Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

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
- 22
- 23
- 24
Warning - I don't know. This chapter's just kinda bizarre. Hetero and yaoi smut, plus some weird hurt/comfort type shit. You have been warned, although for what, I'm not even sure, lol!
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Sasori spent the entire night tending to his comrades, pacing back and forth between the rooms like a parent with a couple of sick children. After hearing the news about Kisame, Deidara had spent the next hour slumped over the toilet bowl, crying and vomiting simultaneously. When he was finally drained both emotionally and physically, he had collapsed onto the bathroom floor, too exhausted to weep anymore. Sasori had gathered him up and taken him back to the bedroom, where he'd gently tucked him into bed. As far as he could recall, he'd never done anything gentle in his life. He found it somewhat disturbing that being kind was coming so naturally to him.
The same went for Kisame - Sasori put wet cloths on the swordsman's forehead to ease his fever and covered him up with blankets when he shivered from a chill. The man's breathing had returned to normal which was a good sign, although it was hard to say whether or not he'd make a full recovery at this point. All Sasori could really do was wait and hope for the best. If he was a medic, there was a chance he'd be able to directly remove some of the poison... but unfortunately, he was about as far from a medic as a shinobi could possibly be. Lacking a sense of touch restricted him to basically just guessing at Kisame's symptoms and reacting in a way that he thought might help. So damp cloths and blankets were about the extent of the treatment. He remembered when he came down with the flu as a kid, Granny Chiyo would ease his fever in the same way, so hopefully it was having some effect on Kisame. Sasori hoped so... because if it wasn't, it would be embarrassing to think that he was doting on the bastard for no reason.
Whatever, he thought. Not like he knows what I'm doing anyway. Kisame was probably off in another world right now, emerged in delirious fever dreams. Sasori wished he could take a peek inside the man's head to see what he was dreaming about. Considering all the shit the swordsman had been through both recently and throughout his lifetime, it was probably something really fucked up. Murder, sex, betrayal. Like a smutty horror film. He was sure that Kisame probably had more screwed up memories than ten shinobi put together.
He should write a damn autobiography, Sasori mused. If he lives, that is.
* * *
When people have near-death experiences, their life often flashes before their eyes. Regrets, ambitions, the good parts and the bad. In just a few short seconds, one's existence is bluntly summarized. This is who I am. This is what I've done. Someting akin to this was happening to Kisame but since he was unconscious, the flashbacks were entire scenes, playing out in what felt like real time. Days, weeks, months, as if he was reliving his entire fucked up life.
For a while he was a kid again, scrounging a living unloading cargo from Kiri's docks. Ships would come down the river with supplies and he'd hustle up and down the planks, arms full of crates and packages. He was only seven years old when he got that job and he'd been painfully aware that most other kids his age didn't even know what the hell a job was. Pay, rent, tax. All these words became part of his vocabulary when normal kids were still attached to their mother's side. While he was haggling with the captains over his fee, other children were haggling with their parents for a bigger allowance so they could go buy dango or whatever it was that kids ate. Kids were supposed to eat sweets, apparently... but Kisame barely had enough cash to eat millet. He was tall and unusually strong for his age but he was skinny as hell, constantly dealing with hunger pangs like they were a natural part of growing up.
When was the first time he'd tried dango? It was hard to pinpoint but he'd been well into his teens. It had been too sweet and he'd ended up only taking a few bites, wishing he hadn't wasted his money. It's all sugar, he'd thought crossly. No wonder kids get fat!
His difficult life had made him into a bitter kid. He was extremely antisocial, especially once he got his own apartment at age eight. Moving out of the orphanage was something he supposed was a milestone in his life but he'd felt no sentimentality whatsoever. He was glad to be out of that hellhole full of crying, messed up kids and he hadn't even said goodbye to the assholes who had neglectfully cared for him all those years. What do you even say? Thanks for beating me and starving me? The scars on his back from brutal, unnecessary whippings were enough of a reminder. The only good thing he'd taken away from that place was a crash-course in self-defense, paired with an ability never to cry... because crying meant getting whipped, of course. In fact, this abuse had been the catalyst that had caused him to leave. The last time someone had tried to beat him, he'd lashed out and kicked the fucker right in the groin. The man had slumped to the ground and Kisame had kicked him several more times until blood was pouring from his mouth. He'd ended up hospitalized from internal hemmoraging and Kisame had left the next day of his own will. While the authorities couldn't exactly reprimand him for defending himself, it was clear that he'd worn out his welcome. All for the better. Fuck that place! He'd been saving up for an apartment anyway so it was a good excuse to finally take the step and leave.
Once moved into his apartment, some of the kids from the orphanage had come to his doorstep, begging to move in. He'd curtly told them to fuck off and get a job before slamming the door in their face. He had no desire to share his hard-earned space with freeloaders... he just wanted to be alone.
And so he was. Human beings were normally social animals but after years in such close quarters with other kids, Kisame became an anomaly. He didn't want to be around anyone. When he was at work, he avoided conversation as much as possible, speaking only when necessary. And in his free time, he dutifully studied and trained, using his isolation as efficiently as possible. Even before entering the ninja academy, he educated himself in the art of combat, venturing out to the training field to observe shinobis' fighting styles. While he was too young and inexperienced to join in with anyone, there was a lot to be learned just from witnessing the various techniques. He also found that many shinobi would lose their kunai and shuriken in the heat of sparring... after they left the field, he'd sneak about and gather them up. Over time, he acquired an arsenal of used weapons, which he used day and night in his own isolated training.
By the time he entered the ninja academy, he was genin-level, at least. His teachers hadn't understood how he was so proficient at combat and when he'd told them he simply taught himself, they hadn't even believed him. Apparently, self-motivation at such a young age was just unheard of. But then again, so was working a full-time job and paying rent. In return, Kisame thought it was ridiculous that his peers didn't have to pay their own way in life. Freeloaders, all of them! Even talking to them was like talking to... aliens. He didn't understand them and couldn't make any associations to the way they lived and felt. Since empathy was frowned upon in the school, he decided that this was an asset rather than a weakness. As a result, he made absolutely no effort to befriend his classmates. Girls thought he was mysterious and boys despised him... but regardless of gender, there was an overlying fear that when the graduation came, they'd have to fight him. And it was glaringly obvious that whoever he ended up fighting, he'd kill without batting an eye.
Luckily for the stronger children, the graduation was set up so that the weak were culled from the herd, so to speak. The teachers would pair up teams of three to battle eachother - one strong kid against two weak kids. Sometimes they'd even stop the fights after just one weakling was slain out of the three... other times, they'd let the battle ensue until there was only one victor. It just depended on the students. In Kisame's case, he'd slain his two nervous classmates before the teachers could even intervene. They barely had time to put up a fight before his katana had been soiled with their blood. Weaklings, both of them! And the Village of the Bloody Mist had no use for weaklings.
Lacking parents, Kisame sought approval from Kirigakure itself. He wanted to be acknowledged, praised, verified as an asset. To him, the village was like a neglectful parent whom he had to win adoration from. It wasn't even a desire for a more comfortable life... it was simply a desire to be needed. That was the entire reason he'd trained so hard and separated himself from his peers... he wanted to be perceived as useful, like a sharp weapon at the Mizukage's side, ready to be wielded.
When Fuguki became his superior, his desire was fulfilled, just not in a way he'd been expecting. His lack of empathy and combat skills made him an immediate candidate for the Black Ops... although his operations weren't even written down in Kiri's logs. There were people from his own village that frowned upon the Mizukage's reign and it became his job to assassinate them in the most discreet way possible. Figureheads who were planning to usurp, shinobi who plotted to rebel, anyone who posed a threat to the village's safety.
In time, he thought it ridiculous that the village leaders held the title of Kage, as he was the real shadow - silent, unseen, lethal. He lived a double life. Most of the time, he was a typical shinobi, accompanying his comrades on legitimate missions... but on an occasional night, he was an assassin with no name or identity. His abnormal blue hair and skin even forced him to take things one step further and literally turn himself into a moving shadow. He'd disguise himself with black garments from head to toe - balaclava, long-sleeved shirt, fingerless gloves. He'd dip his fingers in ink so that no one would witness even a hint of blue. There were no Kiri emblems on these garments, nothing to entail his loyalties or origins. When he killed a rebel in the cloak of night, the only thing they saw was a thin, black form straying from the shadows just long enough to slit their throats and cover their mouths so they couldn't scream.
The murders were always in the news the next day, distorted as attacks by enemy villages. And while Kisame knew in his heart that his missions were necessary, he couldn't help but wonder whether he was an enemy. If Kirigakure was a parent, it was a twisted, horrible person. A cannibal. But regardless of how screwed up one's parents were, the child couldn't help but love them. He loved Kiri, in all its fucked up grandeur. And when he was washing his fingertips of blood and ink, his only thoughts were of protecting his village's tenuous sanity, regardless of the cost. Even though he was an expendable weapon that turned upon his own comrades, he was necessary. That was all that mattered.
* * *
Feverish, pained and near death, Kisame continued to relive his life. His horrible occupation as an assassin had consumed his teens, leaving nothing but an antisocial, miserly husk in its wake. He'd sit out on his small porch and watch his peers going about their business. They'd date, flirt, go out to dinner. And while he loved Kirigakure and would give his life to protect it, he couldn't help but think that he'd been robbed from a normal life. He found himself occasionally wanting to submerge himself in the lives of comrades. What would it be like to have friends? What do they think, what do they want?
His answers had come to him in the forms of two people - Mei and Zabuza. To describe the relationships between both of them at once would be impossible, so Kisame's mind relived them separately, each memory painfully clear.
* * *
Kisame's solitude was someting he both hated and relished, so when he got a knock on his apartment's door, he was as riled as he was excited. No one ever visited him. He had a pot of rice cooking, near boiling, but he decided that answering the door was more important than his shitty dinner.
He opened the door and had to clamp his jaw shut to prevent himself from gaping like an idiot. It was Mei... the most beautiful girl in Kirigakure. Standing there, girlishly twirling her long bangs, shifting nervously on her feet. They'd been in the same class back in the academy and he'd always been glad he hadn't been forced to kill her. Not only did she possess a formidable combination of kekkai genkai... he'd just always liked her. It wasn't even in a sexual way, so much as it was a blunt respect. During the graduation, she'd done the same as he'd done, although melting her opponents with a gush of lava had perhaps been slightly more sadistic than Kisame's practical katana slices. Either way, she'd looked up at the roster of judges with that same look of contempt as if to say, 'is this what you wanted?' Cool, collected, yet impetuous in the way kids couldn't help but be.
She was strong, level headed... and she was ridiculously beautiful. Kisame hadn't even noticed her figure before, as the few missions they completed together, they both wore flak jackets, which concealed breasts to little more than a weird bulge in the thick material. But as he gazed warily at Mei's figure in his doorway, he couldn't help but notice her large, firm tits, which were restrained with just a bra and low-cut mesh shirt. They'd both just turned eighteen and Kisame realized right then that he was attracted to her.
"Hey," Mei said. " I just wanted to talk to you for a minute." She pushed her way past him and sat herself down on his bed, as there was nowhere else for guests to sit in the small efficiency. It was a typical rainy day outside and her sandals left a wet, muddy track on his hardwood floor. Apparently, antisocial assholes weren't worth the effort of showing customary respect. Kisame hid a scowl as he closed the door and glanced down at his own sandals, which he always removed at the doorstep. This is why I don't have guests, he thought crossly. People treat me like a piece of rotten meat!
"Damnit," Mei muttered, shrewdly noticing his scowl, even though he'd tried to hide it. "Sorry, I'll clean it up." She took off her sandals and began to rise from the bed but Kisame stopped her with a much more visible glare.
"It's fine," he lied. "What do you want?" His pulse quickened as his gaze locked on hers... he forced himself to look away and tend to his pot of rice, which was boiling over, making a mess of the stove. "I've been cooking for myself for over a decade now," he growled, almost to himself, "And I still suck at it!"
"You need a woman's touch," Mei mused, grinning. "Why aren't you dating anyone, Kisame? Girls are crazy about you!"
Kisame pondered this for a moment and shrugged as he briskly stirred his burned rice. "I don't have the time," he answered honestly. "And either way, girls are only interested in me because I look weird. They just wanna know what it's like to get with the only blue guy on the face of the planet." He laughed, despite himself. "Not that I mind," he added, a smirk playing over his lips.
And it was true... he'd been with so many girls, he couldn't count them on his fingers anymore. They'd approach him after missions, asking him out to 'dinner,' which was apparently just an excuse to get him in bed. He'd never had dinner with anyone! Recently, he'd gotten himself checked for STD's, because his multiple one-night stands were beginning to worry him. A condom could only do so much... they usually broke in the heat of the moment, forcing him to pull out before he got some girl pregnant. Condoms themselves were imports from the mainland, so they were as rare and expensive as they were useless. Apparently, mainlanders had tiny cocks, because the little strips of latex constricted his erection to a painful degree. Safe sex was a joke. He'd gotten to the point where he just asked a girl if she was clean, hoping she was telling the truth when she said 'yes.' Luckily, he'd come out negative for the roster of STD's.
"That's not true," Mei said, dispersing his thoughts. "A lot of girls just want to know who you are!"
"Come on, now," Kisame replied. "I'm nobody. I think we all know it." He glanced down at his rice and realized, to his dismay, that a third of the grains were singed to black. "By the way, you're fucking up my dinner," he growled. "Once again, what do you want?" He didn't believe that Mei had come here just to talk to him. No one ever did that... he was horrible at holding a conversation.
"I already told you," Mei replied. Kisame glanced back over at her to see that the way she was sitting, her short skirt revealed a little view of her panties. They were white. "There's some things I wanted to discuss with you," she said, suddenly serious. "You're a level-headed shinobi so I wanted to know your opinions on these recent assassinations." She noticed the blunt direction of Kisame's gaze and pulled at her skirt so that her panties were no longer visible.
"Not my fault you dress like that," Kisame muttered. He turned off the heat on his rice and faced her, becoming serious himself. He'd recently assassinated some well-known shinobi and while the news covered it as enemy villages, people were beginning to become suspicious. "I think it's Konoha," he said, crossing his arms. Of all the hidden villages, he hated Konoha the most. Also, it was his rote response when he was asked this question.
Mei glared at him, visibly frustrated. "Konoha and Kiri have a pact! While we're still enemies, we don't infiltrate eachother's territories! You think that Konoha is disregarding this hard-earned truce?"
Oh shit, Kisame thought to himself. She's angry. He had no desire to battle her formidable kekkai genkai... it would really fuck up his apartment. "Look, I have no idea who's behind it," he sighed. "Every village is out for us, so it could be anyone."
"But what would they gain from it?" Mei retorted, her eyes feverishly bright. "Our land isn't good for growing crops, we don't possess any technology, there isn't any-"
"It's a power struggle, Mei," Kisame snapped, cutting her off. "Are you stupid?" He was quickly becoming angry, digging his nails into his arms. "It doesn't matter what we possess, it only matters that we're subdued." Fuguki had taught him what to say, even when the conversation became heated. And while what he was saying was mostly a lie, he had trained himself to believe it as truth, becoming agitated when the cause arose. "Villages disregard pacts, sending out assassins-"
"But why?" Mei barked, interrupting him. "These victims were all plotting to overthrow the Mizukage! Civil war would weaken our country! Why would the enemy want to quell something that was self-destructive?"
"Shut up," Kisame growled, genuinely furious. "Go away. I'm not a politician, nor am I read up on the assassinations. Either way, what you're saying is dangerous... you'd do well to keep these thoughts to yourself." He opened his door and gestured for her to leave. "Get out of my house," he seethed. "And don't come back!"
Mei shoved her bare feet into her sandals and rose rigidly from the bed. Her hands were clenched at her sides and her posture was defensive, as though she was preparing for a fight. "I think it's you," she hissed. "You're the one who-"
Kisame attacked her before she could finish the sentence, pinning her onto the bed and clamping a hand over her lava-spewing mouth. "I'm nobody," he growled, struggling to clamp her wrists in his grasp so she couldn't form handsigns. "Either leave or die. You have the choice." He had no intention of letting her pry anymore... suddenly, she had become a threat to Kirigakure, which he'd vowed to protect.
She writhed in his grip and bit his hand but he didn't release his hold. Finally she relaxed, slowing her breathing and calming her heartrate with the same exercises Kisame used on himself. When her muscles were no longer tense, Kisame tentatively uncovered her mouth, although he kept her wrists pinned above her head. There were bite marks across his palm, oozing blood.
"I'll ask you one more time," he growled, his voice dangerously soft. "What do you want?" Their bodies were pressed together on the bed... he became painfully aware that her breasts were pressing against his chest and there was a heat between her legs that only meant one thing. She was aroused.
"I want you to tell me the truth," Mei seethed, clenching her hands in his grasp. Her large green eyes were narrowed and intense. "I deserve to know!"
"I told you all I know," Kisame replied softly, his gaze fixated on hers. "The conversation's over." Cautiously, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Her skin was warm and incredibly smooth to the touch.
"But I-" she gasped, blushing fiercely. Kisame spontaneously cut her off in mid-sentence, covering her mouth with his. It was just too much... he couldn't be so close to her without ravaging her. What had been a tenuous stare-down suddenly melted into a frenzy of lust; when he released Mei's wrists, she grabbed his head and pulled him in closer, twisting her fingers through his hair as she crushed their lips together. Kisame inhaled sharply and found himself submitting to her aggressive kiss, letting her tongue fuck his mouth. The fact that she was so dominant both astonished him and turned him on. He'd been expecting her to slap him then melt him with her lava... but the writhing, hot mess beneath him seemed to want his body more than any girl had in the past.
His hand had a will of its own as it feverishly felt her up, slipping under her thin mesh shirt and digging beneath her bra to cup her breasts. They were firm yet soft, big enough that he could barely fit his hand around them. When he pinched her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, she moaned into his mouth and shivered.
"Your hands are so rough," she panted, breaking the kiss.
"So are yours," he replied breathlessly. She had a shinobi's hands, calloused from using weapons on a daily basis. When she pulled up his sleeveless shirt and dragged her fingertips down his spine, he had to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning like a whore. His cock was so hard it was making him dizzy. Eyes narrowed, he roughly ground his hips, the tip pressing against her panties through the fabric of his pants. Even through all the material, he could feel the moist heat of her cunt, swollen and practically begging to be penetrated.
"Wanna fuck?" he growled, his hand sliding between her legs. Her panties were soaked.
"Damnit, Kisame," she gasped, her fingers grasping his hips as if to hold him still. "This isn't what I came here for!"
"Coulda fooled me," he replied, trying and failing not to smirk. "Is blue your favorite color or something?"
She clicked her tongue, miffed. "All I wanted from you was the truth," she grated, repeating herself in her frenzied state. "I wasn't expecting... this!" She shivered and bucked her hips when he slid a finger under her panties, grazing her slit.
"Neither was I," Kisame growled. "But since we're here..." He rubbed her clit, swirling his fingertip over the hard nub until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his back.
"Fine," she panted, somehow managing a scowl. "But don't think for a second that I came over here to screw you! I'm not a whore, for crying out loud!"
You dress like one, Kisame thought to himself. It was hard not to say the sentiment outloud. Permission granted, he plunged his finger into her cunt, thrusting into the wet heat a few times before adding a second digit. He knew he didn't have to stretch out girls to ready them for his cock but he enjoyed the way it felt, the tight little tunnel pulsing around his fingers. It was arousing just thinking that there was something made on a girl solely to be fucked. When he finally withdrew his fingers, he slid them into his own mouth and sucked them clean. She tasted divine.
Mei's cheeks were a pretty shade of pink as she wriggled to a sitting position and began to take off her clothing. Kisame eagerly helped with the process, pulling her tight mesh shirt over her head and undoing the clasps on her bra with a rather whorish efficiency. When she was finally naked, he found himself staring dumbly at her body, too wrapped up in the beauty of it to even know what to do. She was a perfect combination of strong and slender, her honed muscles softened by her feminine curves.
"Now it's your turn," she said, snapping him out of his stupor. Before he could even oblige, she wrenched off his shirt and tugged his pants down, biting her lip as his erection sprung loose of the fabric. "Big," she said absently. "And blue."
"What, did you think it would be some other color?" Kisame mused as he removed his pants the rest of the way. "That would be even weirder, wouldn't it?"
"I guess so," Mei murmured. "But it's still pretty strange. Exotic is the word I'm looking for." Her gaze was fixated on it as she tentatively grasped it, her fingers squeezing the hard length.
Kisame gasped and shivered from her touch, which was both rough and gentle at the same time. "I don't like the word exotic," he panted, grinding his hips slightly. "Makes me sound like some kind of... rare animal."
Mei laughed and tightened her grip even more until he winced. "That's ridiculous," she replied lightly. "It would mean I'm into bestiality or something!" But the way her eyes glinted suggested that his animalistic appearance was what turned her on. It didn't come to him as a surprise... every girl he fucked saw him as a weird, primal creature who they'd tamed into screwing for one night. The fact that he was an intelligent human being never seemed to occur to them. They just wanted a vicious roll in the hay with a beast.
Fine, he thought to himself. Like I could expect anything more from a girl like her! Mei was one of the most renowned shinobi in Kiri, famous both from her rich lineage and astounding kekkai genkai. She was practically royalty. And the fact that she was about to screw Kisame almost seemed degrading to her stature. He was poor, he had no lineage that anyone knew of, and even though his missions were crucial, they gave him no status. He was probably the least acknowledged shinobi in all of Kirigakure.
His thoughts dispersed when Mei roughly guided his cock to her cunt, rubbing the tip against her wet slit. "You still here?" she asked, mildly annoyed that for a split second, he'd been ignoring her. "Or did you forget what we're doing?"
"Shut up, Mei," he growled. "I'm allowed to have thoughts." He felt a random impulse to slap her but restrained the urge. Instead, he wrenched her hand from his cock, pinning her wrist above her head. "You shouldn't even be doing this," he grated. "Aren't you aiming for the title of Mizukage? I think this might soil your reputation."
"Not if we keep it secret," Mei responded, squirming in his grasp. "And obviously, secrecy is your forte." She said it as though it was already implied, as if it would be ludicrous to have a public relationship with him.
Fucking bitch, Kisame seethed, furious. She's no different than anyone else! To think she would be was just a useless sentiment. With this in mind, he scowled and abruptly slammed his cock into her cunt, squeezing in the entire length with a single thrust. When she cried out, he roughly clamped a hand over her mouth. He was so damn angry, it was all he could do not to smother her to death as he began to pump his cock in and out of her tight passage, withdrawing it to the tip before cramming it back in. It was bizarre that she had even managed to make him so mad... he usually took things with a grain of salt. But he liked her, sincerely, and the fact that she saw him as nothing more than a base sin made him want to slit her fucking throat. Ultimately, he was just sick of being used.
His rage mixed with lust as he mercilessly pounded his cock into her, ignoring her muffled moans against his palm. Even though she was afraid, she was equally aroused, dripping wet and writhing her hips to meet his thrusts. Her free hand was groping him wildly, clawing at his back, his thighs, his ass. When he finally released his hold on her mouth and wrist, she roughly yanked his hair to crush their lips together, breathing a curse that sounded like 'you fucking animal!'
Everything after that was just a wet, horny blur. Mei wanted an animal so he became one, marring her perfect skin with his sharp teeth, biting her neck until he drew blood. Even though this tryst was supposed to be secret, he wanted to leave his mark on her. He'd get great satisfaction in the weeks to come, watching her walk around wearing a turtleneck to hide her wounds instead of her usual slutty wardrobe.
"You're such an asshole, Kisame," she gasped, clamping her legs around his waist in a vice-like grip as she neared climax.
"And you're a bitch," Kisame sneered. The smell and taste of her blood pushed him over the edge - they came simultaneously, Kisame barely pulling out of her pulsing cunt in time to spill his seed on her stomach. His cock still twitching with the throes of orgasm, he dipped his fingers in the puddle of cum and fed it to her, wanting her to taste it. She eagerly obliged, sucking them clean with a surprising hunger.
I should have just come inside her, he thought listlessly. Made her fucking pregnant with an illegitimate blue child. But as his orgasm faded, so did his bizarre rage. Exhausted, he laid down next to her, absently mopping the cum off her bare stomach with his discarded shirt. She sighed and nestled up to him, using his shoulder as a pillow. He felt uncomfortable sleeping so close to her... it was almost too intimate. But his anxieties waned to a strange comfort as he drifted off to sleep. It was nice to be at her side, even if it was just for one night.
When he woke up in the morning, she was gone. No note, no stray garments, nothing. Bleary-eyed, Kisame dragged himself out of bed and looked around for some evidence that he'd actually fucked her, that it hadn't been a very realistic wet dream. All he found was his neglected pot of rice and a trail of muddy shoeprints. Even though he'd been expecting to wake up alone, it still hurt. She'd used him.
The satisfaction he was hoping to derive from her concealed bite marks never even happened in the weeks to come. He became so consumed with his own life, he didn't see her for at least a month. And when he finally did, he found that he had nothing to say to her. At this point, Fuguki had begun paying him for sex... he felt so fucking dirty, he couldn't even look her in the eye.
* * *
His one night with Mei had been like a fever dream, delirious and haunting. It would come back to him often, making him realize his own fucked up position in Kirigakure's ranks. Everyone just used him, whether it was a lecherous, legendary swordsman or a beautiful candidate for Mizukage. He was sick of it, sick of it all. Mei was just proof that no one would ever really love him for who he was. The sentiment was rather mushy but nonetheless, it was constantly on his mind.
But in the end, he found that he was wrong. Zabuza was a fucked up freak just like him, slipping in and out of his life... and although neither man would say it outloud, they loved eachother. The love was expressed first by the clash of weapons on the training field, followed by the nervous meeting of lips. When Fuguki had stepped in and coerced Kisame into becoming his whore, Zabuza had perhaps been the only person who knew or cared about the trysts. He became violently angry that Kisame had been stolen from him, expressing his rage during sparring matches. He'd actually slapped Kisame once and shouted, 'snap out of it!'
But Kisame wasn't able to snap out of it. Fuguki consumed him, using him up until there was nothing left for anyone else. When the man started getting fat, Kisame had wondered if he'd be forced to fuck him for the rest of his life... the possession of a disgusting old pervert with too much political sway to ever escape from. Luckily, Fuguki's sex drive had dwindled along with his obesity. He got embarrassed about his weight and resorted to having Kisame just suck him off fully clothed before finally dismissing him with no sentimentality whatsoever.
"You're getting too old," he'd said. "You're not my taste anymore."
The feeling's mutual, Kisame had thought to himself, furious. You were never my taste!
And that was that. Even though he'd ceased being attracted to Fuguki for months, he felt a cold despair that in a way, he'd been dumped. If Mei had trampled his heart, Fuguki had fucking stomped on it. He found himself drinking far more than usual in the months that ensued, sitting on his porch and just hating himself. I got kicked to the curb by a fat old man, he'd repeat to himself over and over. Am I really that damn useless?
He'd nearly forgotten about his relationship with Zabuza. The man was becoming quite legendary, having acquired the executioner's blade... he had his own squad of elite shinobi who accompanied him on missions all over the five great nations. Legitimate missions that were percieved as heroic. When he'd get back into town, there'd always be some fanfare... girls swooning, men cheering. And all the while, Kisame would complete his dirty missions, utterly nameless. It was darkly amusing that Zabuza had once perceived him as a mentor, begging for his advice on swordwielding and suiton. He was jealous of his comrade but ultimately, he was proud. It was somewhat comforting to think that at least one of them had amounted to something.
Zabuza was even becoming a candidate for Mizukage! Kisame hoped that when the time came, he'd win against Mei. The sentiment was rather selfish... he just wanted Mei to lose because of their one-night stand. Cold-hearted bitch! He should have gotten her pregnant! Thanks to her, he'd gotten crabs, which had been a pain in the ass to get rid of.
Needless to say, he was surprised when Zabuza showed up at his doorstep one rainy evening. Kisame was stumbling drunk, barely able to answer the door. When he saw that it was Zabuza standing there, he had to do a double-take, squinting his eyes blearily.
"What's up, fucker?" Zabuza taunted, grinning under his bandages. "You gonna let me in?"
"Shit," Kisame slurred, stepping aside so the younger man could enter. "Thought you were a ghost."
"It's been a while, I know," Zabuza replied. "I've been busy, what can I say?" Kisame noticed that the man respectfully removed his sandals before treading onto his hardwood floor.
"It's been months," he growled, shutting the door behind him. "Shit, how have you been?" He had a half-full bottle of strong sake sitting on his kitchen counter but when he tried to grab it, Zabuza snatched it away.
"Damnit Kisame, you're a fucking wreck," the man stated bluntly, his narrow eyes scanning his comrade up and down. "Did you get thinner? How is that even possible?!"
Kisame glanced down at himself, his vision blurred. Indeed, he was wasting away a bit, his already lean form more wiry than usual. "I've been having stomach problems," he lied, embarrassed. "Can't hold anything down." He realized that Zabuza was actually bigger than him for once, his muscles bulging under his long-sleeved shirt. The revelation was depressing. Ever since Fuguki had tossed him aside, he'd just been forgetting to eat, too damn listless to cook for himself.
"And you're also shitfaced," Zabuza growled. "Since when do you drink?" He passively watched the dismayed expression on Kisame's face as he emptied the bottle of sake into the sink.
"I don't have a mission tomorrow," Kisame retorted, riled. "So it doesn't matter."
"Shinobi aren't supposed to get fucking drunk," Zabuza seethed. "That's like... the first rule."
"If you came here to lecture me, you should just leave," Kisame snapped. "I'm in no mood!" He inhaled sharply when Zabuza's hand suddenly shot out and encircled his neck.
"I'm worried about you, asshole," the younger man stated, his voice dangerously soft. "Everyone is. When I got back into town, the rumor mill was all abuzz with how you just sit up here all alone, starving yourself and getting hammered. What the hell is your problem? You're the Monster of the Hidden Mist, for crying out loud!"
Kisame scowled and roughly pried Zabuza's hand from his neck. "Leave me alone," he growled. "I don't need this! And you're just verifying the truth... people are content to watch me rot! Not once did any of these assholes come up here and ask me how I'm doing!" He realized that he was being dramatic in his drunkenness but he didn't care.
"I'm here," Zabuza replied bluntly. "And I'm not content to watch you rot, you skinny bitch." When he reached out for Kisame again, the older man bristled but didn't resist. "I know this is about Fuguki," he said, running his fingertips over the sensitive gill marks on Kisame's cheek. "But you should be happy he finally let you go. He treated you like shit."
"Shut up, Zabuza," Kisame grated, leaning into the caress despite himself. The younger man had always known how to touch him in a way that made him melt. "The last thing I want to discuss is Fuguki. Just thinking about him makes me fucking ill." He sighed and bit his lip when Zabuza's fingers trailed down to his neck, then his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his bare skin almost ached, desperate for attention after months of isolation.
"Then you must think about him a lot," the younger man said softly. "Because you're very ill. Keep this up and you'll die." His blunt words paired with his gentle touch made Kisame's throat tighten and his vision blur even more. He realized that he was on the verge of tears and scowled, horribly ashamed.
"Please just leave me alone," he rasped, although his body did nothing to emphasize the statement, arching into Zabuza's touch as the man's calloused fingers sunk down further to the waistline of his pants. "I can't talk about this!" he pleaded. His breath hitched when Zabuza found his growing erection and stroked it gently through his pants. It was ludicrous to think that the man could make him hard from so little contact. He cursed under his breath and stumbled, his back hitting the wall behind him.
"You don't have to talk," Zabuza growled, his voice barely above a whisper. "In fact, don't you worry about a thing. I'm gonna take a leave from work and stay here with you until you get better... and there's nothing you can say or do to stop me." He pressed his body up against Kisame's, pinning him against the wall. "I've been patiently waiting for my turn with you and I'll be damned if you deprive me of it by wasting away," he said, his dark eyes narrowed and intensely bright. "Although I must confess, you're pretty sexy when you're this skinny. You're a hot mess."
Kisame felt a grin tug his lips despite the fact that he was on the verge of breaking down. "You have such a way with words," he replied, his voice as weak as his legs, which were threatening to buckle. "But honestly, I'm fine. You don't need to help me, Zabuza. That's just... ridiculous..." Perhaps it was the booze, maybe it was malnourishment, or it could have just been his own crazed thoughts whirling through his delerious mind, but his vision suddenly tunneled and he fainted right then and there, collapsing into Zabuza's arms.
* * *
When he woke up, it was light out and he couldn't remember anything. His head pounded from a wretched hangover, his muscles ached for who knows what reason, and his eyes refused to see straight, squinting blurrily at his surroundings. At least I made it to bed, he told himself, noticing that he was actually under the covers and not sprawled out on the floor like he had been for the majority of the past few months.
"You sleep okay?" Zabuza's voice jarred him so badly, he bolted to a sitting position before collapsing back down, clutching his aching head. His comrade was standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he slurred, baffled and riled. "Did we fuck or something?" He and Zabuza had never gone all the way and it would piss him off immensely to think that he'd been blacked out for their first time.
"I wish," Zabuza replied. "You fuckin' fainted, don't you remember?"
"Obviously not," Kisame replied coldly. "And I think you're lying because I've never fainted in my life." He rubbed his throbbing temples. "Probably passed out drunk. There any booze left? I need some hair of the dog to get outta bed." He still had no idea why Zabuza was in his house but he was too hungover to care at the moment. Blearily, he sat up and began scanning the room for a half-empty bottle of booze, of which there were usually plenty. When he didn't see any, he felt a pang of dread. He hadn't endured a hangover in its entirety in a long time, quelling it with more sake until he was functional. The few days he had missions (he'd been on the roster less and less since his downward spiral), he'd have to plan ahead and slowly wean himself down. Never, never did he go from shitfaced directly to sober. For all he knew, the damn hangover could kill him. Alcohol withdrawals were a serious thing. "Damnit Zabuza, I need some booze," he grated, furious. "If you're playing a trick on me, now's the time to stop!"
Zabuza's face was solemn as he approached the bed with a glass of water and some pills. He had removed the bandages from his face and his mouth was a grim line. "Water, aspirin, and food," he stated bluntly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "You're gonna take all three and see how you feel. If you're really that bad of a drunk, I'll go buy you some sake later to wean you down, alright?"
"No, it's not alright," Kisame growled, grudgingly taking the glass and pills from the younger man's hand. "What is this, a goddamned intervention?"
"Drink the water and eat the damn aspirin," Zabuza repeated, baring his sharpened teeth. "Or else I'll shove a tube down your throat and make you take it!"
"That sounds fucking horrible," Kisame muttered, wondering if the man was actually serious. He decided he didn't want to find out, so he took the pills and washed them down with the water. He discovered in the process that he was insanely thirsty. When the glass was empty, Zabuza got up and poured him another, which he drank down just as fast. He realized that his muscles were probably aching from dehydration.
"And now you're gonna eat some food," Zabuza stated. "Unfortunately for you, I'm a terrible cook." He ladled something into a bowl and gave it to Kisame. It was rice gruel, the shit fed to people who were extremely sick or elderly.
"Damnit Zabuza," he grated, embarrassed. "I'm not that much older than you!"
"No, but you're sick," the younger man replied grimly. "Just see if you can hold it down."
Am I really sick? he wondered. But when he tried to remember the last time he'd eaten, his mind drew a blank. Days ago, maybe even weeks.
He had a harder time with the food than he'd had with the water. He felt full after just two spoonfuls and by the time he finished the small portion, he was close to gagging. The ordeal left him feeling weak and emotionally drained, painfully aware of how sick he'd become. He hadn't even realized it until now... he'd been too damn drunk. When his cleared mind finally recalled the events of the previous night, he found himself too embarrassed even to speak for a while. He just listlessly stared down at his emaciated frame, disgusted with himself. When Zabuza put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently, the contact almost made him cry.
"You don't need to see me like this," he muttered, his hands trembling. "I'm fucking wretched."
"No, you're fucking hot," Zabuza replied, flashing a grin despite the situation. "And you'll be better in no time at all. Hell, you're the most resilient person I know!"
"But I'm not," Kisame insisted. "I'm tired, Zabuza. I don't think I can do it anymore. Everything is just... too much." He was referring to Fuguki, to his missions, to every aspect of his life. He was overwhelmed, simply put. If he was a weapon, he felt as though he'd finally been broken from overuse. It happened to shinobi all the time... they'd collapse from stress and stop functioning. Considering the burden Kisame carried from his assassinations, he was surprised it hadn't happened to him sooner. "People aren't supposed to live like this," he murmured.
Zabuza shrugged, his eyes narrowed with thought. "You don't have to keep fighting if you don't want to," he finally replied. "There's other things you can do with your life." It was weird to hear the vicious man say such a thing... he was always the first to spout the mantra of the shinobi as an unfeeling weapon. Kisame couldn't help but think that his comrade was just lying to comfort him.
"If I stop fighting, I'll become useless," he sighed. "I have no worth to Kirigakure as anything but a weapon."
Zabuza shrugged again and smirked. "Well then, I don't know what to tell you," he said bluntly. "You'll have to make up your mind on your own." He took Kisame's hand and randomly guided it to his cock, which was half-hard, tenting up his pants. "In the meantime, I'm getting horny from looking at your skinny ass. Would it make you feel any better if you sucked my cock?"
Kisame laughed despite himself, a grin tugging at his lips. "You have such a one-track mind," he mused, curling his fingers around his comrade's girth. "How is anything about this situation even turning you on?" While he and Zabuza had never fucked, they'd given eachother head on more than one occasion. So even though he hadn't felt the man's cock in a while, it wasn't something unfamiliar to him, at all. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled it out, enjoying the way the smooth shaft felt in his hand.
"Hey, I'm just trying to help," Zabuza growled, grinding his hips slightly. "Doesn't cum have protein in it or something?"
"No," Kisame replied, laughing. "That's just a myth, idiot. I'm pretty sure cum has no nutritional value whatsoever." He felt himself blush when the younger man caressed his face, running his rough fingers over his lips.
"Well that sucks," Zabuza stated softly. "But I think you should do it anyway. You obviously want to. Look at you... you're melting." He reached down and stroked the older man's shaft through the sheets... it was rock-hard. "Should have seen yourself last night," he mused. "Swooning over me like a schoolgirl! It was pretty hard not to date-rape your drunk ass."
"Oh shut up, Zabuza," Kisame sighed, his cock aching from the contact. "And sit back a little. I don't feel like getting out of bed."
"Lazy fucker," the younger man growled, eyes glinting. But he complied quickly enough, resting back onto his elbows to give Kisame better access to his erection. His gaze was bright with anticipation as his comrade slipped from under the sheets and positioned himself to such cock.
"When did I get naked?" Kisame murmured, noticing that he was nude from head to toe.
"That's my fault," Zabuza stated, running a hand through his comrade's hair, gently pushing his face closer to his erection. "I took your damn pants off after you passed out, thinking you'd have boxers on or something. Like I said, it was pretty hard not to molest you."
"Pervert," Kisame joked, eyes half-lidded as he grabbed the base of the younger man's cock. "I bet you copped a feel."
"I might have," Zabuza confessed, grinning. "Maybe just a handful of perfect blue ass." He reached over and pinched Kisame's ass before the older man could stop him. "Better watch out," he warned. "The second you start feeling better, I'm gonna fuck you senseless!"
Like sucking dick is any more comfortable, Kisame thought, slightly irritated for no particular reason. But when he tentatively licked the head of Zabuza's cock, he found that he didn't want to stop, even though he felt like crap. He had to restrain himself from seeming too enthusiastic as he ran his tongue up and down the shaft a few times before fitting the thick length in his mouth. Zabuza's cock wasn't quite as big as his but it was still impressive, difficult to wrap his lips around. He realized as he slid his way down how long it had been since he'd been with anyone. Months! The last person he'd screwed was Fuguki! His recent lack of intimacy only aroused him more, his deprived senses practically screaming for attention. When Zabuza placed a hand on the back of his head, urging him to start bobbing up and down, he complied eagerly and let out a muffled moan.
"Damnit," Zabuza growled, arching his back and grinding his hips. "You got better at this!" Kisame's response was another moan as he enthusiastically continued, letting the younger man's cock penetrate his throat with each thrust. It was true, he was considerably more experienced at giving head than the last time he'd sucked his comrade off. Fuguki had made sure of it, teaching him to relax his throat and not to drag his sharp teeth. By the time his superior was through with him, he'd gotten so good at it, it was almost embarrassing. He had that same efficiency giving head that had so riled him about Fuguki the first time they'd fucked, although with Zabuza, there was no lack of intimacy. When his comrade's shaft became slick with precum, he was so damn horny it was all he could do not to start writhing his hips, fucking his sheets. Zabuza noticed how desperate he was for release and quickly obliged, reaching between the older man's legs and grasping his erection.
The contact sent him over the edge immediately - he came with a few frenzied thrusts of his hips, coating the sheets with cum. Spurred on by his comrade's orgasm, Zabuza closely followed, panting a curse through clenched teeth as he spilled his seed down the older man's throat. Kisame swallowed it eagerly and kept the twitching length in his mouth until it began to go soft. He hadn't tasted Zabuza's cum in a long time and he couldn't help but savor it. When both men were utterly spent, he withdrew the length from his mouth and rested his head on the younger man's heaving chest. They'd never cuddled after screwing around with eachother before... it felt a little odd. But it also just felt right. Zabuza absently ran his fingers through Kisame's hair, gently rubbing his head, and the older man let his eyes drift shut, more content than he'd ever felt before.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* *phew!* That took a while to write! I've been wanting to do some flashbacks for a long time now, so Kisame being all passed out was the perfect excuse. I wanted him to hook up with both Mei and Zabuza... that was my best crack at it. I think maybe their relative ages are a bit inaccurate but hey, somehow they're all at least eighteen, lol!
And yah, fucked up chapter, I know. I wasn't really planning on making it so screwed up, I swear! But you're probably used to it by now, right? Anyway, this was 'part one' of the flashback. The chapter was just getting a bit too long so I gotta divide it up into two parts. Maybe even three, who knows! Hope you liked it! And yes, expect some more ZabuKisa smut in part two. I love that pairing!
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