Drabbles. A lot of drabbles.
Oct. 24th, 2005 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
midnightdiddleGenma and Raidou. And stuff.
“Push it in, just push it in!”
“Quiet,” Raidou hissed, straining. Genma snarled at him, clutching the scarred man’s arm, and dug in his broken nails.
“Just push it the fuck in!”
“Quiet quiet quiet quiet,” Raidou chanted fiercely at him. “It won’t fit, and someone will get hurt, and then where will we be? At the hospital?”
Genma punched Raidou’s arm, hard, and Raidou stopped dead, glaring at Genma.
“When I say someone, Genma, I mean you. So stop trying to rush me, you stupid bastard.”
Genma groaned, leaning his head against Raidou’s shoulder, then turned his face away. “Fine. Take your time. I don’t care. Asshole.”
Raidou growled, shoved hard, and smiled madly at Genma with sharp, white teeth. Genma’s head snapped back and he looked at Raidou, mouth falling open.
“Shit, Raidou, be careful. Was it supposed to make that sound?”
Raidou’s smile widened and he shoved again. “Now you want me to be careful?” A shove. “Now you want me to be careful?” Another shove. “Now?”
“Raidou, seriously, be careful. It’s not supposed to make that sound, I know it! What if it’s bleeding?”
Raidou paused, holding very still. “You think,” he started, worried, “it’s bleeding?”
Genma punched Raidou’s arm again, face twisted up. “Don’t worry about it now, just hurry up and shove it all the way in. Come on, Raidou, put some back into it.”
“Shut up,” Raidou groaned, “I’m the one doing all the work. You just lie back and enjoy the show.”
“Hell yeah I will.”
“I said shut up.” Raidou pushed one last time, hard, then leaned on his hands, panting. “There, it’s in. Happy now?”
“Yes. Now poke it, or something. Get it going.” Genma squirmed and Raidou swallowed, leaning a bit closer.
“Poke it? Where?”
“I don’t know, anywhere. Just get it going.”
“Fine fine fine. Right here good?” Raidou asked. Genma nodded and Raidou extended his finger, pressing it in very carefully.
“Seriously, Raidou, if it didn’t break already, nothing’s going to break it now. Seriously, hit it or something. Come on,” Genma whined. Raidou made a face at him, then poked, hard.
Bleat!
“The hell?”
The voice was loud, gruff, and angry. Very angry. And awake. Very awake. Genma looked at Raidou and Raidou looked at Genma. There was another bleat from the bedroom and the voice was back.
“Who the fuck put a sheep in my room?!”
“Run!” Genma yelled, pushing upwards and leaping away, clambering up to a rooftop. Raidou was behind him in half a second, passing Genma in another few steps.
“Shit,” he laughed, leaping to another rooftop, pushing chakra to his feet. “Ibiki’s going to kill us!”
Beauty
Kakashi was a thing to watch. He would lower himself over Iruka, naked but for the mask, and somehow, that just made him look more bare. He would sit down on Iruka’s cock, hands braced against the schoolteacher’s chest, and tilt his head back until it looked like it would snap. He’d rock back and forth, little puffs of breaths sounding suspiciously like groans, and Iruka would watch him, clutching the copy-nin’s waist. Kakashi was beautiful when he was fucking himself on Iruka.
But when Iruka threw him onto the bed, pushed him down onto his hands and knees, and fucked him to heaven above, Kakashi was beautiful then, too. Kakashi was beautiful when he was slumped against the kitchen counter, dick hanging out of his pants, flushed and sweating and panting, and when he was trying to hide an erection in the middle of the mission room. Kakashi was beautiful everywhere Iruka decided to fuck him, and Iruka liked to fuck him. A lot. Everywhere. And every time, Kakashi was beautiful.
But if Kakashi was beautiful, then Iruka was a god.
Iruka and Lee
"Lee-kun?"
Iruka crouched down, reaching out to grab Lee's shoulders. The boy rolled his head around, looking at Iruka blankly.
"Yes?"
Ever the polite boy. Iruka resisted the urge to shake his shoulders a little bit.
"Lee-kun, we need to get you to a hospital. You understand?"
Lee's eyes kept flitting somewhere past Iruka's shoulder, moving back to Iruka slower and slower until he was staring past the teacher.
"I think," he said slowly, mouth barely moving, "that I'm tired. Am I tired, Sensei?"
Iruka's fingers tightened on Lee's shoulders, chilling against the blood. "Just get up, Lee-kun, and you'll be fine."
"I don't think..." Lee dragged his eyes back to Iruka's face, tilting his head. "I'm tired, Iruka-sensei."
"Come on, Lee-kun," Iruka said, pulling Lee up as he pushed himself to his feet. "Let's get you back home."
Lee stumbled when he was pulled onto his feet, falling somewhere between Iruka's arms. He leaned there heavily, face turned against Iruka's vest.
"Do you think," he said very softly, "that Gai-sensei will be proud?"
The teacher wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him steady, and pulled him just a little closer. "I'm sure he will be, Lee-kun."
Stubborn
Sometimes, Kisame forgets that Itachi's still a child. The boy's so strong, so independent, so him, that it's hard to see Itachi as anything other than the life and breath of the Akatsuki. Itachi puts them all to shame, and he's barely seventeen.
Sometimes, though, he'll do something childish, or he'll look at Kisame, completely uncomprehending, and Kisame will feel this flash, red hot and burning, and realize, suddenly, exactly what the Akatsuki is doing. Those times feel a little bit like guilt, and those times, Kisame feels a little bit like dying. But, only sometimes.
Like right now. Right now, Itachi was stubborn, just like a child, and now he's limp in Kisame's arms, not entirely there. The wheels in his eyes are slowing down, fading away to blood red, red blood, red red red, and Kisame's shifting him in his arms, throwing the teenager over his shoulder.
See, sometimes Itachi shows how childish he is with his stupid antics and his stupid stubborn pride and his stupid belief in his own immortality, and Kisame has to save his ass, because Kisame's not so far gone that he'd let a child die. Like now.
So he's wading down into the water, the murky water up to his knees, and his waist, and shoulders, and then his face, and he's pulling Itachi off his shoulder and into the water with him, tugging the boy close to his chest. Kisame hates hiding in water, waiting for the damn hunter-nins to pass them by, but he can't fight them and watch the boy, and sometimes, like now, Kisame just wishes he had a different partner. Preferably an adult.
Kisame breathes through his gills, trying to ignore how it makes him feel sick, and pulls Itachi's face next to his, turning the boy's head so he can cover the pale mouth with his, and breathes into him, giving Itachi air. Again. And again. And again. And Kisame pretends that he doesn't want to throttle the stubborn child who didn't listen and didn't think and just got them into trouble again, forcing them to sit at the bottom of a god damned dirty lake. A lake, it might be added, that's cold.
Kisame's pretending isn't working so well.
By the time Kisame drags them both out of the lake, dripping onto the scraggly grass, Itachi's almost back. His eyes are a little more clear, not quite dull, and he's staring at Kisame, a wondering look in his eyes. He touches Kisame's cheek, soft hands with callouses in all the wrong places, and gives Kisame a strange smile.
"Mermaid," he says, voice lilting and dropping and whispering away, and Kisame remembers how much of a child Itachi really is. And right now, when Itachi has that look in his eyes, the look that says he's not quite here, and he's not quite there, and he really doesn't know where he is, Kisame doesn't really want to straggle the brat.
Not much, anyways.
“Push it in, just push it in!”
“Quiet,” Raidou hissed, straining. Genma snarled at him, clutching the scarred man’s arm, and dug in his broken nails.
“Just push it the fuck in!”
“Quiet quiet quiet quiet,” Raidou chanted fiercely at him. “It won’t fit, and someone will get hurt, and then where will we be? At the hospital?”
Genma punched Raidou’s arm, hard, and Raidou stopped dead, glaring at Genma.
“When I say someone, Genma, I mean you. So stop trying to rush me, you stupid bastard.”
Genma groaned, leaning his head against Raidou’s shoulder, then turned his face away. “Fine. Take your time. I don’t care. Asshole.”
Raidou growled, shoved hard, and smiled madly at Genma with sharp, white teeth. Genma’s head snapped back and he looked at Raidou, mouth falling open.
“Shit, Raidou, be careful. Was it supposed to make that sound?”
Raidou’s smile widened and he shoved again. “Now you want me to be careful?” A shove. “Now you want me to be careful?” Another shove. “Now?”
“Raidou, seriously, be careful. It’s not supposed to make that sound, I know it! What if it’s bleeding?”
Raidou paused, holding very still. “You think,” he started, worried, “it’s bleeding?”
Genma punched Raidou’s arm again, face twisted up. “Don’t worry about it now, just hurry up and shove it all the way in. Come on, Raidou, put some back into it.”
“Shut up,” Raidou groaned, “I’m the one doing all the work. You just lie back and enjoy the show.”
“Hell yeah I will.”
“I said shut up.” Raidou pushed one last time, hard, then leaned on his hands, panting. “There, it’s in. Happy now?”
“Yes. Now poke it, or something. Get it going.” Genma squirmed and Raidou swallowed, leaning a bit closer.
“Poke it? Where?”
“I don’t know, anywhere. Just get it going.”
“Fine fine fine. Right here good?” Raidou asked. Genma nodded and Raidou extended his finger, pressing it in very carefully.
“Seriously, Raidou, if it didn’t break already, nothing’s going to break it now. Seriously, hit it or something. Come on,” Genma whined. Raidou made a face at him, then poked, hard.
Bleat!
“The hell?”
The voice was loud, gruff, and angry. Very angry. And awake. Very awake. Genma looked at Raidou and Raidou looked at Genma. There was another bleat from the bedroom and the voice was back.
“Who the fuck put a sheep in my room?!”
“Run!” Genma yelled, pushing upwards and leaping away, clambering up to a rooftop. Raidou was behind him in half a second, passing Genma in another few steps.
“Shit,” he laughed, leaping to another rooftop, pushing chakra to his feet. “Ibiki’s going to kill us!”
Beauty
Kakashi was a thing to watch. He would lower himself over Iruka, naked but for the mask, and somehow, that just made him look more bare. He would sit down on Iruka’s cock, hands braced against the schoolteacher’s chest, and tilt his head back until it looked like it would snap. He’d rock back and forth, little puffs of breaths sounding suspiciously like groans, and Iruka would watch him, clutching the copy-nin’s waist. Kakashi was beautiful when he was fucking himself on Iruka.
But when Iruka threw him onto the bed, pushed him down onto his hands and knees, and fucked him to heaven above, Kakashi was beautiful then, too. Kakashi was beautiful when he was slumped against the kitchen counter, dick hanging out of his pants, flushed and sweating and panting, and when he was trying to hide an erection in the middle of the mission room. Kakashi was beautiful everywhere Iruka decided to fuck him, and Iruka liked to fuck him. A lot. Everywhere. And every time, Kakashi was beautiful.
But if Kakashi was beautiful, then Iruka was a god.
Iruka and Lee
"Lee-kun?"
Iruka crouched down, reaching out to grab Lee's shoulders. The boy rolled his head around, looking at Iruka blankly.
"Yes?"
Ever the polite boy. Iruka resisted the urge to shake his shoulders a little bit.
"Lee-kun, we need to get you to a hospital. You understand?"
Lee's eyes kept flitting somewhere past Iruka's shoulder, moving back to Iruka slower and slower until he was staring past the teacher.
"I think," he said slowly, mouth barely moving, "that I'm tired. Am I tired, Sensei?"
Iruka's fingers tightened on Lee's shoulders, chilling against the blood. "Just get up, Lee-kun, and you'll be fine."
"I don't think..." Lee dragged his eyes back to Iruka's face, tilting his head. "I'm tired, Iruka-sensei."
"Come on, Lee-kun," Iruka said, pulling Lee up as he pushed himself to his feet. "Let's get you back home."
Lee stumbled when he was pulled onto his feet, falling somewhere between Iruka's arms. He leaned there heavily, face turned against Iruka's vest.
"Do you think," he said very softly, "that Gai-sensei will be proud?"
The teacher wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him steady, and pulled him just a little closer. "I'm sure he will be, Lee-kun."
Stubborn
Sometimes, Kisame forgets that Itachi's still a child. The boy's so strong, so independent, so him, that it's hard to see Itachi as anything other than the life and breath of the Akatsuki. Itachi puts them all to shame, and he's barely seventeen.
Sometimes, though, he'll do something childish, or he'll look at Kisame, completely uncomprehending, and Kisame will feel this flash, red hot and burning, and realize, suddenly, exactly what the Akatsuki is doing. Those times feel a little bit like guilt, and those times, Kisame feels a little bit like dying. But, only sometimes.
Like right now. Right now, Itachi was stubborn, just like a child, and now he's limp in Kisame's arms, not entirely there. The wheels in his eyes are slowing down, fading away to blood red, red blood, red red red, and Kisame's shifting him in his arms, throwing the teenager over his shoulder.
See, sometimes Itachi shows how childish he is with his stupid antics and his stupid stubborn pride and his stupid belief in his own immortality, and Kisame has to save his ass, because Kisame's not so far gone that he'd let a child die. Like now.
So he's wading down into the water, the murky water up to his knees, and his waist, and shoulders, and then his face, and he's pulling Itachi off his shoulder and into the water with him, tugging the boy close to his chest. Kisame hates hiding in water, waiting for the damn hunter-nins to pass them by, but he can't fight them and watch the boy, and sometimes, like now, Kisame just wishes he had a different partner. Preferably an adult.
Kisame breathes through his gills, trying to ignore how it makes him feel sick, and pulls Itachi's face next to his, turning the boy's head so he can cover the pale mouth with his, and breathes into him, giving Itachi air. Again. And again. And again. And Kisame pretends that he doesn't want to throttle the stubborn child who didn't listen and didn't think and just got them into trouble again, forcing them to sit at the bottom of a god damned dirty lake. A lake, it might be added, that's cold.
Kisame's pretending isn't working so well.
By the time Kisame drags them both out of the lake, dripping onto the scraggly grass, Itachi's almost back. His eyes are a little more clear, not quite dull, and he's staring at Kisame, a wondering look in his eyes. He touches Kisame's cheek, soft hands with callouses in all the wrong places, and gives Kisame a strange smile.
"Mermaid," he says, voice lilting and dropping and whispering away, and Kisame remembers how much of a child Itachi really is. And right now, when Itachi has that look in his eyes, the look that says he's not quite here, and he's not quite there, and he really doesn't know where he is, Kisame doesn't really want to straggle the brat.
Not much, anyways.
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-02 01:20 am (UTC)The KakashiIruka was, of course, just terribly hot. And well done. And did I mention hot?
It's good to see Lee... a lot of writers (and I am so guilty of this isn't not even funny) tend to let him stay in Gai's shadow.
And you manage to write an Itachi I don't immediately wish dead. This, truly, is an accomplishment.