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Criminal	By : laurenloogie Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1431 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-massacre
- 2-ruthless
- 3-tsukiyomi
- 4-obvious
- 5-barracks
- 6-bind
- 7-luck
- 8-heat
- 9-break
- 10-grief
- 11-thin
- 12-creep
- 13-switch
- 14-rant
- 15-battles
- 16-capture
- 17-undisclosed
- 18-drugs
- 19-snake
- 20-infiltration
- 21-color
- 22-escape
- 23-used
- 24-possession
- 25-cold
- 26-trap
- 11
- 12
- 13
Warning: This chapter is nothing but hard yaoi, hooray! My only warning is that you MUST look at this picture I drew - http://laurenloogie.deviantart.com/art/fuguki-and-kisame-309186571 before reading any further. Kisame has a flashback where he bangs Fuguki (yah, Fuguki!) but it's not disgusting, I swear! Just... look at the pic and enjoy the smut.

Deidara stared blankly up at the night sky, his heart still pounding in his chest. Kisame had fainted a few minutes ago, collapsing rather gracefully onto the ground after having a stoic, wordless nervous breakdown. The blonde had never seen someone cry without expressing emotion - it had been like watching rain drip off the face of a statue. Yet the glimpse he had caught of the man's eyes had ran a chill down his spine. He'd heard that eyes were windows into the soul.... if this was true, Kisame's soul was somewhere in hell. Just in that tiny glimpse, he had seen things he was already wishing he hadn't. The man he idolized as a brutal, strong warrior had looked utterly lost, as if his life's course was no more than a strong tidal current, carrying him so far out to sea that the shore had vanished over the horizon long ago.
The fact that someone like Kisame had lost his direction chilled Deidara to the core. He wondered bleakly if he was doomed to the same fate - wandering about the fringes of society, branded as a criminal, until even his most solid beliefs crumbled beneath his feet. Since he'd been forced to join the Akatsuki, he hadn't thought much along these lines - frankly, it was terrifying. How does one accept that they have no future? He'd been clinging onto the vain perception that Kisame could somehow rescue him, sweeping him away like a knight in a fairytale, but now it was painfully clear that the swordsman was just as vulnerable as anyone else. He's only human, he thought bitterly. Knights in shining armor exist only in children's stories.
As he shifted his gaze down to Kisame's sleeping form, he cursed himself for being so selfish. Another thing that had become brutally apparent was the fact that the swordsman had been sexually assaulted by Itachi - the man's violent aversion to putting anything in his mouth couldn't possibly make the situation any clearer. The story was solidifying in his mind, becoming more graphic as the pieces came together... starting with an argument, escalating to a violent rape, then ending with Kisame beaten to shit and dying of hypothermia during one of the Land of Earth's notorious cold snaps.
The story went on in Deidara's head but it was too upsetting to continue. Had Itachi beaten Kisame before or after raping him? How did he rape him? Up the ass or just in the mouth? Did he use a genjutsu to subdue him? The sheer weight of the situation made him sick with anger... he felt as if he might start retching like Kisame had been doing earlier. When he remembered how violently the poor swordsman had gagged, guilt heated his cheeks. I shouldn't have forced him to take that fuckin' food pill, he thought listlessly, but damnit, he's starving himself! Honestly, he'd just been expecting the swordsman to take it willingly, which had wound up being an incredibly inaccurate assumption. He was lucky he'd planned for a worst-case scenario, although tying the man down with explosives and forcing him to do something traumatizing to his psyche made him feel like a borderline rapist. The fact that he'd gotten an erection (luckily, hidden by his cloak) from doing it didn't help, either. Kisame struggling helplessly beneath him, his eyes wide with fear, had sparked something sadistic in the blonde's gut... he'd felt a bizarre, violent urge to rip off the man's pants and fuck him until he cried. The fact that Kisame was so thin aroused him almost as much as it riled him - it made him look a lot less... impenetrable.
Damnit, what the fuck is the matter with me? he wondered. Maybe I'm just as bad as Itachi!
Kisame shifted and growled softly in his sleep, snapping the blonde out of his morbid introspect. He was glad the swordsman couldn't read his mind. In fact, he had a feeling that Kisame was so shitfaced, he wouldn't be able to read much of anything even if he was still awake. Here was another issue causing Deidara some guilt - he hadn't drank more than a sip of sake, faking getting drunk until the swordsman had consumed the entire bottle. But my intentions were good! he convinced himself for the millionth time. I thought if he got drunk, he'd be more willing to eat! And maybe even to screw...
Looking back on it, Deidara now realized that it had been an incredibly stupid idea. Kisame wouldn't have freaked out if he hadn't been wasted, he brooded. And now he's gonna wake up all pissed off with a hangover, wondering why his eyes are puffy. Luckily for now, the swordsman sure as hell wasn't about to wake up. It had been a strong bottle of sake, bordering on liquor, and Kisame had downed it on an incredibly empty stomach. Food pills were good for restoring stamina but they did nothing for alcohol tolerance - Deidara knew this from first-hand experience. Thanks to a diet of those fuckin' pills, I was shitfaced when I lost my virginity, he mused.
And then he was hit with a terrible epiphany that made his mind reel and his face hot. Kisame's out cold, he thought, biting his lip. I could... *do* things to him and he wouldn't wake up. Suddenly, he saw the swordsman's sleeping form in a different light, his eyes ravishing the lithe curves of his body in a lewd manner that he'd never allow himself while the man was watching. His cock grew hard so quickly it made him dizzy. If his ideas up until now had been stupid, this one was absolutely idiotic. Just the concept of molesting Kisame in his sleep made his skin crawl with disgust at his own imagination... but it also gave him a shiver of black excitement, too strong to resist.
Cautiously, he tested his theory. He called out Kisame's name a few times, softly at first then loudly. No reponse, not even a twitch. He poked the swordsman's shoulder, right in the sensitive gill marks. Still nothing. His hand trembled slightly as he ran his fingers lightly down his side, trying to elicit a telltale flinch that maybe he was somehow awake yet feigning sleep. But there was no response... no gooseflesh raised up on the hairless, smooth skin, no hitch in his breath. Unless Kisame was the best actor in the world, he was absolutely knocked out.
I am such a fuckin' hypocrite, he thought to himself. I shouldn't be doing this! But even his most valient efforts to dissuade himself weren't enough. His cock was already painfully hard, straining against his pants - he had to force himself to calm down before he spontaneously orgasmed. Considering how perversely intense his infatuation with Kisame had become, this was a considerable feat. When his head finally stopped spinning, he reached out and touched the swordsman again, resting his hand lightly on his exposed hip. Kisame was laying on his side, facing away... if he was awake, the position would be a slutty invitation to fuck. He held his breath and gave the swordsman's hip a rough squeeze, relishing in the way the taut skin felt in his grip. Dizzy with anticipation, he tried to be as quiet as possible as he shifted a little closer, propping himself up on one arm so that he was halfway laying down behind Kisame like he was getting ready to fuck him in the ass. He'd never topped anyone or anything before - not even a pillow - and just the fact that he was positioned this way would be enough in itself to give him a life supply of mental jerk-off material.
I should just stop at this, he told himself desperately, his eyes gazing hungrily at the small gap between his groin and the swordsman's ass. I should leave him alone and go masturbate. But his hand refused to listen, giving Kisame's hip another rough squeeze before sliding down to the curve of his lower back. This was as far as he'd ever explored - his sessions with the swordsman thus far had been so brief and furious that he'd never even copped a feel of his jaw-dropping, perfect ass. He'd only been able to ogle it and jerk off thinking about touching it. Well, now that I'm here, he told himself, I might as well...
He bit his lip to stifle a groan as his fingers toyed with the waistline of Kisame's pants, flirting with the idea. While it was tempting to just shove in his hand and grab a handful of bare ass, he forced himself to go slowly, running his fingertips over the fabric just enough so that he could feel the curves underneith. He paused when he reached the swordsman's thigh, dizzy with anticipation, then pressed his hand down and dragged it back up to the small of his back, letting his fingers sink between his asscheeks a little with the motion. A whispered curse escaped his lips - the urge to rub the tip of his cock against that delicious curve was nearly irresistable.
Kisame muttered something in his sleep and shifted again, nuzzling unconsciously against the blonde and his rock-hard erection until the two were pressed tightly together. For a minute, Deidara was too frightened even to breathe, literally scared stiff - the thought of the swordsman waking up to find a hard cock rubbing against his ass made his blood run cold with dread. But Kisame stayed KO'd, his chest rising and falling rythymically to back up the fact. Finally Deidara let out the breath he'd been holding and gasped for air, making way more noise than he would have if he'd just kept breathing in the first place. My dick is practically inside him, he realized with a pang of mingled lust and terror. If we weren't both wearing pants, it might have slipped in just now! The thought of his cock ramming mercilessly into Kisame's ass was so vivid and close to reality that he couldn't help but grind his hips a little, his hand finding the back of the swordsman's thigh and clutching it possessively. He could almost hear Kisame moaning and crying, almost see him whorishly moving his hips.
I'm such a fuckin' pervert, Deidara seethed as his cock bucked up against Kisame's ass. But why should I always have to be on the bottom? It's not fair! He slid his hand up to the swordsman's hip again, relishing in the way his pale fingers looked against the bare skin - the colors were bleached to white on grey in the moonlight. Then again, we've only screwed twice, he told himself. Maybe he'd like getting fucked... someday. When Itachi's dead at my feet.
The thought of fucking Kisame with Itachi's defeated corpse in view brought on the oncome of the most sinister orgasm he'd ever had. He bit his lip and pulled out his cock, stroking it furiously until he came onto the swordsman's lower back. When he was finally spent, he leaned over and planted a lingering, possessive kiss on the unconscious man's shoulder before carefully cleaning up his cum with the corner of his robe. It wasn't until all the evidence was gone that he realized he hadn't even copped a bare handful of ass. All I did was dry-hump him through our pants, he mused. Pathetic! But he supposed it was better that way... he'd played out his sadistic fantasy with barely any molesting, relatively speaking. It was still creepy - but then again, he was definitely a creep.
What he doesn't know won't hurt him, he justified as he shifted to a crouch. And at some point in the future, maybe I'll actually get to fuck him. Just as he began to rise to his feet, Kisame sighed and rolled onto his back, knocking him off balance. He fell onto his hands and knees, almost landing on his face in his shock. When he looked over at the swordsman, his eyes widened and a little snort of laughter escaped his lips. Kisame's cock was so hard it was threatening to bust out of his pants. I guess he liked getting pretend-fucked, he thought with a smirk. He rose to his feet again and quietly crept away - he didn't want to be anywhere near the swordsman when he woke up with a raging hangover.
* * *
Kisame was having a dream about Kirigakure. Even though nearly a decade had passed since he'd lived there, he still dreamt of it often, reliving both the good parts and the bad with chilling clarity. Sometimes he had nightmares about slaughtering his comrades - awakening gasping for air and covered in sweat - and other times his dreams were mundane reenactments of everyday life... cleaning his apartment, sparring in the training field, cooking food with mixed results. Tonight, however, he was dreaming of Fuguki Suikazan, which was a rare occurence. The man had been his mentor, his superior, and finally his victim, leaving him too embittered to allow the memories to take him over, even in his dreams. But now he was remembering every detail of his experiences with the man with painful clarity - especially a certain part that he had kept secret over the years, to the point where it had become closer to fiction than fact in his own mind. For some reason, the veil he had cast over the memories had been pulled from his subconscious, revealing a scene so raw and vivid it made his skin prickle in his sleep.
"...Still bothers me," Fuguki was saying. It was dark out and Kiri's signature mist cover was thicker than usual, muting sight and sound to where everything seemed surreal and faded. Kisame was trying to pay attention to his mentor but wasn't having much luck - he was exhausted and mildly irritated. Walking through Kiri's deserted streets at night was something he preferred to do alone... it was annoying that Fuguki had insisted on escorting him home. The older man had been doting on him recently, buying him dinner after missions and talking to him more than usual. In the past, he'd always been a cold and utterly ruthless person, which Kisame preferred to... whatever this was. It was a lot easier not to think of him as a human being, with fears, ambitions and passions. Shinobi weren't supposed to percieve one another in such a way - it was unprofessional. The fact that Fuguki was letting his humanity leak out around him was both obnoxious and rather suspicious - the man never did anything unless there was some underlying scheme.
"You're not listening to me at all, are you?" Fuguki growled, cutting off his train of thought.
"No," Kisame stated blandly, glancing up at the riled expression on his superior's face. "I told you, I'm tired." Although he still talked formally around Fuguki, addressing him as senpai, he'd been having no problem recently with letting his cold personality show.
"You forget your place," Fuguki muttered, plainly aggravated with his tone, yet he didn't emphasize the statement by hitting him - a backhand to the face was the way most Kiri superiors reprimanded an underling who talked too casually. The fact that this physical abuse had been absent lately only added to the list of suspicious behavior.
Kisame sighed and lowered his eyes when they reached the doorstep to his apartment. "I'll see you in the morning," he growled, placing his hand on the doorknob. When Fuguki made no move to leave, he rolled his eyes with exasperation. "What do you want?" he asked curtly. "If you're going to ask me for a favor, just spit it out."
In the mist-shrouded moonlight, Fuguki's face looked beautiful yet utterly terrifying. Back then, he was the kind of man that could make a woman swoon just by indulging her with a glance - his ethereal appearance and infamous reputation had earned him enough fans to constitute a brothel. When he placed a hand over Kisame's, the younger man's heart raced despite his best efforts to remain aloof. "Didn't you recently turn eighteen?" he asked after a pause.
"That's what it says in my files," Kisame growled. Since he was an orphan, his age and birthday were little more than educated guesses scribbled in Kiri's records. "But you should already know that," he muttered, trying to ignore the fingers that were lightly massaging his wrist. "What are you getting at?"
Fuguki's fingers tightened painfully around his wrist, making him inhale sharply and bite his lip. "Don't play dumb," he snarled, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've known for a long time what I want." His fingers relaxed as quickly as they had tightened, as if he was keeping himself in check. "You're legal now," he stated quietly. "And I'll pay you."
For a brief moment, Kisame found himself unable to respond. He was well aware of the fact that Fuguki had a taste for younger men - all the women in Kiri would screw him in a heartbeat and yet he shunned them, setting his sites on male prostitutes instead. The fact that his superior helped fuel the village's plague of sex trafficking was despicable. An orphan himself, (most people with 'demon' in their names weren't raised by loving parents) he must have been exposed to it to some degree as a child - those deemed unfit for the ninja academy were often swept into a life of prostitution against their will. It was a brutal yet undeniable reality of Kirigakure and also one of the reasons Kisame had trained so hard to become a shinobi. I've worked day and night to become one of the most feared jounin in Kiri, he told himself, and Fuguki's asking me to be his whore?! The situation was so degrading it made him want to punch the man's teeth out but he somehow managed to hold back the urge.
"You have a million whores you can screw," he finally said, his voice lowered. He tried to pull his hand out of Fuguki's grasp but his mentor's grip was like steel. "Let me go," he hissed.
"I don't want to force you," Fuguki said, his narrow eyes glinting. The statement sounded like a roundabout way of saying 'I'm not giving you a choice.' Something had appeared in his free hand; Kisame reluctantly focused on it to find that it was a sizeable roll of cash. He winced a little when the older man twisted his wrist and placed the roll in his palm.
"Goddamnit," he said weakly, his face hot. He caught a glimpse of the markings on the bills - it was a ton of dough. Fuguki was prepostrously wealthy and wasn't afraid to flaunt the fact to get what he wanted. Kisame wanted to believe that money couldn't buy happiness but as he glared at the large sum, he realized that perhaps he was mistaken. "This is ridiculous," he scowled, closing his fingers around the cash. When he pulled his hand away this time, Fuguki released his grip, grinning widely.
"I knew you'd come around," the older man said, watching Kisame quickly shove the money into his pocket.
"I'm broke, you asshole," Kisame muttered, dropping his formalities entirely. And it was true - for a jounin of his rank and stature, his income was surprisingly scarce. The irony that Fuguki was probably the one skimming his pay didn't escape him. Perhaps he's been taking a cut all these years just to ensure I'd do this, he seethed. The idea sounded insane but considering his superior's scheming nature, it wasn't implausible. On top of it all, the man also had the upper hand of knowing the nature of the missions that Kisame carried out. If he really wanted to, he could spill the beans to everyone and make his protege out to be a bloodthirsty lunatic who killed his comrades just for the hell of it. Although Fuguki was the one who gave the orders, his reputation and sly tongue would no doubt doubt leave him in the clear. With this in mind, the wad of cash was just a silent way of saying, 'I don't want it to come to that... although it could.'
He cursed himself for being so pragmatic as he opened the door to his apartment and sullenly motioned for Fuguki to enter.
"You go first," his senpai said with a smirk. "I'm afraid you might stab me in the back." The expression on his face was nothing less than sinister as he watched the younger man scowl and enter before him.
When they were both inside, Fuguki and Samehada's collective bulk made the small space seem even more cramped. Kisame's efficiency was tiny - one room with a bed, dresser and kitchenette crammed together, and a bathroom the size of a closet.
"What a dump," Fuguki muttered, unshouldering Samehada and leaning it against a wall.
Kisame rolled his eyes as he rummaged through a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of sake. "If you don't like it, then get out," he growled as he hastily uncorked the bottle. "Fuckin' asshole."
"What happened to calling me senpai?" Fuguki asked as he took a seat on the twin-sized bed, a bemused expression on his face.
Kisame closed his eyes as he took a huge slam of sake, wishing the man would just disappear. "There's no way I'm calling you senpai tonight," he said under his breath, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Unless you want to pay me extra."
Fuguki actually seemed to ponder this for a moment, as if forcing young men to address him as 'master' or 'teacher' during sex was something he had done before. "I guess I'll let it slide, then," he mused. "But I do want you to share that sake with me. Since when do you even drink?"
"Since never," Kisame growled as he handed over the bottle. "This was a birthday gift. I don't waste my money on... debauchery."
Fuguki looked a little irked as he took a sip. "Enough with the insults," he said curtly. "Now go take a shower. You're filthy."
Kisame cursed softly, his face hot. "I need another drink," he sighed, skittishly snatching away the bottle and taking another slam. He flinched when Fuguki ran a hand over his hip, squeezing it lightly before pulling away. It was impossible to tell whether the older man was erect under his robes but the hungry expression on his face suggested that he was.
After he handed back the bottle, he slipped into the bathroom and showered, gazing numbly at the grime from a day's worth of difficult training swirling into the drain. It was hard to accept that any of this was happening, although he wasn't exactly shocked. He'd known Fuguki since he was thirteen and had always been painfully aware that the man was attracted to him. The fact that he'd waited until he was eighteen was a mild sign of respect he supposed he should be grateful for - the unfortunate whores he fucked didn't have the same luxury. Fuguki's such a fuckin' pervert, he seethed as he turned off the water and dried himself off. But at least he's attractive. There's no way I could do this if he was... *fat* or something. He glanced in the small mirror above the sink, scowling bitterly at his reflection, before wrapping the towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom.
Fuguki was still sitting on the bed, although he had let down his hair and shed his clothes down to just his pants. Kisame found himself briefly ogling the older man's body - he was insanely tall yet slender, his build suprisingly lithe for someone who wielded such a heavy sword. Fuguki always hid his form with his robes... perhaps it was to hide the fact that he was so effeminate. When Kisame realized he was mildly turned on, he blushed and looked down at the floor.
"Come here," Fuguki growled, setting the sake on the dresser by the bed. "I'm not paying you to act shy." When Kisame hesitantly stepped closer to the bed, the older man roughly grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto his lap, making him bite his lip to stifle a curse. "Is this your first time being with a man?" he asked softly, leaning back onto one arm as he toyed with the towel wrapped around the younger man's waist.
Kisame found himself unable to speak, managing only a weak nod. He could feel Fuguki's erection pressed against his ass - the man's cock felt enormous.
"What about Zabuza?" Fuguki pried, lightly biting Kisame's earlobe. "I see you two together a lot."
"We've never... gone all the way," Kisame breathed, his heart beating quickly. He and Zabuza had made out a few times after sparring, finding eachother strangely aroused from the intimacy of battle. It had left them both confused and flustered, afraid to take things any further. Being with another man was something Kisame always figured would happen gradually - it was so much more serious than screwing a woman for some reason. Yet as Fuguki's fingers ran up his bare chest then slid over his lips, he realized bitterly that there would be nothing gradual about it. He stifled a moan when Fuguki slipped a few fingers into his mouth, fighting the urge to bite down.
"You were born with sharp teeth, weren't you?" Fuguki murmured as he explored Kisame's mouth, running his fingers curiously over his teeth before pushing in further. Kisame groaned and nodded, both humiliated and aroused by the intrusion. "They're so sharp," the taller man mused. "Mine were filed when Samehada was passed down to me... you know the tradition." He bit down a little harder on Kisame's ear, eliciting another breathless moan. "See... they're not as sharp," he said softly. "Although they still pierce skin fairly easily." He retracted his fingers and twisted Kisame's head to the side, forcing their eyes to meet. For a moment he just stared at the younger man, his gaze reminiscient of the way people admired paintings and sculptures, before gently pressing their mouths together.
Kissing Fuguki was much different than anything in Kisame's past experience - the older man went slower than he was used to and displayed a calm restraint, taking his time to tease Kisame's lips with his teeth before gradually slipping in his tongue. Everything he did, from the way he languidly explored the younger man's mouth to the fingers that ran lightly up and down his back, was deliberate and calculated. When he finally pulled away, Kisame was breathless and incredibly flustered, his face on fire. His cock was painfully hard already, throbbing uncomfortably against the towel wrapped around his waist. He cursed under his breath, embarrassed, and adjusted it through the fabric in a feeble attempt to make it go away.
"Stand up," Fuguki said softly.
Kisame cursed again and reluctantly obeyed, so weak-kneed that he staggered a little in the process. When he tried to cover up his erection with his hands, Fuguki clicked his tongue and batted them away, his eyes fixated on the younger man's cock.
"Take off the towel," he commanded.
"I'm not-"
"Did I say you could talk?" Fuguki snapped. "Just take it off!"
I'm not comfortable with that, Kisame finished in his head. He scowled, furious, and grudgingly pulled the towel from his waist, letting it drop to the floor. When Fuguki motioned for him to step closer, he bit his lip to supress another outburst. This was degrading enough without the man snapping at him. An unwanted shiver ran down his spine as Fuguki leaned forward and lightly ran his tongue around his navel, his hands gliding up his bare thighs before resting gently on his hips. There was something about the man's tender way of lovemaking that was more degrading than the rough treatment he had been expecting. It seemed to make a mockery of genuine compassion.
"You have a big cock," Fuguki stated, pausing briefly from his ministrations to look up at Kisame. "Has anyone sucked you off before?"
Kisame shrugged, beside himself with embarrassment. When his superior's fingers suddenly dug into his hips, he winced and stammered, "A girl, once. But she started choking on it and gave up." Apperently the answer was satisfactory because Fuguki relaxed his fingers and returned his attentions to Kisame's cock. His patience seemed infinite as he gently grabbed the base and slid his hand up the shaft, pausing to rub the tip with his thumb before slowly sinking back down. Kisame groaned and bucked his hips a little, wishing sullenly that the man would just go faster. The quicker they both came and got this over with, the better. He's obviously trying to get his money's worth, he seethed bitterly.
His train of thought faded when Fuguki took the head in his mouth, his narrow, piercing eyes half-lidded. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive underside then began to work his way down, taking the length into his throat without the slightest sign of discomfort. There was no scrape of sharp teeth, no gagging... no watering of the eyes or mouth. Kisame briefly remembered a certain type of training that involved killing the nerves in the throat so that a shinobi could painlessly swallow a scroll containing important information and cough it back up later. This training was discontinued before Kisame became a shinobi because the methods of nerve-killing were deemed too cruel even for Kiri - perhaps some sort of branding, although he wasn't sure. As Fuguki's lips reached the base of his shaft, he wondered if the man had been subjected to it when he was young... it would explain a lot, including his rough, growling voice. Or maybe he's just sucked a lot of dick, he thought.
Sadistic nerve killing or not, Fuguki definitely knew what he was doing. Kisame found himself near orgasm surprisingly quickly, his hands clenching at his sides. He wanted to grab the older man's auburn hair to make him go quicker but somehow restrained the urge - he had no desire to feel a warning scrape of sharp teeth on his dick. When he finally came, he had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from crying out. The orgasm was frustrating, over too quickly it seemed, and it left him panting and humiliated. As Fuguki pulled away with a contemplative expression on his face, Kisame wondered if it was possible for someone to be too good at head. It sounded ludicrous but the older man's ministrations had been so professional and routine - about as intimate as polishing a katana. He wasn't even out of breath! The experience made him feel like a tool in a whole new light.
"Get on the bed," Fuguki growled, "and lay on your back."
Kisame sighed and took another slam of sake before complying, his hands shaking slightly. He knew what was coming next and no amount of booze in the world would be enough to calm his nerves. Suddenly he was wishing he hadn't accepted the money... it just didn't seem worth it anymore. It took him every ounce of willpower he had to lay himself down - his body was nearly to the point of bolting animalistically. When Fuguki leaned over him, pinning him under his long limbs, he felt like he might have a panic attack.
"You're hyperventilating," the older man stated, sounding mildly annoyed. "Compose yourself."
"I really don't want to-"
Fuguki stopped him mid-sentence with a sharp backhand to the jaw, making him cut his tongue on his teeth. "Don't speak to me unless spoken to," his superior stated bluntly.
Kisame winced and coughed a mouthful of blood onto his pillow, his head ringing. The blow hurt far more in his state of panic that it would have otherwise - he'd been hit by Fuguki a million times on the training field without so much as a flinch. He barely even noticed when the older man took his hand and guided it down to his erection, making his fingers curl around it through his pants. His superior's cock was bizarrely big, slightly longer and thicker than his own. As the hand over his guided his fingers up and down the shaft, he feebly cursed his shitty luck. He'd been hoping it would be small.
"Take it out of my pants," Fuguki growled softly, pulling his hand away. Kisame reluctantly obeyed, his head spinning from the backhand as he undid a few snaps and slid in his fingers. His breath hitched when he touched Fuguki's bare cock - it was hard as steel and so thick that his fingers barely even met around its girth. Skittishly, he pulled it out, looking off to the side. He had no desire to see the thing, especially since he knew where it was going.
"Now stroke it while I get you ready," his superior said. "And look at it while you do it."
Get me ready? Kisame wondered, forcing his eyes to focus on Fuguki's cock. What the hell does that mean? He had no experience with fucking or getting fucked in the ass... he didn't even know that there was a way to 'get ready' for such a thing. He glared dully at his mentor's pale cock as his blue fingers slid mechanically up and down the shaft, trying to imagine that he was somewhere else. When he completed a morally questionable mission, he was adept at aquiring a 'fly on the wall' view of his own actions, passively watching himself commit unforgiveable atrocities as if he was little more than an actor on a screen. It was the only way he could follow through with a lot of the screwed up shit he did. As good as he was at this, he just couldn't manage to enter that detached frame of mind now - he was unable to leave his naked, slutty body as it pleasured Fuguki for money. Every detail was painfully acute, from his hand bobbing up and down his mentor's shaft to his own light blue cock, already half-hard again for reasons he couldn't pinpoint. When he saw the older man wet his fingers with his mouth, he tensed and shuddered, beside himself with dread and shame.
"Let go of my cock, Kisame," Fuguki suddenly hissed, baring his sharp teeth. "Your grip is too tight." Embarrassed, Kisame mechanically willed his hand to open and drop to his side - he was so nervous that his muscles felt spring-loaded. When his superior's slick fingers slipped between his legs and pressed up against his ass, he cringed animalistically, bumping his head against the wall behind the bed. "You need to relax," the older man growled, grabbing his hip to hold him in place as he rubbed the spot in a way that made a shiver run down his spine. "If you stay tense, you'll just end up hurting yourself."
I'm not the one hurting myself, Kisame said silently, watching his his body tremble under Fuguki's ministrations. You are. When his mentor's index finger slid into his ass, he grated his teeth to prevent himself from crying out. It was surprisingly painful and by the time it was in to the knuckle, he was panting and shivering, his breath coming in ragged gasps. No wonder he has to pay for sex, he thought hysterically. Who would do this willingly?!
"Damnit," Fuguki breathed, wincing slightly. "I told you to relax!" He leaned over and grabbed the sake with his free hand, taking a quick drink before impatiently making Kisame take it. "Drink the rest of this," he growled. "Clearly, you're too nervous to do this sober!"
Kisame weakly held up the bottle to see how much was left - it was still half full. Coerced by the furious expression on his superior's face, he raised himself up onto one elbow and began to slam the contents. It was too much to drink in one gulp but Fuguki grabbed the end of the bottle and tilted it up before he could lower it, making him keep going. By the time it was empty, he was choking and sputtering, his head spinning and his eyes watering. He cursed feebly and flopped back down onto the bed, letting the bottle drop to the floor. He felt like he might throw up. As the sake blurred and numbed his senses, he barely even noticed that Fuguki's finger had started sliding in and out of his ass. The sensation no longer hurt, although it was still vaguely uncomfortable. There was something else too - a mild pleasure with each thrust. He groaned deleriously and bucked his hips a little, impatient all of a sudden. When Fuguki slipped in another finger, he found himself eager for it.
"I told you it would hurt less if you relaxed," Fuguki muttered. He leaned over and nipped the younger man's neck, teasing the sensitive area with his tongue and teeth. Kisame slurred a curse as the fingers crammed inside him increased their pace. His anxiety was waning due to the sake, leaving a dizzy lust in its wake - he was surprised at his own actions as he reached down and grabbed Fuguki's cock again, stroking it lightly. The older man tensed briefly, expecting another death-grip, then growled a curse and pulled out his fingers. "Put it in," he breathed.
Kisame's body seemed to belong to someone else as he guided the tip of Fuguki's cock to his ass - the sake was making him act even more like a whore, it seemed. When he found the spot, his mentor groaned and bit his lip, then pushed gently until the head slipped in. Kisame cursed loudly, shocked at how painful it was. What was the point of using his fingers if it's still going to hurt?! he seethed. Fuguki paused for a moment before pushing in more and rolled his eyes when the younger man screamed again.
"Shut the hell up," he hissed. "These walls are paper-thin!" He clamped a hand over Kisame's mouth and continued to force in his cock... by the time he was in to the hilt, the younger man was trembling, his face flushed. He gave Kisame's head a rough shake before finally releasing his grip. "Another sound from you and I'll knock you senseless!" he grated quietly.
For a minute the two just glared at eachother, seething for their own seperate reasons as Kisame adjusted to the feel of Fuguki's cock. It didn't take long - he was so hammered that within moments he'd nearly forgotten how much it had hurt. He glanced down at himself and rolled his eyes when he noticed that his cock was fully erect, pressing up against the older man's stomach. Humiliated, he shot his superior a sullen look as if to say, fuckin' get on with it!
"I swear," Fuguki muttered under his breath before complying, moving just slightly as if expecting another outburst. But Kisame managed to keep quiet, biting his lip as he bucked his hips impatiently. When his superior aquired a careful rythym, gently sliding his cock in and out, he felt that same wave of pleasure he'd felt before, except this time it was more intense, making him gasp and squirm with each thrust. It was obvious that Fuguki was using a fair amount of restraint to go so slowly. The result was painless yet maddening.
"Go faster," he panted, wincing in anticipation of another backhand.
"Don't tell me what to do," Fuguki growled. But he was almost eager as he began to thrust more quickly - also there was no backhand, as if he'd momentarily forgotten his own rules. The slip-up in authority made Kisame wonder how much more he could get away with. He never said anything about touching, he told himself. Too drunk and horny to ponder the consequences, he reached up and grabbed Fuguki's hips, urging him to slam in deeper. His mentor's breath hitched and there was barely a moment's hesitation before he relented, pulling his cock out to the tip and slamming it back in with each thrust. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he breathed.
Kisame's response was a gasp and a shiver - his superior's ridiculously large cock was hitting that spot inside him now even harder, making his senses tingle with the verge of an orgasm completely different than any he'd had before. He slid his hands up to Fuguki's back and twined his fingers into the man's auburn hair, relishing in how luxurious it felt - being able to touch his mentor at will only fueled his lust. A moan escaped Fuguki's lips as he leaned over and furiously kissed the younger man, crushing their mouths together with none of his previous restraint. And then all inhibitions were lost as the two neared climax - suddenly it was a blur of hands wildly groping skin, tongues fucking, bodies tangled together. When Kisame felt himself begin to cum, he clamped his legs around Fuguki's waist and furiously writhed his hips, grinding the man's cock until he spilled his seed all over both their stomachs. Fuguki followed seconds later with a shudder, burying his face in the crook of the younger man's neck to muffle a loud curse.
For a while after that, both men were too exhausted to move. Kisame's hands were still on Fuguki's back and he could feel the older man's heart beating quickly as he caught his breath. Delerious and utterly spent, he could hardly believe that his superior had given him such an intense orgasm - he wondered if the degradation of fucking for money had been a turn-on in itself. He supposed that he'd also been hiding from himself the fact that he was infatuated with Fuguki. It was difficult to accept that he was attracted to such a perverted piece of shit. I must be some sort of masochist, he thought to himself. It was a disturbing thought but he was too tired to let it bother him. For now, the feel of his mentor's heart beating and chest rising and falling was strangely serene, somehow more intimate than the sex had been. When the man finally lifted himself up and slowly pulled out his cock, Kisame was almost disappointed.
"I'm going to use your shower," Fuguki murmured, looking dazed as he sluggishly rose to his feet. Kisame just shrugged in response - earlier he'd thought that he'd enjoy kicking the jerk out of his apartment the second the deed was done, but now he wasn't sure what he wanted. He watched his mentor put up his long hair with a few pins and walk stiffly into the bathroom, the hand on his hip suggesting maybe he'd pulled something during the sex. The man had barely turned thirty but he moved and acted like a bitter old kurmudgen twice his age. It was obvious that his hedonistic lifestyle was beginning to take its toll.
After Fuguki disappeared into the bathroom, Kisame sighed and scratched his stomach only to find his hand in a puddle of his own cum. Damnit, he thought listlessly. I guess I need a shower, too. He waited for his mentor to finish showering, trying not to fall asleep, then stumbled to his feet when the water finally turned off. Fuguki emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking half-asleep himself, and plodded past the younger man to the bed, where he promptly laid himself back down.
"You're not sleeping here," Kisame muttered, trying to look pissed off even though he really wasn't.
"Fuck you, Kisame," Fuguki growled. "I'm too tired to walk home. Can't feel my damn legs." Met with silence, he sighed and added, "I'll pay you extra."
"Ugh, fine," Kisame relented. He dragged himself into the shower and swayed drunkenly under the spray of water for a few minutes, then toweled himself off and returned to the bed. It was only a twin-size and Fuguki was taking up the whole thing with his sprawling limbs. "Move over," he sighed. "I'm not sleeping on the floor."
Fuguki rolled onto his side, making a bit of space. "Shut up and lay down," he muttered, his eyes half-lidded. Kisame reluctanly complied, squeezing onto the edge of the bed. His breath hitched when the older man wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, so that they were pressed together back to chest. For a second the intimacy was almost too much - he'd never slept so close to someone before - but his anxiety quickly waned to an odd feeling of comfort. Being held this way felt... nice. He fell asleep in mere minutes, nestling into his mentor's embrace.
* * *
He awoke with cum on his hands and palm fronds scratching his back, groping blindly for his senpai's comforting warmth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, whaddya think? Did you enjoy the smut? Hopefully you're not still envisioning Fuguki as a gross... *pufferfish.* And Deidara's quite the creep, no? Copping feels and jerking off onto poor, unsuspecting Kisame! Anyways, this chapter was supposed to be a break from all the drama I've been spewing out lately. I also realize that now I'm gonna have to go back and change a bunch of crap about Kisame never being with a dude before Deidara, ha! He just keeps getting gayer in my head. Well, hope you enjoyed it! And please leave a comment! >o<
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