Izumo's Problem

IV.

Izumo registered Kotetsu leaving—sort of. But Kurohyou pulled out a chair and pushed him into it, and then showed him an empty mug. Izumo looked at it and blinked a bit, before saying, “Oh, ah, coffee, please. But can’t I make you something?”

A little growl indicated the answer to that was no, and Izumo sighed and started eating his eggs. But the more he ate, the hungrier he realized he was. His lover served him coffee and went into the bathroom, careful to leave both the bedroom and bathroom doors open, reassuring Izumo he wasn’t going anywhere. When he came out of the bathroom, his shirt was off again, and Izumo slopped coffee on his neck covering and forgot about his breakfast again. It wasn’t until Kurohyou had finished making himself a traditional breakfast of rice and miso soup and sat at the table, that Izumo remember to eat. Like last night, the meal became a sort of erotic game, where they fed each other and watched each chew, gulp, and swallow. But when all the food was gone, Kurohyou pointed at the dishes and then the sink, indicating Izumo should clean up.

Izumo was in a state where doing anything for his lover was erotic, even clearing the table. But just as his hand was on the faucet, about to fill the sink, Kurohyou said, “Strip.”

The chuunin jerked his clothes off so fast, one button tore off the shirt. Somehow once he was naked, what felt right was to kneel down in front of his lover on the floor. But as he started to lower himself, Kurohyou’s head shook no, and he pointed back to the sink. Sighing, Izumo went over and began to wash the dishes. But he’d only cleaned one mug and one dish, when his lover jerk his hips back and reached around to fasten a makeshift cock ring on him of standard-issue ninja rope. Izumo dropped the plate he was cleaning back in the sink and pushed back with his ass, moaning. But a sharp slap on the ass indicated he was supposed to keep washing. Whimpering, he began washing again. The minute he set down the cleaned plate on the draining board, his lover’s hands slid around his chest and fastened two clothespins on his nipples. Izumo’s head flew back, and he opened his mouth to cry out a protest—and found a tea towel pushed in between his lips, muffling it.

He was dying—the clothespins were as painful as the tightest of his lover’s pinches and hung down heavy from his nipples. His hands reached up to pull them off and not surprisingly he found them quickly bound to the faucet. He screamed behind the gag in his mouth, twisting and turning, unable to think, his whole world just the agony in his nipples. But then a slick cock slid into him and hit his prostate, and then again, and again, and the pleasure and pain mingled and mixed until nothing was left but pleasure. Izumo cried and screamed into his gag, but now he didn’t want the clothespins off his nipples—he just wanted more, more cock, more fucking, more sensation, more until he reached that state that his body was building towards. And his lover thrust in again and again.

This truly was being fucked—taken from behind, bound, gagged, with the now sweet agony of the clothespins dangling from his nipples and his cock and balls ringed with rope, preventing him from coming. And Izumo loved it. He screamed and cried into his gag until his throat felt too dry and tired, and still his lover thrust into steadily and hard. But he jerked out the tea towel, and Izumo only whimpered and gasped out, “Please, please, please.”

“Tell me,” ordered that sexy voice, shocking Izumo.

But he knew what he needed, “Please, please let me come.”

And then the cord around his cock and ballsac was gone, and Izumo’s orgasm roared through his body. As he rode the pleasure wracking his body, he felt his lover pull off the clothespins, causing a burst of pain that seemed to pull the cum out of his cock faster, harder, better. His lover’s thrusts suddenly moved at a pace that was too fast to follow, and just as his orgasm was starting to slow, he felt Kurohyou’s explode within him.

One second he was still bound at the sink, his cock drooping, his balls emptied, and the next he was in his bed, his lover curled around him, his softening cock still inside.

“You could use your chakra after that?” he gasped out, stunned.

The only reply was that odd chuffing noise that Izumo was learning was Kurohyou’s laugh. The chuffing turned into a purr, and if his throat hadn’t been painfully dry and his nipples now starting to hurt, Izumo would have been able to fall asleep again. But once more, as if reading his mind, or rather, body, Kurohyou gently pulled out and got Izumo some cold water. Then surprisingly, he used a deceptively simple medical jutsu that required a precise control of chakra that was difficult for many ninjas. He eased the minor pains in Izumo’s throat, wrists, nipples, and ass, leaving him painless and impressed.

“God, that was amazing. I didn’t realize you were a medical nin,” said Izumo.

Kurohyou’s head tilted, dismissing his skills, and he climb back in the bed, lowering himself over Izumo.

“No, really, it was incredible. Just like the sex was, and the way you—“

A kiss stopped Izumo’s mouth, and when Kurohyou lifted his head up, Izumo just whispered, “Perfect.”

And then for the third time since they’d met, Kurohyou smiled.

Izumo’s toes curled, his nose started bleeding, and his cock hardened.

Kurohyou’s smile got wider, and Izumo whimpered. That head with the sleek, shoulder-length hair descended again, kissing Izumo, a kiss sticky with the blood from his nosebleed. The taste of blood and black panther mixed in his mouth, and Izumo’s body tingled everywhere he felt his lover’s rubbing against him. As the kiss went on, between desire, breathlessness, and bloodloss, it wasn’t surprising that Izumo felt like the room was spinning around them. The odd, floaty feeling wasn’t as easy to explain, but Izumo didn’t look for any deeper reason for it beyond the fact that whenever he opened his eyes, Kurohyou was smiling at him. And his hands, his tongue, his cock now seemed to know every spot on his body that made him tingle--no, vibrate--in sensual delight. He came once, then twice, and he didn’t remember much after that until he was being held in his shower, and Kurohyou told him that he had to leave in ten minutes.

Eight minutes.

Four minutes.

Two minutes.

One minute.

One last kiss, one more smile, and then a whisper in his ear, “My Iriomote.”

And then he was gone.

“I love you,” whispered Izumo to the empty room.

And as he dressed for work, he wondered if he said those words to his black panther would they draw him closer or scare him away.