Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto > The Strange and Fantastical Tales of Ju-Ju Boy and Mr. Scrooge
Cessation of Breath
After a battle, Kakuzu is too tired and too empty to deny Hidan what they both need.
?Blocked
When the battle is over it’s night and it’s raining and Kakuzu can barely move. His cloak is heavy with blood and ice-cold rain, and his body is heavy with fatigue, and his ghost (not soul, no, not anymore, because he has been dead a long, long time) is heavy with an emptiness that eats away at his thoughts until there’s barely anything left. He is tired and he is empty, and so he just stands there in the pouring rain, surrounded by broken corpses and the echoes of their dying screams.
There is movement to his right, death-swift and grave-silent; Hidan moving light as a ghost, even though his cloak hangs soaking wet on pale shoulders and his sandals are packed with mud. It’s like nothing can weigh him down, like such worldly things as water and mud and so, so many years can’t touch him, this vision of hungry death. And he is hungry. Kakuzu can see it burning in bloodied pink eyes; a hunger never quite sated, only teased with brief, brief fractions of moments when he rides someone else’s death and can touch the thing that lies beyond it. But death isn’t the only thing Hidan hungers for, though, and it’s the other things that Kakuzu fears.
Hidan’s lips are soft, but there is nothing soft about the kiss he presses against Kakuzu’s mouth. It’s harsh and hungry and Hidan likes to bite hard enough to draw blood. Normally, Kakuzu would push him away, snap his neck, stab him; anything to just make him /stop/, but Kakuzu is too tired and his arms are too heavy, so he does nothing. He does nothing, and Hidan is attacking the remains of Kakuzu’s tattered mask, tearing it and ripping it off so he can fist a hand in Kakuzu’s hair – just the wrong side of painful – and angle Kakuzu’s head for better access for those insistent lips. Then he’s biting and licking his way into Kakuzu’s mouth, and the kiss tastes like blood and rain and cold.
It’s the hand working to undo his pants that spurs him into action; trying to swat Hidan’s hand away, to move back, regain the space Hidan stole. Hidan won’t have it, though. His eyes narrow, and he clenches his hand harder in Kakuzu’s hair, bringing their bodies closer together, so close that there is barely any space between them, sliding one of his legs between Kakuzu’s, rubbing his thigh against Kakuzu’s cock as he grinds his own hardness into Kakuzu’s hip.
Kakuzu can feel his body reacting to Hidan’s actions, and suddenly it’s imperative – it’s the most important thing in the world – that he get away, escape, put as much space between the two of them as possible. But Hidan is faster than him now, and as Kakuzu tries to step back, Hidan’s leg has hooked around his and then they’re falling, falling, down into the bloody mud.
The fall pushes all the air out of Kakuzu’s lungs, and for a second, he is dazed. Then Hidan is moving, and he’s sitting, straddling Kakuzu’s hips and leaning forward so they’re nearly face to face, weight resting on one hand, the other still gripping Kakuzu’s hair. Their eyes are locked, and Hidan’s are still burning, but so much more intensely now, and there is a steely sort of determination that tells Kakuzu that there is no way to stop this now, if there ever were.
Then Hidan’s eyes break their stare, and settle on the hand in Kakuzu’s hair. Slowly, the grip eases, and the hand trails softly towards Kakuzu’s face, Hidan’s gaze following it’s movement. He gently touches Kakuzu’s cheek, caressing it with his open palm while his thumb strokes softly across Kakuzu’s cheekbone. Then their eyes meet again, and the fire in Hidan’s eyes are like a pure white flame, and Hidan’s hand is moving downwards past Kakuzu’s chin and settles at his throat. On pure instinct, Kakuzu’s arm moves and he grabs hold of Hidan’s wrist hard enough to nearly crush it. But Hidan doesn’t move back, and his eyes are challenging. “Don’t try to lie and say you don’t want this,” those eyes say. A long moment passes, and his grip around Hidan’s wrist doesn’t let up, but he’s not trying to stop him. Kakuzu won’t lie.
Hidan tightens his grip on Kakuzu’s throat experimentally. Not enough to strangle, but enough that Kakuzu feels the pressure in his skull rising. Then he’s shifting his weight, his other hand moving to undo Kakuzu’s pants and there’s muffled cursing before the sound of ripping cloth reaches Kakuzu’s ears. He’s too focused on the hand at his throat to care, though. Maybe he’ll be angry later, when he doesn’t need so badly.
Hidan settles between Kakuzu’s legs, his movements awkward for trying to keep the grip at his throat, and then he is spitting in his free hand, and Kakuzu can feel fingers at his opening, insistent and not particularly gentle, but nothing about Hidan ever really is. The preparation is brief and minimal, and then Hidan’s cock is pushing inside. It’s too much, and it’s too fast, and it /hurts/, but Kakuzu lets out a moan that’s nothing if not urging Hidan to go on.
When Hidan fights, it’s brutal and going for blood. When he fucks, it’s pretty much the same. His thrusts are sharp and hurried, forcing Kakuzu to take the whole of him in in one go. But it’s good all the same, because the pain sends searing tendrils of warmth through Kakuzu’s nerves and makes his breath hitch in pleasure. Hidan seems to notice the hitch, because suddenly the grip on Kakuzu’s throat is tight and hard as steel, and Kakuzu can’t breathe at all anymore.
Hidan’s still fucking him, but Kakuzu can barely tell anymore. His whole world is reduced to the hand gripping his throat, the pressure building in his head, and the black stealing away his vision. He distantly registers Hidan kissing the corner of his gasping mouth, and whispers just too soft to make out, and then Hidan’s hand is tighenting even further, and Kakuzu is choking and choking and coming, and the world is /black/.
When he comes to, coughing and sputtering and choking on deep gulping breaths, Hidan’s thrusts are becoming frantic and he’s vaguely aware of Hidan’s speaking; a hurried mantra of “/fuckgodyesyesfuck/”. Then Hidan thrusts in one last time, coming deep inside Kakuzu before he collapses in a gasping mess on top of him.
They should move. They’re hardly safe out in the open like this, and it’s still raining heavily. They really should move, but they don’t. Instead, they just lie there together, covered in blood and sweat and come and muddy water, gasping for breath beneath the cold night sky.
There is movement to his right, death-swift and grave-silent; Hidan moving light as a ghost, even though his cloak hangs soaking wet on pale shoulders and his sandals are packed with mud. It’s like nothing can weigh him down, like such worldly things as water and mud and so, so many years can’t touch him, this vision of hungry death. And he is hungry. Kakuzu can see it burning in bloodied pink eyes; a hunger never quite sated, only teased with brief, brief fractions of moments when he rides someone else’s death and can touch the thing that lies beyond it. But death isn’t the only thing Hidan hungers for, though, and it’s the other things that Kakuzu fears.
Hidan’s lips are soft, but there is nothing soft about the kiss he presses against Kakuzu’s mouth. It’s harsh and hungry and Hidan likes to bite hard enough to draw blood. Normally, Kakuzu would push him away, snap his neck, stab him; anything to just make him /stop/, but Kakuzu is too tired and his arms are too heavy, so he does nothing. He does nothing, and Hidan is attacking the remains of Kakuzu’s tattered mask, tearing it and ripping it off so he can fist a hand in Kakuzu’s hair – just the wrong side of painful – and angle Kakuzu’s head for better access for those insistent lips. Then he’s biting and licking his way into Kakuzu’s mouth, and the kiss tastes like blood and rain and cold.
It’s the hand working to undo his pants that spurs him into action; trying to swat Hidan’s hand away, to move back, regain the space Hidan stole. Hidan won’t have it, though. His eyes narrow, and he clenches his hand harder in Kakuzu’s hair, bringing their bodies closer together, so close that there is barely any space between them, sliding one of his legs between Kakuzu’s, rubbing his thigh against Kakuzu’s cock as he grinds his own hardness into Kakuzu’s hip.
Kakuzu can feel his body reacting to Hidan’s actions, and suddenly it’s imperative – it’s the most important thing in the world – that he get away, escape, put as much space between the two of them as possible. But Hidan is faster than him now, and as Kakuzu tries to step back, Hidan’s leg has hooked around his and then they’re falling, falling, down into the bloody mud.
The fall pushes all the air out of Kakuzu’s lungs, and for a second, he is dazed. Then Hidan is moving, and he’s sitting, straddling Kakuzu’s hips and leaning forward so they’re nearly face to face, weight resting on one hand, the other still gripping Kakuzu’s hair. Their eyes are locked, and Hidan’s are still burning, but so much more intensely now, and there is a steely sort of determination that tells Kakuzu that there is no way to stop this now, if there ever were.
Then Hidan’s eyes break their stare, and settle on the hand in Kakuzu’s hair. Slowly, the grip eases, and the hand trails softly towards Kakuzu’s face, Hidan’s gaze following it’s movement. He gently touches Kakuzu’s cheek, caressing it with his open palm while his thumb strokes softly across Kakuzu’s cheekbone. Then their eyes meet again, and the fire in Hidan’s eyes are like a pure white flame, and Hidan’s hand is moving downwards past Kakuzu’s chin and settles at his throat. On pure instinct, Kakuzu’s arm moves and he grabs hold of Hidan’s wrist hard enough to nearly crush it. But Hidan doesn’t move back, and his eyes are challenging. “Don’t try to lie and say you don’t want this,” those eyes say. A long moment passes, and his grip around Hidan’s wrist doesn’t let up, but he’s not trying to stop him. Kakuzu won’t lie.
Hidan tightens his grip on Kakuzu’s throat experimentally. Not enough to strangle, but enough that Kakuzu feels the pressure in his skull rising. Then he’s shifting his weight, his other hand moving to undo Kakuzu’s pants and there’s muffled cursing before the sound of ripping cloth reaches Kakuzu’s ears. He’s too focused on the hand at his throat to care, though. Maybe he’ll be angry later, when he doesn’t need so badly.
Hidan settles between Kakuzu’s legs, his movements awkward for trying to keep the grip at his throat, and then he is spitting in his free hand, and Kakuzu can feel fingers at his opening, insistent and not particularly gentle, but nothing about Hidan ever really is. The preparation is brief and minimal, and then Hidan’s cock is pushing inside. It’s too much, and it’s too fast, and it /hurts/, but Kakuzu lets out a moan that’s nothing if not urging Hidan to go on.
When Hidan fights, it’s brutal and going for blood. When he fucks, it’s pretty much the same. His thrusts are sharp and hurried, forcing Kakuzu to take the whole of him in in one go. But it’s good all the same, because the pain sends searing tendrils of warmth through Kakuzu’s nerves and makes his breath hitch in pleasure. Hidan seems to notice the hitch, because suddenly the grip on Kakuzu’s throat is tight and hard as steel, and Kakuzu can’t breathe at all anymore.
Hidan’s still fucking him, but Kakuzu can barely tell anymore. His whole world is reduced to the hand gripping his throat, the pressure building in his head, and the black stealing away his vision. He distantly registers Hidan kissing the corner of his gasping mouth, and whispers just too soft to make out, and then Hidan’s hand is tighenting even further, and Kakuzu is choking and choking and coming, and the world is /black/.
When he comes to, coughing and sputtering and choking on deep gulping breaths, Hidan’s thrusts are becoming frantic and he’s vaguely aware of Hidan’s speaking; a hurried mantra of “/fuckgodyesyesfuck/”. Then Hidan thrusts in one last time, coming deep inside Kakuzu before he collapses in a gasping mess on top of him.
They should move. They’re hardly safe out in the open like this, and it’s still raining heavily. They really should move, but they don’t. Instead, they just lie there together, covered in blood and sweat and come and muddy water, gasping for breath beneath the cold night sky.
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