Deprivation

Kimimaro awoke with a body pressed against his back, sticky and hot beneath a soft blanket, and he closed his eyes again, trying to keep dreaming of the mystery Master who touched him like Kimimaro was Master’s most prized possession. Hot breath blew against the back of Kimi’s head, some trickling down to his neck, and he shivered, slowly recalling where he was and with whom he shared a bed.

Licking his lips, Kimimaro tried to turn his head to see the clock without waking his bedmate, but the angle was too harsh. The arm over Kimi’s hips was heavy and limp, and Kimimaro worried at a bit of metal with his teeth. He needed the bathroom; he wanted to wrap himself up in short-lived intimacy and listen to Itachi breathe. He worried about Haku; he feared he’d violate the contract if he left Itachi now. Closing his eyes, Kimimaro took a deep breath and let the physical needs win the first round of the war in his mind.

Feeling like the one-night stand everyone wanted to forget, Kimimaro carefully crept forward on the bed. When Itachi’s hand fell to the mattress, Kimimaro turned to see the man in sweet repose, and Kimi had to snatch his fingers back before they made contact with a pale cheek. He shouldn’t wake Master Itachi; the man looked like he needed all the sleep he could manage, and if nothing else, Kimimaro could do that for him.

Out of the bed, Kimi crept to the bathroom on silent feet, shutting the door with a grateful, soft sigh when it didn’t make any noise. Quickly, he took care of bodily needs, and then set about cleaning himself off with a washcloth he grabbed from a rack in one corner. Running the shower might wake Itachi, so Kimi made do with the sink, taking care that every drop of water hit the cloth and not the basin. Kimimaro paused when he looked down at the red lines on his thighs: there were more than he remembered receiving. Shivering and gripping the porcelain to steady himself, Kimimaro let out a silent breath before he recovered and continued his sponge bath.

Task as complete as it could be, Kimimaro put the cloth in a hamper before wrapping his arms about himself, thinking. He couldn’t leave and wasn’t sure why he even considered such a thing. He had no idea what time it was, but he’d promised a full night and would deliver upon his word. Kimi ran a hand through his hair, pulling at tangles, and realized he wanted to go because really, in his heart, he was dying to stay. Forever, if possible. It was a crazy thought on many levels: one play session did not a relationship make, it didn’t do to be so Scene-sick hopeful, and he had to think of Haku.

And it didn’t matter that Itachi said something about discussing future sessions. Kimimaro wanted them – wanted them badly – but he worried both about letting himself go down that path and about hurting the man who currently slept in Kimimaro’s bed, waiting for him to come home. He knew, of course, that Haku would fundamentally understand if such a relationship grew between Kimimaro and Itachi.

Understanding, however, did not mean forgiving. Kimimaro understood many of the reasons and motivations Zabuza had for his treatment of Haku. It certainly didn’t make the desire to torture the bastard for months on end before ending his life and throwing his body into a ditch any less appealing.

First thing’s first, Kimimaro thought: get through the rest of the night. Then he could worry about emotional fall out and how to put himself back together and not feel pathetic for needing to do so after one simple night with a man who was – and continued to be, in most ways – a perfect stranger.

Kimimaro turned out the light above the sink and a shiver rocked his shoulders. He opened the door and jumped back with a thoroughly unmanly screech, stumbling and barely catching himself from falling.

Itachi didn’t move from where he stood just on the other side of the door like a shadowy illusion: arms crossed to hold the blanket wrapped around his nude body, dark eyes serious in the dim light.

“Master Itachi you scared the shit out of me,” Kimimaro gasped, hand over his heart for a second before it flew up to cover his mouth, deep blush coloring his cheeks. His eyes widened as he realized his multiple errors, and he wanted to crawl into the bathtub and hide until he heard a low, rasping sound.

Itachi chuckled: a soft, uncertain noise.

“I…I’m sorry,” Kimimaro said.

“For my scare or your shit?” Itachi asked.

Kimimaro blinked, not daring to look up at the man. “Er…both?”

“Such a burden to be sorry for so many things.”

“I apologize,” Kimimaro said automatically, wincing as he did so.

“Multiple apologies unnecessary but accepted,” Itachi said, and finally Kimimaro glanced up to find a smile trying to make Itachi’s lips its reluctant playmates. He swallowed, worried, confused, and oddly hopeful.

“Come back to bed, if you’re done,” Itachi said, turning with a swish of long hair. “I’m cold.”

“Of course, Mast -” Kimimaro truly wanted to kick himself in the balls. He could probably manage, actually, but he pushed the thought away and stayed quiet as he followed and climbed back onto the bed.

Itachi lay on his back, one arm up to hold the blanket. “Here,” he said. “Lie with me and let me hold you.”

Feeling like something inside him was breaking, Kimimaro obeyed, settling his head on Itachi’s chest and closing his eyes when Itachi pressed him close and covered him with the blanket.

“I chill easily,” Itachi said quietly.

Kimimaro thought of Haku’s chronically-cold feet and said nothing. The two men rested in the quiet of the room, and for a second, Kimimaro thought Itachi had dozed off when the man sighed and one hand came up to thread into Kimi’s hair.

“So…Haku,” Itachi murmured, voice curious.

Kimimaro went rigid.

“It’s all right, Kimimaro.” The hand in Kimi’s hair stroked once, fingers gently digging into the scalp.

It most certainly was not all right. Nothing was. Kimimaro couldn’t find words, and images of the goddamned letter danced behind his eyelids. He couldn’t sort out why everything about this was so hard and so awful, but he knew it surely was, and he wanted to run and to bury himself in Itachi’s neck at the same time.

“You said his name in your sleep,” Itachi said.

“I…I…” Kimimaro sat up, and shame shot through him that he was acting so terribly. He wanted things so much and so badly that he couldn’t think or breathe. There was Haku, alone and waiting; there was Kimi, tied and moaning; there was Master Itachi’s eyes, warm and unblinking. Kimimaro pressed a fist to his mouth, grinding metal against his gums. “Forgive me, Itachi, but I believe I have to leave.”

With a speed and fluidity that Kimi would find fascinating under normal circumstances, Itachi sat up and threw a long leg over both of Kimi’s, knee bent. Itachi reached and pulled Kimimaro flush to his chest in the next heartbeat. Kimimaro gasped at the surprising strength that held him. “Why do you need to leave, Kimimaro?”

“I’m just…I’m going to embarrass myself and do a disservice to you,” Kimimaro managed, voice shaking. “So please-- ”

“There are hours before dawn.”

“Yes, I know, I’m humiliated in my display of such--”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Kimimaro gritted his teeth, struggling and feeling Itachi fight to hold him still. “Rude, I’m being so terribly rude, and it’s unforgivable, Master, but please feel free to discuss my punishment with--”

“Unnecessary to discuss this with anyone but you, sweet boy. Now tell me why you think you’ll-- ”

“I can’t, Master, please, please, just stop being so--”

“Kimimaro,” Itachi said, voice never wavering from its wintry calm. “I’d rather you not go anywhere until you tell me--”

“Goddammit,” Kimimaro growled, pushing against what felt like an immovable wall of willpower and muscle.

“Kimimaro--”

The patient voice cracked Kimimaro’s insides: ice expanding in stone walls. “No,” Kimimaro gasped. “I - I want you too fucking much!” Head whipping to the side and hands coming up, Kimi shoved hard against Itachi’s chest. The other man rolled with the movement, one arm coming up to knock aside Kimi’s right hand. Kimimaro’s pulse screamed in his ears, his vision went red on the edges, and a sound made of anger and ache escaped his lips. He tried to get away, thought he might make it, and Itachi yanked him back down onto the mattress. Kimimaro’s body acting entirely on independent will, he rolled up against the other man, gasping.

“Stop being so…oh God, please…” Struggling through the sensation, Kimi scrambled and sat back up, tangling with Itachi and not actually fighting hard enough to get away.

“Do you love him?” Itachi asked, voice calm despite grappling Kimimaro with force, hands around his wrists and leg digging into the bed for leverage. “Do you?” Itachi’s voice was stunningly loud and it shocked Kimimaro enough to stop fighting and blink through tears at brown eyes that seemed to burn with internal fire.

“M-Master?”

“Haku,” Itachi said, volume lower but tone hard as steel. “Zabuza’s former pet. He’s the one in your life, is he not?”

“You know about…?”

Itachi nodded once, curt. “I wanted to know as much about you as possible. You said his name, and I connected it to the pieces I know.”

Kimimaro shook his head, frowning. “Master Neji…?”

“Told me there was someone in your life, that you were under strain, but left out all the important details. Now answer me: do you love him?”

“Haku?”

“Yes, Kimimaro, Haku.” Itachi sounded like a far fiercer version of Sasuke when he was frustrated with Naruto, and Kimimaro winced.

“I…Haku is my …” Kimimaro tried to breathe, old anger warring with new sorrow.

“Friend?” Itachi tried.

“Yes,” Kimimaro answered.

“Lover?”

Quieter: “Yes.”

“You love him.” It was not a question, and Kimimaro couldn’t tell if Master was resigned or relieved or merely accepting. Kimi nodded once, miserable.

“Then you feel you must leave because you will betray him if you agree to more time with me.” Itachi paused for half a heartbeat. “Or if you want more time with me.”

Kimimaro looked up at Itachi, forehead crumpled into an expression of confused defeat. “How do you know this?”

“Because it’s only logical, Kimimaro.”

“It is?”

Shapely dark eyebrows rose and pink lips twisted into a half-smile. “Utterly, sweet boy. Utterly.”

A house of cards two miles high quaked and began to fall. “I’m not like this.” The words were breathless, and Kimi snatched his hands out of Itachi’s grip. The Uchiha let him go but one hand fell to stroke Kimi’s back. Kimimaro was horrified and self-righteous at the same time, and Kimi had no idea what to do about it. Apologize? Run? Fight? This was impossible. He was a fool – an idiot, a coward, an ass. He’d struck at the man who’d given him so much not hours ago. He’d called him the wrong names, done things Master asked him not to do, tried to violate a contract, yelled and cursed and…

He still called me, “sweet.”

“Please,” Kimimaro said, head down and completely unsure of what he asked. He only knew begging seemed appropriate. “Please…”

Itachi pulled Kimi to him again, gently forcing his head against Itachi’s pale shoulder, hand back in Kimimaro’s hair. “There, now,” Itachi said. “Thank you for letting me hold you. I like you here with me, and I want you to tell me about Haku.” He paused and Kimimaro felt Itachi swallow. “It would be very useful.”

Kimimaro wanted nothing more than to be useful and good for Master Itachi – it was only fair, only the man’s due, only right.

For a moment there was too much to say and then words broke through the dam and Kimimaro told Itachi everything. The Tournament, the torn collar, the tears Haku shed against Kimi’s bare chest when Kimimaro was too stunned at the sound of Haku’s voice to do much more than hold the boy. The rushed days of gathering things from Haku’s former home to move them into a condo, nominally Haku’s, and getting the locks changed. Days spent in fear, hours of tears, too few nights of exhausted sleep. Moving Haku when he couldn’t support himself, helping him find a job when he’d never so much as read a want ad, bodily moving Haku into the shower when all the man could do was weep that he wanted just to die, to please just let him go, and Kimimaro’s eyes burned as he thought about holding Haku under the spray, telling him it’d get better and praying he told the truth. Driving to see a counselor week after week. The fear…the hope…

Coming home months later to find his apartment rearranged and cookies in the oven. Haku making Kimimaro dinner, begging him to let Haku buy the groceries for once. The negotiating, the talking, the movie nights, the trips to Genma and Raidou’s to play cards. The first time they fucked. The last time they made love.

A year of life and struggle came pouring out of Kimimaro’s mouth and Itachi held him without a word, only hugging Kimi when he paused to tell him Itachi heard and that Kimi should continue.

“I can’t leave him,” Kimimaro gasped when he was done, dry-eyed and numb.

“I agree,” Itachi said and Kimimaro slumped against the Uchiha, exhausted from the night and the speech.

“But I…loved…your letter.”

“I love that you agreed to its terms,” Itachi answered.

“I’m so sorry about the way I behaved.”

Itachi made an unhappy sound and twisted, moving Kimi’s chin to make their gazes meet. “You are not sorry about the Scene, which was perfection,” he said, firmly but softly. “Nor for being human, for feeling with depth, for being honorable, for loving another, or for doing as I asked and told you to do.” Itachi’s dark eyes were wide and calm, and Kimimaro felt drugged gazing into them. Itachi stroked Kimimaro’s cheek.

“I enjoy protocol and your brand of deference, Kimimaro, but I enjoy the truth more. When Neji told me there were complications in your life, I wasn’t put off: I was intrigued. I’ve been alone for years. I live alone, I work alone, and I rarely venture out these days as humanity holds little interest to me.

“You, Kimimaro, caught my attention. I saw you with Orochimaru in the days at Haze. I know what he is, and I know what you were to him. I know Zabuza, but no one knew much of his precious Haku other than he didn’t deserve the gift he had.” Itachi’s eyes narrowed, hand tightening on Kimimaro’s chin. “You were not given your worth, either, and when I saw you here – working, managing, apparently whole – I was…impressed.” Itachi’s eyes grew distant. “I know what it is to lose oneself and try to come back to body and soul and rebuild. It takes strength.”

The honesty of the words and the pain in Itachi’s inward gaze made Kimimaro hurt in places he’d forgotten could feel at all, and he gasped a quiet sound, half sob and half sigh.

“I want more of you,” Itachi stated quietly, gaze fixing upon Kimimaro again, rendering him motionless. “And given your circumstances, I humbly ask that you permit me to meet your Haku.”

Kimimaro choked on his own saliva and it felt like his hearing was dampened again by plugs. “You want to meet Haku?”

Itachi nodded once. “I do. You’re his keeper of sorts, from what you’ve told me, and he means much to you.” Itachi nearly-smiled in hesitant tenderness, thumb tracing Kimimaro’s jaw. “I would like to meet the man who took your heart so quietly that you didn’t notice when ownership swapped hands. Perhaps I could get his permission or blessing.” Itachi paused and tears streamed down Kimimaro’s face. “Or see if he might be interested in--”

With a greedy noise, Kimimaro kissed Itachi, thinking it the only thing to do. The earth spun too fast, gravity wasn’t working properly, but the feel of lips that moved and opened and claimed was real and essential. Kimimaro couldn’t sort out hope from fear, but the hands that guided him down onto the bed were warm and necessary. He imagined Haku sleeping; recalled Master Itachi’s face when he came.

If only he could want both of us…

Kimimaro gently bit at Itachi’s lower lip and wrapped his arms and legs around the man on top of him. When a hardening cock rubbed against his, Kimi whimpered into Itachi’s mouth. The kiss broke, Itachi’s lips found Kimimaro’s neck, and Kimi lost track of what he said or what his body did. Hands roamed, gripped, and held, and Kimi felt his skin grow warm and then hot. He breathed in a lungful of Itachi’s scent: sweat, sex, expensive cologne, herbal shampoo. Kimi grabbed handfuls of hair and was careful to merely hold and not pull. Unsure but wanting; fearful but dying to please.

Twisting his head to brush harder into Kimimaro’s hand, Itachi hummed, sound rumbling his chest. “Dig your nails into my scalp and reach down to stroke my cock,” Itachi murmured against the column of Kimimaro’s neck.

“Yes, Master,” Kimi whispered and obeyed: nails digging and hand seeking. Itachi shuddered and then groaned when Kimimaro’s fist found him, and Kimi stroked him slowly, teasing the head and keeping his grip loose.

“Mm, perfect,” Itachi praised and his teeth sank into skin and he sucked hard, pulling an incoherent cry from Kimimaro. He involuntarily dug his nails deeper into the back of Itachi’s head, and teeth bit harder, making Kimi writhe.

“Yes, oh God…” Kimi whined.

“Stroke us both,” Itachi half-growled, moving to mark Kimi again. For too many seconds flesh and skin slip-slid out of Kimi’s grasp, making him grunt in frustration, but he got his fist around himself and Itachi, using his own precum to slick the slide. Panting filled the room: Kimi’s from an open mouth and Itachi’s from an elegant nose. It felt like Itachi’s lips were everywhere as they kissed and lapped at Kimimaro’s rapid-fire pulse, and he knew he cried out, said things, moaned…but it was all a melted jumble because every time Kimimaro tried to think, Itachi’s teeth found skin or his hips gave friction.

“Grip us harder, Kimimaro,” Itachi commanded, and Kimimaro wanted to thrash, but Itachi’s mouth held him still. There was no room for anything but sensation, and Kimimaro rolled his body into his hand and against Itachi. The Uchiha’s breathless noises made Kimi feel weak yet powerful, and when fingertips sought and then pulled on the bar through Kimi’s nipple, he jerked hard, sucking a harsh rasp through his teeth.

“Please, Master, oh – oh – please…”

“Please what, sweet boy?” Itachi asked, teeth dragging lightly over the metal rings in Kimimaro’s ear.

“Please fuck me, Master.” Kimimaro’s fingers dug into Itachi’s thick shaft, and Itachi grunted.

“Want my cock in your ass, do you?” Itachi husked, voice incinerating all thought and echoing through Kimi’s mind. Itachi lightly kissed Kimimaro’s cheek, tender.

“Yes, Master.” Rushed words, heavy with heartfelt ascent.

Itachi bit Kimimaro’s skin, behind his ear. “Want me to hold you down face-first in the mattress and pound you raw?”

“Yes. Master. Ooh, fuck…” Kimimaro’s hand slipped over his dick, which felt so damned hard he thought he’d scream.

“Stop stroking, roll over, get on your hands and knees,” Itachi ordered, raising up and sitting back on the bed. Immediately Kimimaro obeyed, arms shaking as he braced on all-fours. He panted, everything gone but the heat; the world centered on his cock and the urge to do anything Master said to do.

The mattress shifted, and Kimimaro caught his breath as he heard Itachi reach and roll the cart. He heard plastic tear and shivered.

“Spread your legs wider.”

Kimimaro obeyed the voice that sounded brittle and cold but made Kimi's blood raise to a boil.

“Reach around behind you and put two fingers into your ass.”

A sudden whine fueled by sheer avarice escaped Kimi’s lips, and his eyes closed as he balanced on one hand, other following the lines of his back as he complied. His fingertips glanced over his entrance, and he held his breath about to breach only to pause when Master shifted on the bed.

“Slowly,” Master said, hand touching and tracing Kimimaro’s forearm, stopping him momentarily. Kimimaro paused and gaped down at the bed as he felt Master’s hot breath against his ass and then palm. A tongue curled over Kimi’s two longest fingers and lips sucked, saliva coating as the wet heat withdrew. “I’m enjoying the view,” Itachi said, sounding amused.

“Oh God…oh God…” Kimimaro whispered.

“Let’s see you finger fuck yourself, sweet boy. Do it now.”

Kimimaro’s head fell forward, eyes closed and body tingling all over. He pushed the fingers inside himself - slowly as his Master asked - and felt some of the lube from the plug, earlier, and his walls flexed and clenched. Sounds spilled from his lips, he heard the cart again as Master got something else from it.

“Beautiful. Perfect. Stay just like that,” Itachi said. The bed shifted and Kimi looked down to watch Itachi’s hand caress Kimimaro’s balls, squeezing once and making him whimper a moan before the hand quested upward. It reached the bolts through the head of Kimimaro’s dick and toyed with them: did it like Master had watched Kimimaro play with himself and knew exactly what to do to drive him insane.

“Master – shit, please, fuck – I…” Kimimaro sucked in a breath and trembled all over when the tip of a finger slid over his slit and moved on to the other side, pulling on the end of the piercings from beneath the head of his cock. Kimimaro’s hips twitched, and he moaned.

“Shit, please, fuck, what, sweet boy?”

Master Itachi’s hand fell away, and Kimimaro’s mind tried to redline.

“Please fuck me,” Kimimaro begged. “Take me so hard I can’t breathe; shove me down into the bed and make me yours. Make it hurt. I don’t want anything but your cock in my ass and hands on my body, Master. Please…have mercy…”

Lips pressed a light kiss to Kimimaro’s lower back. “Beautiful, sweet boy…beautiful…” Another light kiss and a sadistic hum. “But not yet.”

Kimimaro’s whine ricocheted off the stone walls, and Master chuckled: a dark, delicious sound. “Slide your fingers in and out of that needy hole,” Itachi murmured. “Slowly.”

Obeying, Kimimaro’s arm shook hard, and he nearly fell to the mattress. Fingertips ghosted over the backs of his thighs, hypersensitive skin betraying Kimi and the urge to palm his cock was so fierce and swift it made him curse beneath his breath. The answering chuckle behind Kimi made it worse, and when a hand clamped around his wrist and helped him remove his fingers from his ass, Kimimaro cried out: “Please.”

“Rise up onto your knees.”

Shakily, Kimimaro obeyed, and arms wrapped around him, two hands immediately seeking his nipples and playing with the bars beneath the tender skin. Kimimaro’s hips bucked, cock knocking against his stomach and leaving a sticky trail linking belly to crown. Kimi’s head fell back on Itachi’s shoulder, mind blown to the four corners.

“I’ve seen you move on stage, and I wonder…” Itachi murmured, making Kimimaro writhe with his touch. “Can you stay kneeling and bend back to suck me, sweet boy?”

“Oh yes, Master…oh yes…” Kimimaro panted, eager, willing to forgo the feel of Master fucking him senseless if it meant Master’s cock between his lips. “I can do that for you, Master, with ease. Please…”

“Good,” Itachi said, breathily. He loosened his hold on Kimimaro and knee-walked backward on the bed. With Master’s hands on his skin, steadying and gentle, Kimimaro quickly bowed his spine in a contortionist’s arch: knees and shins still on the bed and giving him balance. Itachi’s hands moved to cup Kimimaro’s shoulders, and Kimi was grateful for the support.

In seconds, Kimimaro was upside down, backward and on eye-level with Itachi’s rigid cock. Kimi snaked his tongue from between his lips, lapping at the head once before elongating his spine to take Itachi into his mouth, a groan bubbling up Kimi’s throat and out his nose.

“Oh my God,” Itachi muttered, words shocked and delighted. Kimimaro shivered and worked tongue and lips, getting distracted as one of Itachi’s hands released Kimi’s shoulder and skimmed down Kimi’s chest and belly. Firm touch wrapped around Kimi’s cock and Kimimaro’s hands flew to brace on the bed and Itachi’s hip. The slow strokes on his skin, the fast breathing of the man above him, the flesh between his lips, the position, the night…everything crashed: a typhoon on a packed beach, and Kimimaro twisted, vision tunneling to a pinpoint of bright light. He didn’t feel long for this world, loved that more than he wanted oxygen, and need thrummed a frantic beat in his veins.

“Stop, now,” Master said, strained, and Kimimaro’s mouth fell away as he gasped for air. Somehow he got upright and then his cheek was pressed to the sheet. A firm body rested against his back and down one thigh, hip digging into his ass. He heard wet, slippery noises – condom on cock – and the click of a cap. Kimimaro couldn’t see, couldn’t hear over the sound of his own erratic breathing, and the soothing praise pouring from Master’s lips made him shiver, shake, groan.

“I love you willing and wanting with everything you have,” Master said, lining himself up – cock to entrance – and barely pausing as he pushed forward.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Kimimaro whined, hips bucking backward, seeking more of the stretch and fill. Kimimaro hissed and Master braced Kimi's hips, pausing and not passing into depth. He pulled back and then stroked into Kimi, shallow and slow. Kimimaro muffled a loud cry into the mattress and felt a hand grip the back of his neck: a press and hold.

“You’re incredible,” Master sighed as he worked his hips, and the muscles in Kimimaro’s stomach danced and twitched. He felt Master slide deeper and called out, lost and found.

“Yes,” Master said, grunting once in pleasure. “Just like that, Kimimaro. Let me hear you.”

Beyond words or thought, Kimimaro panted and moaned for the man who moved within him: deeper and thrusting, slow and methodical. Kimimaro had no idea how long it carried on, there was no sense of time, but he knew Master built a slow fire within Kimi’s body that raged all too soon. Kimimaro whimpered, turning and trying to press his face into the mattress. The hand on his neck gripped harder and braced, and Kimimaro’s breathing grew labored against the damp sheet. The crazed search for relief surged in Kimi’s veins, calling out a siren song to an ending not yet near.

Fingers found and pulled with steadily increasing pressure on his nipple, and Kimimaro half-screamed as the peak of the pull was punctuated by a harder thrust. Master rumbled a sound of controlled, vicious, pleasure and set the pace. Kimimaro felt used and taken and perfect, and he called out in toned cries with every stroke into his body. He got louder when Master rolled and shifted just so and the push and pull sought and rubbed over Kimimaro’s prostate. Release brewed but didn’t boil, and Kimimaro’s hands skimmed on the mattress, seeking something to grip and hang on to for dear life and sanity.

“Nnngh yeah…” Itachi gasped, and he bent over Kimimaro. Suddenly Kimi’s arms were pulled up and back, crossed, and one of Master’s hands slithered down to wrap and twist in Kimimaro’s hair while the other clamped onto Kimi’s wrists in a vice-like hold.

“Oh GOD…” Kimimaro called before getting lost in being so pinned. Moans filled his ears – both Kimi’s and Itachi’s – and it was heaven and hell to think it would never stop. Stroke after stroke made him feel like Master’s dick scraped his spine and nudged his throat, and it was bliss – made him hurt, it was so damned good – and Kimimaro ached to get off: shivered with the craving.

“Close, sweet boy?” Itachi rasped between exertions.

Kimimaro could only whine, hair damp and plastered to his skin, shoulders aching from the position, scalp on fire, neck bent on an odd angle, cock dribbling onto the sheet below.

“Want my touch to help you come?” The words were a teasing rumble; a nearly-rhetorical demand.

“Yes, oh-ooh God…oh please.” Kimimaro thrashed, hands holding him in place as he writhed with the firm thrusts that made him sob a cry. “Master, please…shit…fuck… let me come…Master, mercy…mercy…”

Itachi released Kimimaro’s arms, and they fell limply onto the bed with dulled thuds. A slick body covered Kimimaro’s, the hand in his hair tightening impossibly and made Kimi’s breathing hitch and hiccough.

“You’re gorgeous when you beg for what you want,” Master said, clearly, though his hips never faltered as he moved and spoke. Kimi’s eyes squeezed shut as light fingertips traced over his side and beneath him, circled the dermal, and then lightly touched the underside of his cock.

“Nnn-aah,” Kimimaro cried. “Please, please, please…” he chanted in broken whispers that pitched higher as Master traced piercings in seemingly idle exploration. The thrusts continued, the need raged and screeched, and when Master’s hand finally closed over skin and metal and stroked with purpose and pressure, Kimimaro froze, spine stiffening and vision going gray as orgasm ripped him in half. Cum hit the sheet with soft patters, and Master’s hand stroked again and again until Kimimaro cried out, pitiful and pained. Fingertips shifted to grip under Kimimaro’s body and dig into his shoulder, pulling back to go deeper as he thrust hard, harder, hardest and gasped at long last.

“Kimimaro…ooooh…” Master moaned, wanton and desperate, and Kimimaro shuddered with the body atop his as the spasms gripped, twisted, and finally relinquished their frenetic hold.

Heartbeats, breathing, and then Master swallowed and Kimimaro blinked, corners of his eyes damp. “Easy,” said the man on top of him, hand holding onto Kimimaro’s hipbone as Kimi half-fell down to the mattress, unmindful of the damp places on the sheet. Master followed the movement, staying on top and inside Kimi; finally resting in a sprawl. Steamy breath blew against Kimimaro’s neck, and he shivered, goose flesh rising on his arms.

Kimimaro roused when he heard and felt Itachi sigh and then slowly withdraw from Kimi’s body, one hand brushing Kimi’s backside as he held the condom in place. Not sure he could move even in dire circumstance, Kimimaro made a quiet sound of protest and received a kiss between his shoulder blades in response.

“Rest,” came the command, and Kimimaro gratefully and happily obeyed.

Sometime later, Kimimaro opened his eyes to find himself wrapped around Itachi, who lay on his back with his long neck tilted to one side. He snored once and fell silent again while Kimimaro watched and listened. Kimi placed a hand over Itachi’s chest, felt the heartbeat there, and then shut his eyes again, too tired and content to think much beyond the sweet exhaustion.

~*~