The Stage's Avenger

A/N: Sorry about the delay. Like I said, F-U takes priority, and I had some shit to work out with that. But so many people have been crying over this fic, that I can’t simply let it die, especially before I’m willing to let it go.

Lemon: Yes.
Pairings: ?Sas? (If I told you, it would ruin the surprise—BELIEVE IT)
Notes: Itachi = weasel. Tachi = group. –san = Mr./Ms. Tachi-san = (Mr. Social?). Nippon = what Japanese call Japan, rather the spirit of Japan that lives within them. The video game company ‘Nippon-Ichi’ literally means ‘Japan’s #1’. ‘Urusai’ is a harsh way of saying ‘shut up’, and ‘ttebayo is part of Naruto’s typical ‘pay attention to me’ finisher.

“Engrish” makes fun of the fact that the Japanese have no ‘L’ in their written language, and often substitute it with R (Kuraudo) or D (Rok Dee). –To expand on that, they also have no V, and substitute that with B (Barentine).

Disclaimer: I do not own Itachi’s too-comfortable chair. Damn I wish I did. I wish I was his chair.

The Stage’s Avenger
by Peaches

Chapter Five

Hearing the confession made him smile a little. Just a little, masking it with kissing a lightly muscled chest that bore a restless heartbeat below it and urging it to calm under his voice. “So…” A contradicting thing with how his thigh and hip worked in unison to make a puppet of his little brother’s system.

How little it took to urge such noises from him, fussed and confined the same as the heat his angles worked against. A contradicting thing with how his hand soothed at the flat of a sticky belly as he carried on with dragging the flat of his tongue on circles of flesh trapped in his kisses.

“Tell me what you saw.”

An startled flutter of lashes settled on him, Itachi resting his chin on the smaller chest to watch him with a commanding pair of funeral orchid eyes.

”W…which time..?”

The cd wasn’t bad, actually… It was the debut album, and it had was on the fourth repeat before he could fairly conclude that. Sitting in a too comfortable chair, Itachi stared at the picture on the lyric cover, content with that enough to not even look inside.

Perhaps he was being biased. He didn’t think there was anything his little brother could do badly. Speakers had been turned up so that he could listen to it while he showered and rid himself of dried cum.

Kisame was already suspicious of the fact that Itachi never spontaneously bought anything. So why he had picked to visit the music store on their way back was a mystery. No doubt by now the leader already knew about it.

He didn’t care. He was too hot to care. This voice was intoxicating and he could feel it torturing him deliciously and mercilessly.

There was no hot water left, and he had been forced to reach orgasm at the pace his brother’s musical groans and melodic sighs demanded not once, but twice more before his hand ached and trembled too much to take it on again.

For the last while he had been marinating in wonderful unsatisfaction, naked and left to dry in his too comfortable chair as he pictured this new, matured face his brother had behind closed lids. Not that much more mature; for his age, Sasuke had looked like he was almost done growing, much too fast thanks to his older brother’s demands.

Itachi was too angry and too aroused to make the effort of turning the stereo off, much less turn it down. The louder the better. His brother’s voice resonating in his ears and pitching in a rhythm he commanded, not made in ecstatic surprise at control being stolen from him and made little more than a tool of his brother’s wanting.

The tables had reversed completely. Now Itachi had no means to satisfy himself. Old tapes of his exploits were made useless against the new side his little brother had developed and presented to him. Now his little brother was sixteen, and something that Itachi was afraid to find himself admitting he wanted to worship with pain. An idol he wanted to pay tribute to with every wrong kind of thing his imagination could work.

In this organization, he had seen plenty to inspire him. Heard of much more too graphic to draw inspiration from so much as simply copy.

Deidara had honestly thought he was sneaking up on the younger man. Knocking had gone ignored, and now he had crept up behind that chair in the middle of the room to creep over the back. Only to end up staring down at a face that had been expecting him. The little blond hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and his dick jumped at the sight.

Long legs were lazy and shaped with hidden power that he had personally experienced on his ribcage. There they were exposed and on the oversized footrest, leading up to an erection cast tall, and a fountain of pre-cum that must have been collecting for some time to leave a glistening pool in his hairs and on the lowest flat of his belly.

Painted nails dug in to the cushion of the backing as he forced himself to look away, his predatory amber eye gleaming with pure mischief and quite unafraid of the man that took no shame in being stared it. Deidara was convinced this man knew no shame.

“Mm~! Is that for me?” he teased quietly, almost lost in the thunder of the drums and the wail of guitars. He dared not inch closer though, because as much as he knew moving to chase him in such a predicament would be next to impossible, he was also quite convinced this guy knew how to make it possible.

Besides, Itachi had two good hands available that rested on the arms of the chair, but were not out of range of the blond’s neck.

“The boss is kinda worried about you, yeah…” Devilishly his tongue peeked out to dent the corner of his mouth and chortle.

There was no response from livid, far-away eyes. They said that the only reason he was still alive was because Itachi was much too concerned with more important things.

“Said he was gonna have a talk with you, yeah. Your second screw-up in as many months.” The azure disk traveled back to pearl liquid that didn’t ripple in the other’s so-steady breathing. No shame at all. “I should tell him you’re busy, mm..?”

Still no response. Deidara stiffened, gold bangs rustling on his face as he huffed. This was not a man to take things personally with.

That erection wasn’t for him.

That hatred wasn’t for him, either.

“Mm, fine. Sit here and sulk. Ass.” Hoisting himself from the back of the chair he took his leave.

Itachi drummed his fingers to the beat, lids heavy and voice thick with disregard for his peers. “Going to cry to your little puppet, now?”

Taboo!! Nails dug in to the door as he glared to that horrible boy there on the chair. Forcing a smirk and a bemused tone. “Jealous mm? The object of my affection is right down the hall. Seems like… yours is trapped in the stereo, yeah?”

“Out.” He made no effort to be civil.

This boy in the ranks of men was a specialist of tortures, of breaking people’s minds. But he could break their bodies, too. He had a dick that could ruin someone, for the better or the worse. Truly, he never wanted to be a victim of it, lest Sasori never forgive him taking up a new obsession. While Deidara would mind that he had never seen the youth with a woman, there was no doubting he had been with another before.

Their leader made frequent reminder of that with all of his visiting. Reminded entirely of why he came here, a big blue ball of vision winked shut happily. “Is it really worth drawing this much attention to yourself, Tachi-san?”

A double play on his name. In one way, it meant he was a group in himself – the sole survivor of his own disaster – and in the other way, to mock his age they never gave him the respect of using his full name.

No answer, save painted nails forcing a groan from the armrest of the leather chair.

What a wicked, delightful boy. He pressed his cheek in to the door. “I should tell him you’re all nice and worked up, mm? Waiting for him. Yeah…”

If he gave in to his temper right now, he would receive a league of shit from his associates. Scalping that blond bastard was high on his list of priorities. His other hand breezed the control panel on the arm rest.

The volume climbed higher, and Deidara took that as his sign to leave. He had… things to look up, anyway.

Research. Mm!

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Not interested.”

“Sasuke-kun, please understand, that part of your role of being the lead of the Five Sounds is that: when they have fun, you should be having fun too. It’s part of your image.” Kabuto adjusted his glasses after a small huff.

Such a stubborn boy. The others had left for the club already to celebrate making it in to the top twenty, and here the one that had gotten them there would be nowhere in sight. They had been arguing for the last hour. –Really, Kabuto had been knocking, and pleading loudly through the hotel door, until he let himself in with his own keycard.

His gesture had only infuriated the teen with proving he had no privacy, and had thusly locked himself in the bathroom.

It was as if he was trying to not be seen at all, which conflicted heavily with their efforts to publicize him.

His fist impacted the door a few times. “Sasuke-kun!”

Water started running. “I don’t do clubs. Go away.”

“If it’s about your age, I assure you—“

“Go. Away.”

An exaggerated sigh. “Is it because you can’t dance?”

In the short weeks he had been around this boy, he was startled to find that in the years the two brothers had been apart, they had both developed disturbing similarities.

One of them being that they reacted violently when one bruised their ego enough. And while Itachi would sooner leave the fear to manifest itself in his neglect, his younger brother would often spare a person that and terrorize them for due payment rather immediately. In that respect, Sasuke had a bit more compassion.

Just a bit.

Although, to react to this, Sasuke would have to come out of his room.

Having anticipated that, Orochimaru had already arranged the entertainment. If their precious voice of anger and vengeance would not bring himself to live the nightlife – the snake tamer would just have to bring the nightlife to him and perform some emergency CPR.

Water ceased to run and steam began to lap at the black polish of his shoes. Heaving a sigh he pulled away from the door and lead himself out, freeing his cellphone.

One button later, tones were ringing in his ear.

On the other side a voice serrated by cigarette smoke picked up. “I told you not to call me at work.”

A coy smile dotted his lips, reaching up to adjust his glasses. The main door almost clicked shut behind him before he went down the main hallway of the hotel floor. “A good thing I caught you then. It’s business this time.”

Curious now, he exhaled. “That right…? What’s the profile then?”

“A cold fish. Won’t admit he needs a good time.”

There was a long pause. “…The last time I gave you one for something like that, I lost a damn good product. You didn’t warn me he was the cutting type.”

“Would you have sent him over if I had?”

“Tch.” Beeps on the other side of the line. “I’m not taking any chances this time. Play your fucked up little game… Got just the two that can play back.”

Kabuto swelled with amusement when he stepped in to the elevator. “Two? And here you don’t like trusting me with just one.”

“Security, dickhead. Where should they go?”

His casual tone when he gave the address didn’t arouse suspicion in the drunken, giddy pair that stumbled on to the lift a few floors down. But he did hush himself when he heard the low whistle on the other side.

“The door’s open and they’re welcome to help themselves to the mini-bar. His name is Sasuke.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Damn that felt better. A hot bath with some peace at last. Kabuto must have given up coaxing him, because the pounding on the door stopped.

It was such a lavish lifestyle, now. Sasuke had not yet been able to get an address to Kiba because, every week, he ended up in a new, random hotel of four stars or more. The surprise and dazzle of it all had worn off almost a month after the album hit the shelves.

Not quite the most famous of them, he had certainly landed in the entertainment industry with a splash. That snake of a man delighted in informing him of people wanting to use the music for their little projects–many of them titled in such ways that made Sasuke gape, then shudder.

When he wasn’t in the studio, or dragged along for a shopping trip—quite the number of them, his producer never quite satisfied with the entirety of his wardrobe—he was in his room. Passing his time quietly and leisurely, up to his neck in water that was deliriously hot and put him in a new suit of ripe, abused pink that began to wrinkle. A hot bath exhausted him from his thoughts, wherever they lead.

”The time that makes you rub yourself to sleep each night.”

There was no use hiding it from his brother. Cheeks flooded with red with humility, that he should have known better than to think Itachi couldn’t hear him in the room across the hall.

More, that Itachi did hear him, and had said nothing about it. Just like Sasuke had said nothing whenever he watched the two of them at their endeavors. Fever grew so high in his face he felt cold all over to think about it. Pitch eyes rolled to the ceiling with a small noise as large hands kept his body still in the sheets sticking to his back, far away beyond the protective sheet of frozen sweat on him.

He wanted to hear it. Not just the noise, and the smell of sex growing old in the air. Not just for the sake of their parents; they had become trivial now, a room and vent away from his agenda.

Posterity was at stake, tape rolling by behind the pillows. He had to hear what made his brother want him. What had made him agree to all of this. Years of conditioning his brother’s affection hinged on a single why. To simply have it was not enough.

Not if he was going to live on that from now on.

Fumbling to collect his thoughts, he took in a deep breath. “There was this… one time, I saw you… g-giving him a…” A pinning stare from his hips cutting him off.

Itachi remembered his exploits vividly.

But, did Sasuke?

“Did you know that’s what it was, back then?”

Growing sheepish, he wanted to hide away in the mattress and yet, didn’t want to escape the soothing rub of fingers at the dents of bones along his torso.

“…No.”

Recalling it must have flipped something in his brother, dark eyes falling to appraise the waking firmness brushing his chin. “What did it look like, then?”

“I don’t know!” The interrogation was making him edgy, especially with the hungry way those eyes glowed. Looking away would be worse, swallowing the lump in his throat to bear keeping his gaze fixed on the plains of muscles adorning his ebon-swept back.

His darling brother wasn’t getting off, in any sense, that easily. Petting the scattered curls of hair below the flat belly his gaze returned to the frightened pair of doeful eyes on him.

”Then use your imagination. Tell me what you think I did?”

Lashes peeled back from coal disks at the sound of… was that… giggling, beyond his door? Attention centered in that direction when he surfaced from the water to listen more closely, only to float back an inch at the thud of weight in to the wood.

“WAAGH! You bitch! Not so hard…! Ohhn…”

…Unless Tayuya had gotten unbelievably huskier in the last few days, that had to be a stranger in his suite.

A stranger with another stranger doing something hard to the—

Another thump jostled the lock, tongue of the ornate handle rattling with on-cue commentary of, “Dammit! That was the door-fuckin’-handle,” fading off in to irritated grumbles.

Had the water been moving just then, and not when Sasuke had crept to the edge of the tub he would not have heard the second body that didn’t sound too concerned with the matter.

“Stop complaining or I’ll gag you.”

“You’d gag me anyway, fucker.”

…Why the threatening derision made his balls jump, he didn’t want to know. With all the stealth he could muster, energy sapped by the heat of the tub he made his way to the robe and towels. Difficult, with wanting to leap out of his skin at every impact on his barricade

The second voice was so calm and precise. “Open the door. He’s most likely in there.”

“It’s locked.” Not like the first voice, so firm and just… loud. Annoying, even. For effect the handle was toggled. “See? Locked. Believe it! Asshole.”

Again with the handling and the rattle. “…Hn. So it is.”

“Oh my gawd. What part of BELIEVE IT don’t you understand!”

Such a one-sided argument died when they heard the lock shift, and Sasuke froze in the middle of producing an unforgiving glower on them when a pair of mint green eyes rounded to his vision. …Shortly before collapsing under the shrieking weight that had crashed in to him, having relied so heavily on the door that flew out of his grasp. Curses from the new pile arose, and Sasuke could barely sit up on his elbows without pain shooting up his back.

Stars faded from the corners of his eyes, and now he could make out… a tuft of dandelion hair shoved under his nose. The same flash of it he’d seen before the fall. It smelled like lemongrass and apple spice, this close to his nose.

…He’d forgotten someone could smell so good when they weren’t his brother, and it cleared his head enough to take in other details without complaint. Grumbling over him was a tanned young man, not any older than him and with how loud the orange knit was over the heavy sinews of his frame, this had to be the vulgar one.

….With the brightest pair of blue eyes he’d ever had the horror of meeting.

“Coulda given me a damn warning.” The button of his nose scrunched to match his grouse.

…Definitely this one. Denim brushed his thigh as the blond went to untangle himself, looming on hands and knees to flash ivory keys in a smile.

“Yer cute for a squinty-eyed guy.”

Sasuke was struck dumb to realize they had been speaking in English this entire time. Ears had acclimated to the language with all of his rigorous schooling and a very fluent, perfect teacher always willing to pop quiz him. It helped when half of their family spoke the language to cooperate with international infliction of the law.

“Naruto.” Behind them, that stern voice again. “Don’t make fun of a client. Even when they can’t understand you.”

Sasuke jerked his head around a thick shoulder contained in loose threading. “I can understand you just fine,” he muttered low.

Sitting up on his knees, he fisted the low ride of his jeans. “…Wow, his Engrish is cute, too.”

Able to get a better look the Uchiha had not yet pulled his eyes from the one in the doorway. Under a shock of rusty hair sat a face pale as his own and rigid with his instruction. The studded leather on his neck was deceiving to their situation. As was the fishnet over a black sleeveless tee that concealed dense muscle holding on to a tiny frame, clearly seen in the slope of his shoulders with the bangled arms folded over his chest.

There was no mistaking the possessive glow in those minty eyes trapped in too much liner with a tattoo of red kanji above the left socket.

The eyes that a man had when he had what he wanted – what he needed, and refused to share it with anyone. Would kill anyone that kept him from being close to that.

Seeing the likes of that again made him ache. All those years that had gone by with the same sheen in his brother’s eyes, gone unrecognized but not unappreciated…

At the same time such a menacing look made him worry, because currently…

…he was the one in the way.

It took him a while, but as the moisture began to cling he noticed…

….Such an intimidating figure wasn’t lessened by the shameless pair of plastic, maroon hotpants. A vertical smile of silver teeth had a pullring over the shape of his dick that glittered obviously in the jut of sturdy hips. Straps and buckles down his thighs holding gaudy plastic leg sleeves escaped him when he was blinded by bright blue eyes and a searing white now in his nose.

“—Oh, sorry. You okay, Sasuke?”

Coals flashed on the offensive, blinking away tears over the hand clutching his bashed nose. Before he could attack, he felt the lunge of glaring from the doorway. Considering, he changed his tone to little more than being affronted.

“That was my nose, dumbass.”

Ears heated, annoyance sparking in crystalline disks. “Don’t talk to me like that, asshole. I was asking if you were okay! I said I was sorry!”

He didn’t think twice about sending his knuckles in to a fluffy cotton shoulder and ripping him off the last elbow attached to the tiles.

“Client,” chided the menace in the doorway.

“I don’t care. No one’s allowed to talk to me like that.”

Sasuke could see them now, the contrast-tan of whiskers on gold cheeks, a very peculiar distinction for himself besides the naturally light hair.

It kind of made him wonder if the guy distinguished himself anywhere else.

“Hey! Wipe that smug look of your face!”

Said look only grew, and incensed the rowdy teen. “Why should I? I should call the police.”

Eyes turned wide when Sasuke gripped in to the thin weaving, matching the one in his robe. While he could remember what it was like to have one’s legs spread over the wonderful seat of someone’s thighs, he had a sudden clarity to how much a person could enjoy being saddled. Even more when rugged material struggled against him, until it seemed as though Naruto caught wise that felt like retreat and ground his hips down.

Another shake of white shoulder in the glove of a fingerless fist. “We were invited asshole.” It was his turn to grin at the way the Uchiha’s face soured. “Yer boss knows our boss, and our boss could kick yer boss’s ass if anything happens to us. –Not that it will, cause I’ll fuck you up before you try.”

“We’re being paid to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

At last the redhead moved, approaching the pair of them on the floor. Arms didn’t move from his chest and frigid eyes didn’t stray when he was hissed at by his partner.

“Shut up! You’re ruinin’ the atmosphere! Go be freaky over there or… sumthin’.”

Trained to recognize slang, such a lazy tongue still hurt his brain to decipher. As if some of the numbing might be spared his tongue shifted gears much to the surprise of the blond that spun his head around to him.

“Do you… speak Nippon?”

It was the other guy that responded in kind. “He’s oblivious.”

“Urusai ‘ttebayo!” Both of them blinked at the harsh exhale from the one between them. “Don’t do that shit when I’m around.”

“…He doesn’t understand a word,” spoke the shortest of them smoothly. Gaze not straying from the angry pair of blue disks, he continued without a single beat lost. …In Japanese. “That’s the only thing he knows. …Besides how to ask for more ramen.”

“Hn.” He pretended to pay attention, more taken by the way whiskers glowed through the furious blush and the ticking of a frown. Naruto was still too absorbed in his partner to give his stare back to Sasuke when the mutual language sprang up. “So… I guess you two are supposed to be my ‘entertainment’ tonight?”

Naruto huffed with mild amusement. “You could say that.” Visage meeting his again, he cracked a grin. “…Or you could say we’re here to fuck ya.”

A scoff. “Not interested.”

“Don’t matter, Saucegay.”

Eyes narrowed with a venomous tint at the distortion of his name. “Not. Interested. You can go.”

“I guess Kabuto was right about him being frigid.”

It was the blond’s turn to laugh at his perplexed expression. “Ye-hah. He ain’t fightin’ that hard for a guy that don’t want it, though.”

Sasuke didn’t speak against that and only turned a glare on the one that countered his evenly. They both knew why he had yet to rattle the idiot in his lap by the grip of fabric he had not yet let go of.

“Bein’ such a good sport about it, actually.” He snickered at the way the other’s expression withered from the coarse grinding down on his semi. “Awwa~. He likes it.”

But damn if he wasn’t trying to do otherwise knowing full well icy jades wanted to look upon his insides laid out over the floor.

Maybe leave him butchered and gurgling on a last hopeless, frothy breath drawn cold on his lips with the attempt to scream out his killer’s name.

…Lashes clamped over his vision with a noise dying in his throat, blotting out the memories and scolding himself for not being made sick by them. Only grit teeth to catch his pleased grunt at the friction lost through the veil of fluffy white cotton.

“…Hey! Lookit me when I’m talking to you!” A deadened pair of onyx slivers visited him. “Don’t gimme that. I’m irresistible, so stop resisting me!”

No response made him growl. After a brief flick of his tongue on a soft cheek he sat up to shoot a look over his shoulder. An innocent look. One that said he had learned what made the seething stranger bubble over in all the right ways.

“Gaara? Muffin? Help us up huh?”

Now the stranger had a name.

. . . Muffin.

…That didn’t make him any less uneasy. In fact, knowing death’s name was no comfort at all. Hairs wet on the back of his neck raised when the redhead bent behind him and hooked the hands of black nails under his arms. They really knew how to work in unison, because Naruto didn’t take two seconds to bend off of his lap and gather his knees.

And didn’t hold back a cheesy grin when his fly brushed the naked space between his robed thighs. “If you weren’t such a prick I’d totally do you like this.”

Kicking probably should have been on his list of resistance maneuvers. It wasn’t. Not when he was sure that every single bruise he’d put on the sculpted blond would be paid back.

Not in blue and black and purple – but red, pure and simple.

It was paralyzing to be in the arms of someone that wanted you dead. His head rested against the sturdy chest behind it when the heartache returned.

In the back of his mind, while he knew his brother was gone… he was still hoping his one-time lover’s possessive habits and perfect timing would come down on this like he had wanted so many other times. That this time, he really meant it; he needed to see him, and be rescued by him, just to show these two what it was really like to have a jealous person wanting you dead. If his heart ached enough, maybe Itachi would come to his senses and spare his little brother before anything bad happened.

Oh… God. He was hopeless.

He wanted to be saved by his tormentor. After all these years of convincing himself that man was never coming back, and had wronged him for it.

It wasn’t Gaara’s glare that made him so compliant, feeling it tingle through his scalp as the blond crowed his arrival to the foot of the plush suite bed. They didn’t set him down on the squishiness and simply leave. Only Naruto loosened up, this time giving him the adequate chance of watching jeans strain on narrow hips as the blond fell to his knees.

What in the world he was snickering about escaped Sasuke right at that moment, because he didn’t want to do anything when there were still nails biting through sleeves and in to his shoulders. It was only after hands pulled him against the shapely wall of chest and torso that he noticed he was taller than his captor.

Not by much, because he had no ambition to be insolent in the hands roaming open hem and snagging the loop of rope holding it all shut. ...Enough that he could feel hardness and hips settling in to the slope of his ass when fingers slid up his neck and shoved him to bend at the waist.

“Hey there,” Naruto chirped, smiling up to him with their new proximity. It didn’t stop him from smoothing his… canvas with the rough leather pads of his gloves.

His growl was cut off by fluffy white surrounding his neck, yowling at having his arms twisted to meet the other end of it with his wrists. It was dizzying, being ripped upright again. Gaara waited until he was completely lucid to sweep away the tail of fabric and nestle himself against the new exposure. The cold contact of zipper on the round of his buttocks made him shy away right in to the snickers that puffed on his member.

“Anxious huh? Not surprised. They all come around eventually.”

Either this was standard foreplay formation for the two of them, or Naruto hadn’t bothered to look up to the redhead plunging his wet muscle in to the white canals of his ear. It was that much easier to talk to him in a hushed, deadly velvet when each syllable carried clearly to his brain.

“My gorgeous little fox down there doesn’t get attached to our clients so easily.”

If it was supposed to be a compliment, he struck the thought down with a long, wet drag of his tongue from the rugged collar to the back of his lobe. Sasuke wailed, both from having his ear bitten in to, and the first of many messy kisses on his sack, jarring him in to hips that gave him nowhere to hide.

Arms began to burn with their suspension, so when he tested his bonds panic froze in his chest. A dark chortle climbed in to his ear and followed the trail down his neck. “A precaution. So you don’t enjoy this too much.”

The threat went unheard by both of the other boys. Naruto, who was sucking on his exposed head with determined little grunts couldn’t understand a word of it; and Sasuke, too absorbed in the fact the blond didn’t understand a word of it.

There was a tug on his lifeline, keeping him upright against the hill of arousal sticking to his flank. If not for that, he would have doubled forward and ended it all prematurely.

Teeth grazed his sore ear and the tender bottom of his length from behind persistent lips. Gaara’s unbusied hand slipped through the bough of trapped limb, tweaking sharply at a nipple and coaxing a groan behind the jaw Sasuke had wired shut with willpower

“Because… if I have to taste your dirty cum on his breath when we leave… I’ll kill you.”

His hand shot up to trap an unexpected howl. Clamped around the shivering gape of the Uchiha’s mouth and squeezing in to hollowed cheeks to keep it that way, his victim couldn’t do much more than pant hotly in to his palm. A brief stare down the heaving rise of pale chest lead his vision down to his partner’s work and his cheek in to craning neck to appreciate the sight.

Gaara didn’t know whether all of the excitement was being caused from his threats and the subtle constriction of his knot, or from his blond’s determined mouth swallowing his awakened member down to the rawhide grip at his base. This was a first for him, too.

He had never known his fox to take so warmly to a stranger before. …Yes, he was friendly, and in public he was easy to coddle… This was entirely different.

A quiet moan visited the wrapped neck. His hand ceased to muffle such distressed pleasure dotting the ebon brow with sweat. It had better places to be, like at the swallow of a bony hip, painted nails dragging from there to the meat of his backside.

It had been so long since he’d been touched. This was atrocious, being swept away in a few well-placed caresses and a willing hole that was bruising his cock with such savage pulls, literally working to rip the orgasm out of him. Sasuke was barely aware of the leather hand at his hip thanks to the one on his balls, keeping him in place against how much he needed to buck.

The whisper of metal teeth had gooseflesh draw up his arms, and panicked moans died at talons sinking in to his cheek. Black glass peered out vacantly to the ceiling, guts freezing over and blood churning to a halt.

Naruto didn’t stop for anything, not even when his partner slid the breadth of his member in to the crevice and… left it there, firming Sasuke’s posterior around him without intrusion.

Making him think he would have done it was enough to make his words ring true and clear in an ear that lost the fevered color all of his partner’s efforts had been building.

“You can save yourself the displeasure of facing me,” he offered, no solace in his voice or the rocking of his hips, matching the vulgar sight and sound of flesh sliding past his lips. “…And facing this one you’re screaming for.”

There wasn’t any viable reason to be afraid. Orochimaru wouldn’t let anything happen to him, as much as he hated the man. And Itachi… Itachi, even more, wouldn’t let him be killed for—

…Maybe he would. There was already the truth that he had left. Back then, Sasuke hadn’t done anything to betray him, though. Now, with this, was there a reason for him to never be found? His brother couldn’t be everywhere, and that fact severed his passion for all of this. Knowing Itachi was letting was happen was worse than him finding out about Sasuke enjoying it.

It was all that bastard’s fault, leaving him to fend for himself…

Trusting him to be able to do so…


Eyelids pulled from hazy depths. With lacking light in the room there was little to offend his vision, but all he could see was the tapestry over the bed.

That must be where he was. …Naked and splayed out on the covers with his head in the pillows.

A fang of red hair corrected that. His head was in someone’s lap. A very noisy lap with little chains jostling when Sasuke tried to move. The hand massaging his throat didn’t let him get very far. Worried—fear growing in his stomach at not being able to remember what happened, he chanced his gaze to jadene pools soaking him in.

It wasn’t often that Sasuke was ashamed of himself, or bashful and in need of hiding, but now he wanted something to cover himself. White melted out of his ears, and distantly he could make out the sound of the shower through the open door nearby.

The redhead spoke, thoughtful and affectionate about the topic. “I’ve never met anyone else like him.” When it involved that other one, Sasuke wasn’t so surprised to hear the fondness and esteem this guy had for finding him. “He was the only guy I knew that was stupid enough to kill himself rather than have his pleasure become someone else’s.”

“…Thanks?” The word was raw in his throat, and agitated the ring of warmth he could feel all around his neck. As soothing as the gesture was, he didn’t dare close his eyes to enjoy it.

There was very little to decipher about what he must have done.

Shoulders seized and breath lodged when Gaara bent down to kiss him. Turning his head made all kinds of pain rub through his chest. More than tasting someone new and strange, someone that reminded him of everything he wanted, he could tasted the remnants of himself.

As collected and uninterested as his features were, he couldn’t help but flush when it ended. Gaara watched how the strangled ring turned white compared to the heat crawling down the thin neck.

“If I had room for someone else, I’d let you in. Stupidity’s a flattering feature, sometimes. …Commitment can be, too.”

…Was it that obvious? Maybe to someone that completely owned another, they could recognize the symptoms. Hurt flashed through his eyes, so he took them elsewhere.

“Your boss isn’t the one, is he.”

A small shake of his head, though he was sure the other could guess without him.

“Is that stage story you have the truth? …About your brother?”

This time, Sasuke didn’t give him sound nor shake.

Gaara leaned back in the mountain of pillows, combing through black satin strands for a long moment. It wasn’t long before a dripping blond surfaced in the doorway, hooking his thumb for the main entrance. Soundlessly the two exchanged a look, before the redhead slipped free of their host and toggled the ring of his shorts.

It was when he was stepping in to his boots and Naruto was trooping down the hall with pieces of orange littering the way that green depths went back to him.

“He thinks about you a great deal. …His mind’s always somewhere else whenever I’ve seen him.”

Sasuke shot up on the bed, and that dangerous glare kept him sitting rather than demanding more from the youth at the door.

“…I don’t blame him.”

With that, the door clicked shut. The ring of pressure and rash around his neck wasn’t holding down the swell in his chest. They were gone, and he might have been hollow to just let them leave like that, when one of them knew about his goals.

…But to know someone knew – and to know that that man, out there, couldn’t shrug off his past as easily as Sasuke had spent so long thinking…

…It was almost worth the blood-curdling horror trapped in his sweet mother’s face, and the gory exposure of lungs from a burly ribcage that had been his impressive father.