the task at hand. Well, he guessed Kuroshin Aoshi started it, mind drifting back to the unusual gathering he had participated in the previous week. He had been startled when he’d been invited to join the group leaving headquarters. Come on Takeda, it’ll be hot, they’d urged him, loosen up, you need it. He figured they were going to a strip club and tagged along. When they headed into a residential area he was surprised, maybe they hired a stripper . . . or a prostitute, getting half hard at the thought and realizing how long it had been since he’d been laid. This was getting better and better. They finally arrived at a run down apartment block and climbed the stairs to the upper floor. Then Aoshi opened the door and he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight that greeted his eyes.
The long pale form hung, hooded head bent into the wall in an attempt to keep his shoulders from dislocating, the only sign of life the tremors that ran across his skin. But what captivated the medic, what drew him forward and right up to the man, were the thousands of scars covering every inch of exposed skin. How beautiful, he thought, his duty at T&I allowing him to easily recognize the many different implements used to create this erotic living tapestry. Then his eyes caught the centerpiece, bold kanji branded into the saddle of his hips, property of Kuroshin Aoshi. He boldly reached out a hand and ran it over the raised mark, appreciating its texture, reading it like a blind man reads braille.
“An afficionado, I see.” a mirth filled voice roused him from his contemplation. “You’re my kind of man Takeda.” he said as he clapped the smaller medic on the back. “I take it you like my bitch then.”
“He is magnificent, I’ve never seen such beautiful work.” Shunpei practically sighed, his hand reaching out, yet again, to caress the raised mark of ownership. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long did you keep the iron on for this, it’s so clear and, yet, so bold. I’m very impressed.”
“Five minutes,” Aoshi stated, then his voice dropped slightly as he continued, “but he screamed for an hour. He was immobilized though, I wanted to make sure it turned out well.” he finished with a husky chuckle.
“He wears it so well, dignity in humiliation, very inspiring.” The medic concluded, “You have every reason to be proud.”
“Well, I’m not very proud at the moment. It seems my bitch has been begging other people to touch him. I caught him, with a teacher no less, panting like a bitch in heat. So I decided to bring him to heel, he can get what he wants right here, see, I just brought him all the touching he’ll ever need, and from real men who know how to handle a willful wayward slut.” the ANBU’s face twisted into a scowl, then brightened. “How would you like to go first, since you’re so intrigued.”
“I would be honored.” Takeda bowed to his host and fully turned to face the breathtaking specimen before him. He quickly dropped his pants, then stopped to run his hands over the broad scarred back, drinking in the tapestry of pain etched into the pale skin, his cock hardening impossibly as he pictured how they were inflicted. He ghosted over the brand yet again, lingering for a moment before dropping to the muscular ass, roughly spreading the cheeks, then dropping to his knees to quickly swipe his tongue over the exposed pucker, gauging the reaction. “Ohh, responsive.” he said when the bound man moaned, and he stood and quickly slammed into the unprepared entrance, burying himself to the hilt.
It was the best ride of my life, he sighed as he remembered, but I knew it was a one time thing . . . but now. And therein lay his quandary. Just 24 short hours ago he’d been summoned to Ibiki’s office to treat none other than Hatake Kakashi. He’d been suspicious when he saw the words carved into his chest and had surreptitiously checked his lower back, pretending to look for more injuries. His suspicions were confirmed when he found the distinctive brand he’d so admired. Once he’d realized he made sure to leave the scars when he healed the copy-nin, wanting to see them added to the living tapestry he had so appreciated only a few nights before.
And now Aoshi’s dead . . . which means my all time favorite fuck toy is available . . . but he’s a lot stronger than me . . . he must have wanted it, the medic tried to convince himself, he probably misses it, after all he didn’t bring himself to Ibiki. Shunpei considered that point for just a moment, it was that teacher, what was his name . . . Umino. I always thought he was Ibiki’s bitch, he pondered, then thought about the way the two had interacted. No, he decided.
He remembered Aoshi saying it was a teacher that had touched what was his, now it makes sense, he wants the bitch for himself. Well, I shouldn’t have any problem taking him away from a chuunin school teacher, he thought to himself, maybe make them a package deal. That left two problems . . . and they were doozies. He had no idea where they were, and he had no idea if the copy-nin would accept his advances. The first was tricky, he’d gone to the chuunin’s house expecting them to be there, but it was empty. The only person who might know was Ibiki, but he didn’t dare ask outright, he’d have to figure out some other way to get the information.
The second problem though, that one was the reason he found himself going round and round, struggling to make the right choice, because if he chose wrong then the copy-nin could easily annihilate him. Well, he thought, I don’t really have to decide until I find them, then I’ll make up my mind. Course set he gave up on the idea of finishing any of his backed up paperwork, deciding, instead, to go see if he could gather any information on the whereabouts of the pair he was seeking.
He decided the popular bar down the street was a good place to start, lots of the jounin hung out there when they were off duty. He wandered inside and quickly checked out the patrons. Jackpot, he congratulated himself when he spotted Shiranui Genma leaning against the bar, the biggest gossip whore in town, if anyone knows where they are he does.
He sidled up to the tokubetsu jounin and ordered a beer. “Say Genma”, he began, “you know everything there is to know around this town. What can you tell me about Umino Iruka? I’ve been looking for him everywhere and I can’t seem to find him.”
Genma had had a few beers . . . quite a few beers, already and Shunpei was anxiously watching the senbon he was using as punctuation, trying to avoid its path. “Of course you can’t find him.” the senbon sucker wailed, “no one can find him anymore, he’s always off with him.” he hissed the last word out viciously.
“Him who?” the medic tentatively inquired, wary of another round of senbon dodging. Sure enough, the tokubetsu jounin practically exploded at the question.
“The fucking copy-nin that’s who. Hatake my-shit-don’t-smell fucking Kakashi, with his sharingan and his 1000 fucking jutsu, thinks he’s so much better than the rest of us.”
Genma trailed off and took a huge drink of beer, staring moodily into the glass.
“But where are they?” the medic asked, “I really need to see him.”
“If they’re not at Iruka’s house they’re probably at Hatake’s, wherever the hell that is.” Genma muttered.
Well, it’s a start, the medic decided, and he said good night and headed off to see what else he could find out, leaving Genma alone to grumble in his beer about the unfairness of it all.
Moonlight shone across the steaming hot spring, through the open shoji and streamed across the bed, painting the entwined figures in a subtle glow. The pair slept, exhausted after their most recent climaxes. For the moment they felt safe and at peace with each other, and they dozed in peaceful contentment, unaware of the storm that was brewing.