D/s Naruto

Additional warnings for this chapter: N/con, Tort, WS, Fet, CBT

Chapter 73 (Sunday 18 June 2007, afternoon)

Somehow, a little after an hour of the punishment had gone by, Sai got confused and began talking, not like Neji had said Hiashi had, but how his foster father had to him. He was reliving what had been done to him, but doing it instead. The words of his hated foster father came out of his mouth, harsh and cruel: “If you don’t get me off, boy, I’ll fuck your precious brother instead. Now stop that damn crying and show me that you want to be the one fucked. Make my cock feel welcome, and I’ll keep fucking you, not your brother.”

“No! Not Hizashi, Father, not Hizashi! I’m the oldest twin, Father! I’m the one you need to train, need to teach! I like it, Father! I’ll come for you, Father, please, please, I want to please you!” pleaded Hiashi in a desperate voice.

Shocked Sai froze. Dear god, what was this? Hiashi had been tortured too. He’d had a brother, a brother who had been threatened, a brother he’d needed to protect from rape, just like he had had. A brother who was Neji’s father and was now dead like my brother, Sai suddenly realized, feeling sick. The Rule of Three, said a voice in his mind that was laughing at him. Fuck that—he never believed in that rule, he’d just said that to Hiashi to scare him, so he’d never want to hurt anyone again. After all that was the whole point of the rule, to keep people from doing harm. But god, why had he thought he was above judgment? He was hardly better than Hiashi, repeating the very crime he hated the most. Oh, god, what had he done?

Balanced on his arms and feet, holding still as he thought this, Sai felt Hiashi now moving beneath him, moving on his cock. He’d torn Hiashi, and the reason he could move so easily back and forth was blood, not lube. He’d torn this man’s ass ruthlessly, uncaring, just as his foster father had torn him, and as Hiashi’s biological father had no doubt torn him. But god, at least his foster father hadn’t made him pretend to like it! This movement of Hiashi, this moaning, this desperate attempt to get off during a rape, after having his arm broken and his back and butt beaten till they bled in spots, this was sick. No, he wasn’t “hardly better” than Hiashi, he was no better than Hiashi—for he had more blood on his hands than he. He would have killed Hiashi, too, but thank god, he had just taken him, taking him reliving his foster father’s crimes, resurrecting the very man he’d killed with his actions, just as Hiashi had taken Neji, no doubt reliving his own father’s crimes.

`But I did it for revenge, not pleasure! He did it more than once!’ thought Sai, trying to justify the blood on Hiashi’s back, the blood inside the ass working itself on his cock, trying to get back that feeling of righteous anger.

“Father, father, I’m going to come for you, like I promised! See, I love you more than Hizashi! You don’t need Hizashi, Father, you only need me!”

Horrified, Sai felt the tight, tight ass around him convulse and heard Hiashi cry out incoherently as he orgasmed. He could smell the cum, and suddenly, he was terrified. Neji would smell the cum, would find the wet spot on the bed, would think he had disobeyed and come without him. Yes, he, the one who didn’t masturbate and who came only when ordered, Neji would think that he had deliberately laid on the bed and come on it, disobeying him. He pulled out of Hiashi and moved to the side of the bed. He sat there, hunched over, his arms holding him, rocking back and forth, whispering in a broken voice, “Neji, Neji, Neji--“

“You love Neji,” said Hiashi, interrupting Sai’s low chant, a chant he hadn’t realized he was saying aloud.

“He’ll hate me now,” said Sai in a tortured voice.

“Did you do this to protect him or to exorcise something from your own past?” asked Hiashi.

Sai gave a cry of pain, and said, “I thought I was helping him, but he’ll be hurt.”

“You’re not going to kill me, anymore, are you?” demanded Hiashi.

“No,” said Sai, “I—I’m sorry.”

“I deserved it, and even worse, I—“ Hiashi paused, took a deep breath, and said, “I think if you hadn’t broken my arm, I’d have come from the belt in the first ten minutes before it became so fucking painful that I lost it. My ass is torn, and until you stopped moving, that was so painful I thought about begging you to just kill me instead. But I—“ Again, Haishi paused and sighed. “I envy Neji and you. He didn’t rape someone innocent because he was hurt, because he’d come to associate pleasure with pain, he found someone willing. He has you, who love him and want to protect him, knowing him, knowing everything about him. He might even be able to find some happiness despite the evil I did.”

“I’m not allowed to come. He’ll smell the cum, he’ll know, he’ll hate me,” said Sai.

“Don’t be stupid. We can hide this,” said Hiashi. “If you love him, be strong. Let’s change the sheets—oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Hiashi had tried to stand, but he fell to the floor.

Sai suddenly went into action. Hiashi had forgiven him, well, not exactly, but as much as he could. He’d even admitted both weakness and wrongdoing, which Sai had a feeling was something even more rare than an apology. Hiashi is right, Sai thought, I can cover this up, no, we can cover this up.

“Where are you going?” demanded Hiashi.

“To get you painkillers and a splint,” said Sai.

“No—the bed first, get the sheets off, so hardly anything seeps through,” ordered Hiashi. His voice was an older version of Neji’s, a voice used to commanding, a dom’s voice. Sai obeyed. And surreally, he cleaned the bed, cleaned up Hiashi, made some coffee under Hiashi’s order—some for him to drink and to take two morphine pills of Sai’s with, a little to be spilled on the cum spot on the mattress, then scrubbed.

And all the while Hiashi grilled him about this morning’s breakfast—had he already cleaned up the dishes when Neji was last in the room? Had there been coffee in Neji’s mug that Sai could have spilled? Was Sai permitted to eat on the bed? Did he smoke? Did he have a job? For at some point the questions had become an evaluation of Sai, of whether or not Sai was good enough for Neji. But Sai had the feeling that Hiashi had fallen back into this role out of nervousness.

Surprisingly, not much later, Hiashi was dressed in his suit again, the bandages on his asshole and back hidden away, and the two moved outside. “I could find you a dom, Hiashi,” said Sai, surfacing from the pool and handing him his wet, ruined phone. Hiashi frowned down at Sai, and even with his broken arm in a temporary sling, he still looked like a powerful executive and a ruler. He was in his late fifties, about thirty years old than Sai and Neji, but still fit and attractive. “A lot of very powerful men are subs,” said Sai. “They need to feel the freedom of not having to be in charge and responsible for everything once in a while.”

“Dry off quickly. I want you to drive me home in my car, now,” ordered Hiashi. Sai got out of the pool and moved over to the towel on the chair, quickly and efficiently drying himself. He slid on the gym shorts he’d brought down at Hiashi’s order, then he went over and picked up the older man, ignoring his protests, carrying him out to the Mercedes. He had a weird déjà vu feeling as he put Hiashi into the passenger’s seat. Neji and his uncle were a lot alike—and not just because they had those same unbelievable pale silver-grey eyes, the same gorgeous, silky long hair.

“There’s a guy that Neji never did anything with but eat dinner, a guy that if that dinner hadn’t been interrupted, would probably be living over his garage now,” said Sai as he started the car. “He was sexually abused as a kid and then kept as a slave by a guy with long dark hair, the owner of Manda’s.”

“Orochimaru,” said Hiashi.

“Yes,” said Sai, carefully turning around the car in a slow four-point turn. “The only person he’s been with at Uchiha’s is Itachi, the only other dom besides Neji with long dark hair, but Itachi is now a slave.” Hiashi made some odd gargling noises that Sai ignored. “Itachi’s new owner is his partner, Kisame. I don’t know if he’ll still be permitted to dom, but I think so. It will be an open, unconfirmed secret as probably Kisame and Itachi will never admit it.”


“And you know because you know,” said Hiashi.

“Yes. So this Kaguya Kimimaro won’t become Itachi’s sub nor Neji’s, and there is no one else. If he goes back to Orochimaru who threw him out and replaced him, he won’t live long,” said Sai. “Orochimaru will give him bare to the diseased, to sadists, to anyone. You could save him. He wouldn’t care if you never took him out and kept him locked in a room for the rest of his life as long as he was yours, and you mastered him periodically. Supposedly Orochimaru kept him in a cage in the dark for years when he was a kid. He’s living in the Stardust on the little money Orochimaru gave him before he tossed him out. Itachi gave him membership for free, not that he’ll admit it to anyone. He believes that doms can’t show kindness. If you don’t approach Kimimaro soon, he’ll probably become a rent boy and might not stay clean.”

“I’ll need someone to help me with my broken arm,” said Hiashi slowly as he reached up and pushed the button to remotely open his garage.

“Yes, a man who can help you and wash you,” agreed Sai pulling the car into Hiashi’s garage. “You’ll need some equipment to deal with Kimimaro. I’m sure he would enjoy being forced to buy the very things that will bind him and beat him.”

“The Stardust, the crappy dive that will rent by the hour a few blocks up from the train depot?” asked Hiashi.

“Yes, Room 8, I think,” said Sai, getting out of the car.

“Mr. Hyuuga, Sir, are you alright?” asked a gray-haired man, dressed rather like a waiter at a good restaurant, who had burst into the garage from the house looking very worried.

“Thomas, this is Neji’s fiancée. I’ll be seeing you, Sai,” said Hiashi.

Sai nodded at Hiashi and the stunned Thomas, and, feeling a little stunned himself, walked away.

“I’ll need another phone, Thomas. Please get me one and have Theresa call Dr. Hampstead. I’ve broken my left arm.”

“Sir!”

“I’m fine for now. Mr. Sai temporarily set it and bandaged it. I’ve taken some pain medicine that is working adequately. Hurry back with the phone, Thomas, I need to go somewhere.”

Hiashi watched Thomas scurrying away. The morphine that Sai had given him was indeed working adequately. His arm, ass, and back were still painful, but endurable. His emotions were surprisingly calm. He wondered if that was due to the morphine, shock, or just his own reserved and repressed character. It didn’t matter. The hold of tradition, of the code of the Hyuugas, had cracked. He was going to take a male lover, he, Hyuuga Hiashi, whose sexual experience with men consisted of his father, his brother, his nephew, and his nephew’s love slave. A lover who was submissive and masochistic, who would be, essentially, a slave. A man abused by that freak Orochimaru. He’d had Manda’s along with all the other gay clubs in town investigated when Neji first started going out and doing scenes at eighteen. He’d been relieved when Neji had chosen Uchiha’s, not Manda’s as his main place to play.

Play! That was quite a euphemism for public sex, whippings, and those other things—dressing men as women, as ponies, as dogs, even making them shit in a sandbox like an animal—or sticking them in a tub and pissing on them. No, that was Manda’s, and not something Neji did. Hiashi remembered that there was a room in Manda’s basement, a room with a big tub where men lay in piss, drinking piss. Had this Kaguya Kimimaro been forced to lie in that tub? He needed a report on him. He’d call that private investigator he always used. But first, he had to call the office, to have someone cover for him—Neji, Neji, of course. He’d give his nephew a chance to prove himself. If he could run the company for a week, he’d give him a real senior position in the company. Oh, and he needed a full background report on this Sai as well as Kimimaro.

By the time Thomas pulled into the Stardust motel and parked right in front of Room 8, having been told to park as close to that room as possible, Hiashi had spoken to his investigator, Tobi, as well as Neji. He told his nephew he had stopped at his house, having seen Sai washing the Prowler. He’d slipped in a puddle on the driveway, breaking his arm and ruining his phone, which had gotten soaked. Much of the story he’d told Neji was for Thomas’s benefit. And then he’d called Neji’s house, verifying Neji’s house phones had been rewired and letting Sai know “the story” discretely by pretending to reassure him that his broken arm from slipping in the driveway wasn’t his fault.

He probably hadn’t needed to call Sai. Yes, he was sure that Sai would have been able to figure out what he’d told Neji and play along even without his call, but he wanted to call, to hear that voice again. He shivered remembering how it felt to have that inhumanly big cock in him, to push back on it until he came. Then he remembered how horribly, horribly painful it had felt before Sai had stopped. No, he was not going to be jealous of his nephew. Oh, fuck, he was, because he could imagine what it would be like if that cock was lubed, if Sai was just a bit more gentle—shit! God, please let this Kimimaro drive these thoughts out of my head!

“Sir? Sir, we’re here,” said Thomas.

“Yes, Thomas. I don’t want help getting out. I may be a minute, I may be an hour. Don’t fret,” ordered Hiashi.

“Yes, Sir,” came the reply.

And then there was nothing left to do but get out of the car and go knock on the door. It suddenly occurred to Hiashi that Kimimaro might not even be in this room. As he knocked on the dirty wooden door with the number 8 on it, he smiled thinking how if the door didn’t open, he might never fuck a man, might never have the courage to do this again. And thus when the door opened, the first thing Kimimaro saw was that smile.

The knocking had startled him. He’d been lying on the bed looking at the ceiling, just waiting in a loose pair of white y-fronts. He’d left messages at Uchiha’s, messages asking for sub sessions with both Itachi and Neji. He’d hoped for a call on Sunday, but it hadn’t come. He really didn’t expect either to call, but he’d hold out hope until a week went by. But a knock—housekeeping had come and gone hours ago. Who?

And he opened the door, peering around it, to hide that he was in his underwear, and there was someone smiling at him. Smiling—and, oh god, gorgeous, almost as gorgeous as Orochimaru! Just like Neji, but better, older, old like Orochimaru had been ten years ago in his fifties, when he first fallen in love with him, when he’d been at his most beautiful. Unlike his beloved old master, this man wore his hair back from his face, a face that wasn’t glamorous or mischievous like his beloved's, but looked instead stern, sad, and in a little pain. But sexy, very sexy. There was a sling on one of his arms. But why was he here? Was he looking for Neji?

“Kaguya Kimimaro?” asked the beautiful stranger.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied.

“Let me in, boy,” the man said, and the order, the note of command in his voice, the use of “boy,” the term a dom used for a sub—all this made Kimimaro suddenly full of hope, full of desire. He would never love anyone like he loved Orochimaru, the only being in the world who had ever needed him or wanted him, but there was still room in his heart for a new master. He jerked the door open and let in this older Neji, saying, “Yes, Sir.”

The man moved into the room, making it seem even smaller and more squalid than it was. He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge, ordering, “Shut the door, boy, and come here and let me see you.”

Oh, god, this is a master, a dom, and he’s come to consider me, to look at me, thought Kimimaro, shutting the door, locking it, and then stripping off his underwear. He moved over, his eyes down, his heart beating, and his cock hard. He stood before the master on the bed, legs spread, ass back a bit, his chest with its erect nipples pushed forward, his hands folded at the small of his back. He kept his head back so his long white blonde hair wouldn’t hide any of his body, but his eyes were still lowered as a sub’s should be.

“Turn around,” came the order.

Kimimaro turned, now putting his head down so all his hair would fall forward and show all of his back and ass. This strange dom could now see all his old scars and the still healing marks from the whipping Itachi had given him on Saturday.

“I’ve seen enough,” said that commanding voice, and Kimimaro’s spirit broke at the dismissal. He fell to his knees and started to cry.

“Dammit, boy, come here, put your head on my knees. I’ve got a broken arm, or I’d pull you up myself and spank you. I didn’t say that I didn’t like what I saw.”

“Master, oh, Master,” cried Kimimaro, and then he was licking and kissing Hiashi’s shoes, kissing up the wool trousers, putting his head on that lap.

Hiashi undid his sling, frustrated, letting it slide to the floor. He buried his hands in the long platinum blond hair, tilted up that head with his right hand, and looked at the deep green eyes rimmed with red from crying. Dear god, he was beautiful, beautiful. He looked like he was only in his early twenties, slim, too slim, all his bones showing, almost as if he was malnourished. And his above-average sized cock was hard, hard for him, Hyuuga Hiashi, an old, injured, perverted man. And god, that ass, that gorgeous ass with its scars and fading whip marks had him painfully hard. He wanted to fuck that ass, to add more marks, to crack his belt over that ass, to make this gorgeous thing cry again, but cry from his cock, his belt.

“I’ve never had a male lover, a man I could call mine, a man living in my home for me to fuck, to—“ Hiashi faultered before continuing honestly, “to spank, to whip, to care for, to feed—damn it, you need to eat more. If you come home with me, you will put on some weight on those bones that stick out on you.” And at those words, Kimimaro’s eyes overflowed with tears, and his face with its naked hope and shocked pleasure electrified Hiashi. Nothing in his life had been this purely erotic. The sexuality pulsing in this sordid little room was without the taint of incest or rape.

“Master, please take me home with you, please, I want to be your slave.”

Triumph filled Hiashi and almost immediately that feeling was followed by possessiveness. “I won’t let you go, and I’ll never share you,” said Hiashi, “you’ll be mine, only mine, you’ll live in my house and do nothing but what I order. And I’m going to make that ass of yours hurt every day. I’m going to make you bleed,” admitted Hiashi, suddenly feeling he had to be honest, to give this pretty creature a chance to back out, “I’m going to want to see blood and hear you scream, but not everyday, and I’ll wash you, bandage you, and give you pain killers afterwards.”

“Oh, Master, thank you, Master. Master, Master, can I ask for something, please?”

The question unsettled Hiashi, and he snapped, “Stick to sir, boy, not master. You’re coming home as a live-in therapist for my broken arm. You’ll be discrete in front of others, or I’ll teach you to be with the whip. Now ask your question.”

“Oh, Sir, then I won’t have to live in a cage? I’ll have a pillow on the floor?”

“You’ll have a bed, dammit,” snapped Hiashi, “although I’m going to want you in my bed many nights.” Anger at Orochimaru was flooding him and making him want to do a “Sai” and go lock Orochimaru in a dark cage.

“Oh, Sir, Sir, thank you, thank you. Oh, Sir, Sir, your kindness, your kindness! Please, Sir, may I suck you off, Sir, before you take me home? I know that I haven’t done anything to deserve the reward of sucking your cock, Sir, but I can see your erection, and I—it’s been a long time since I was permitted to taste cock. And, Sir, Sir, I want you so badly.”

Permitted to taste cock? Cocksucking was a reward? Oh, god, my poor Kimimaro, and lucky, lucky me. Hiashi’s cock leaped, and he knew for the first time in his life, he could have whatever he wanted without guilt, without shame. He wanted those pale lips on his cock, but he wanted to bury his cock in that ass more. Yet, his pain was getting a little stronger and he’d already come less than an hour ago, so he knew that he only had one orgasm left in him for quite a long while. As he aged, he needed longer and longer to recover from an orgasm. But, dammit, with his broken arm, he’d be pretty incompetent as a lover, hell, he hadn’t had anal sex in a decade, since just after his divorce back in the `90s. And as much as he was rebelling against the Hyuuga code, he had the Hyuuga pride. It didn’t matter that Kimimaro wouldn’t criticize him, but he wouldn’t fuck him until he could do it right. And now, he felt too unsure, too vulnerable.

When feeling vulnerable, Hyuuga’s made sure to pass that feeling on to those around them. So Hiashi said, “Not permitted to suck cock, pretty one? Are you so bad at it, then? Or are you a biter?”

“Sir! No, sir!”

Hiashi laughed at the shock and dismay in the blonde’s face. “You deserve a reward for choosing to come home with me,” he said. “Go ahead, boy, and convince me that I should let you lick my dick on a regular basis.”

It would take a pretty piss-poor blowjob for me to not want that, thought Hiashi, but I’m not going to let you know that pretty one. You might just figure out just how pretty you are.

“Sir, thank you!” cried out Kimimaru. “But, please, Sir, may I put on a cockring first? My ability to hold back orgasm is weak now, Sir, it’s been so long for me, Sir.”

“You think you're going to come from just blowing me?” asked Hiashi, forgetting to act cool and sophisticated about sex.

“Sir is so humble! Sir is so sexy that I am close now, Sir!” He pushed his groin out as if Hiashi might be having trouble seeing that full-on boner. His dick was red from root to tip, and its eye was weeping.

“Put on a condom, then, so you don’t get your cum on my pants, slut,” said Hiashi, his own arousal intensifying with the flattery and anticipation.

“Oh, Sir, Sir, thank you,” said Kimimaro as he crawled to the nightstand next to the bed and took out a condom, covering up his cock. It suddenly occurred to Hiashi that maybe he should offer to put on a condom, too.

“I get tested for my medical company each year,” said Hiashi, “and I’m clean. But, if you want me to get another test—“

“No, Sir. I trust, Sir,” said Kimimaro, and he did. Later he would be shocked at this, for he hadn’t trusted Itachi, Neji, or even his beloved Orochimaru, not to lie to him about being clean, but this handsome man with the sad, pain-lined face, he just did.

And then he gently tapped on Hiashi’s legs, letting him know he wanted them spread more. The simple act of spreading his legs for this kneeling boy made Hiashi shiver. But Kimimaro said nothing about this sign of desire, just moving between those spread legs, and unbuckling Hiashi’s belt, undoing his zipper, and unsnapping his boxers. Then a long, elegant white hand reached in and released his cock. Hiashi felt a moment’s unease. His cock looked exactly like Kimimaro’s, he thought, looking down at it. It was the same size, and both of them had the same pale skin that was flushed red. His cock was already leaking, just as Kimimaro’s had been. He’d rather have had a bigger cock than his new lover’s and would have preferred his cock to have been less aroused, but at least he was spared the humiliation of having felt small. The thought of how inferior Neji must feel to Sai in regards to his cock made Hiashi suddenly feel smug—his brief moment of desire for Sai had already been obliterated by this pretty thing holding his cock.

“Oh, Master, Master, your cock is so beautiful, so perfect! Thank you!” The words burst from Kimimaro, making Hiashi feel another rush of triumph and a burst of something else, something long held back inside him.

“I said to call me Sir, not Master! Disobedient already! You don’t deserve a reward, boy!”

The white hand left his cock, trembling. “I’m sorry, Sir. Sir is correct. Please punish me, Sir, to help me learn to please you faster.”

“Remove my belt, then bend over, boy, holding your ankles,” ordered Hiashi.

Trembling hands complied, and Hiashi wasn’t surprised that Kimimaro began to beg. “Please, sir, please--I won’t be able to hold it, and I know I don’t deserve to get off. Please, I’m sorry I’m such a pain slut, Sir, but please, let me put on the cockring.”

Hiashi blinked and said, “What if I beat your cock with this belt, not your ass? Would that prevent you from coming?”

“I don’t know, Sir,” he said, his head falling down and that white hair covering his face. “I’ve never been beaten on my cock when I wasn’t in a cockring.”

“Well, I’ve never tried to whip a cock with a broken arm and morphine in my system, but let’s see what happens,” said Hiashi as he stood up. “If you come, I won’t punish you for it. Take the condom off and lay on the bed, one hand on the base of your cock, the other holding the tip up in the air.”

Kimimaro did as ordered, thanking him profusely as he positioned himself on his back along the edge of the bed, holding his cock as directed. Hiashi, however, ignored him, looking around the room before pulling the one simple wooden chair into the center of the room. The back of the chair was two simple wooden spindles beneath a straight slat of wood. Hiashi took careful aim at one of the two simple spindles with the belt. He took three practice swings at the chair before he came to the bed. He was expecting to find Kimimaro’s erection gone, but his cock was still fully erect. His own cock, still out of his pants and boxers, jerked at the sight. He raised his arm and let the belt fly, but not as hard as he could. The sight of the belt smacking into that cock and the sound of Kimimaro’s loud cry were so exciting he had to bite his tongue hard not to come.

“Thank you, Sir, thank you for punishing me,” moaned Kimimaro, still clearly aroused, his own desire evident in his body and voice, not just his cock. And this time, this time, Hiashi didn’t hold back. It seemed to him like time slowed down, and the belt took forever to whip around and hit that red cock with the redder welt on it, landing just above that welt he’d caused. This time Kimimaro screamed and his body writhed before he could thank Hiashi.

There wasn’t room to go above or below the two marks he’d already made without the risk of hitting either of Kimimaro’s hands or even his balls or stomach. It took so long to raise up his arm with the belt. He would aim just between the two blows, but there would be overlap along the top and bottom of this blow. He started his blow, his unhurt arm and wrist moving through the air slowly. And when the belt finally landed on that cock, Kimimaro’s body jerked violently, his scream filled the room, and he came. The cum spurted up, and in this slowed down time, Hiashi saw the white globs slowly soaring upwards and felt his own balls tighten up, rising up as the those blobs of cum rose, and then felt his cum starting to push up and out of him. On the bed, Kimimaro’s body danced as the orgasm moved and contorted his body more than the belt had. His cum joined Kimimaro’s and the two sets of drops intermingled as if they were waltzing, rising for two beats, then falling on the third beat to land on that bone white skin.

He’d never come without his cock rubbing or touching something else before, but this pretty boy’s pain and pleasure was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He’d never gone to a gay club, let alone a BDSM one, and he only had seen straight porn. This was unbelievable, unreal, and the loud banging of his heart insane—oh, wait, that was the door, that was Thomas banging on the motel room door, no doubt worried about the screams. But he was still coming, even as he began to form the words, “I’m fine.”

“Mr. Hyuuga! Mr. Hyuuga!”

And then his orgasm was over, time went back to normal, and he called out, “I’m fine, Thomas!” He’d dropped the belt, and his hand touched Kimimaro’s body, smearing their cum together, up that bony ribcage, over that hairless chest, over the pretty little tattoo at the sternal notch, an inverted red Y or maybe a flower of three petals and no center. He lingered there tracing each of the three red curves, then moved his hand to those pale lips, and Kimimaro’s tongue came out and licked his hand clean as they stared at each other—pale grey eyes and rich, grass green ones. And this time when he heard knocking, Hiashi knew it was his heart that was beating so loudly. When all the cum was off his hand, Kimimaro kept licking, and Hiashi felt such an overwhelming desire to kiss him, to whisper sweet words to him, to make himself vulnerable, that once more he bit his tongue.

Then he smiled, his hand gently cupping the side of Kimimaro’s face, and said, “I think we’ll live an interesting life together. Well, let’s go.” And a blush colored Kimimaro’s two cheeks, and he smiled at Hiashi, a smile so sweet, he felt himself in danger of blushing as well and could feel a little straining in his cock although it hung there to all appearances unmoved. No, he couldn’t show his vulnerability yet, he couldn’t let Kimimaro see that one smile from him, a genuine, rich smile was making his old man’s cock feel young again. “I’ll use the bathroom, then wait in the car, boy. Don’t make me wait too long,” he said.

And leaning against the bathroom door, his hand over his wildly beating heart, he heard Kimimaro cry, “I won’t, Sir,” and then the sounds of hurried packing.

Interesting—Hiashi rolled his eyes at his own understatement. If things got much more interesting, he might just die of a heart attack. God, he needed the doctor. He wanted to live a long, long time.