#kabusaso

His new contact’s profile is sparse, with photographs that only display a slight figure masked in black, with brilliantly crimson hair that drew the eye at once. An artist by trade, 'Exploring', their status said, which leaves even more to the imagination.

It often only takes one strikingly unique feature to catch Kabuto's visual interest, to make him wonder; to call to his analytical side, which loves to break down each solitary detail of a play partner until the origin of its nature is revealed. Until their true nature is revealed right along with it.

Whether it is skin like a bleach-splashed canvas, or cat-like golden eyes, his long-term partners have always been unique. Both of the latter possessed features that were the result of rare conditions, or genetic mutations that made said partners even more captivating, whether under the lash... or wielding it.

With the prospect of a new connection, all Kabuto knows for sure is that his date has hair like spun garnets, a certain cruel twist to a delicate mouth, and eyes like a fine umeshu. Not exactly unique, but there is still something there that captures his imagination.

Perhaps the artist is merely very good at their trade, taking a skilled hand to the composition of their photographs. Looks can certainly be deceiving—he should have predicted that his expectations would be turned on their head.

Which is how Kabuto finds himself trussed and stripped and poised on his knees before said artist once their negotiations are dispensed with.

Finely manicured fingertips caress the line of his spine before nails scratch, three at once, raising lines of glowing sensation across his shoulder blades. And they don’t stop their downward trek, marking Kabuto, making him gasp. The air makes a sharp sound passing through his teeth.

“You’ll do, but for more reasons than you think. Reasons you may not expect.” Sasori says, “And for exactly those reasons, you’ll give me everything I want.”

“Will I?”

That hand takes hold of a generous handful of his hair and steadily pulls him back, forcing him to arch his spine. Those cruel lips brush Kabuto’s ear as Sasori speaks, his soft voice bright with amusement, “You will, or this little kingdom you’ve built for yourself will be winnowed away into dust and thrust into the wind for anyone to take. Admit it… you want me anyway.”

The words are smug even in their gentle tone, accented by soft puffs of humid breath against Kabuto’s neck, his loosened hair. He cannot see Sasori’s eyes, and a small, creeping desperation begins in the pit of his belly. Sasori pulls harder, making him twist, rubied lips nipping Kabuto’s own briefly, roughly.

“You should have known better than to seek me out when you’re entirely that snake’s creature… he did have rather delightful tastes though. Did you kneel for him too? Recount all your dirty little secrets for him?”

“You know I did,” Kabuto grits his teeth as Sasori’s dainty fist tightens harder in his hair.

“I know you did, which is why I’ll make sure he sees every lurid moment of this if you don’t do exactly as I like. And then you know he’ll cast you away for dallying with me, faithless boy...”

The threat feels real, so damn real that goosebumps chase the lengths of his limbs, and Kabuto shivers, allowing fear to catapult him closer to compliance. His pulse notches higher and his mouth runs dry. Sasori releases him as if throwing him back down again, but it’s only the effective toppling of his own weight. Every new touch is feather light, even as the artist’s hands explore his body, shoving him onto all fours, undignified, yet perfectly on display.

Sasori’s breath ripples down his spine, the wet heat of his tongue drifting along the lines his own nails followed in the moments prior. Blood rushes in Kabuto’s ears, and his pale hair falls forward, obscuring his burning cheeks as he sinks lower on his elbows, allowing Sasori full access to his body.

“Shameless and pretty all at once, just look at you, ready for anything,” Sasori muses, “I’d hate to keep you waiting.”

Sasori’s questing, tormenting hands begin to part him wide, exposing him further, nails digging into the softer flesh of his buttocks. Kabuto grits his teeth as Sasori’s wicked tongue plies at his hole, two deft fingers moving to spread wetness around the orifice before one of them dips inside him with ease.

“Ready for anything, indeed.”

A bottle clicks and cool slick drips over his skin, making Sasori’s next movements nearly effortless. He dips in and out with shallow strokes, toying at the edges of Kabuto’s passage, As Sasori bends to bite the curve of his hip, sharp and hot like a brand. He knows without knowing that the artist has marked him, and Kabuto gasps, placing a fist beneath his lips to muffle any noises which might come unbidden.

He fails, of course, when Sasori laughs against his skin, finding his prostate with near expert precision.

The pressure inside him shifts wider, deeper as digits spread and curl, scraping against nerves suddenly sensitized beyond compare. Kabuto’s sight wavers as if plunged underwater, his cock hard and already dripping, too much, too soon. Sasori’s methodical exploration only continues, with another finger wedging in place beside the others.

“You’re so needy that I’m almost thinking you could take my whole hand. You would if I wanted you too, wouldn’t you, greedy boy?” Sasori’s fingers drag and exploit every new bit of knowledge he’s gained until Kabuto is unable to stem the pleading noises that are not quite muffled by his fist.

“Use your words.”

“I--I can but it’s-it’s-too-much!” He blurts, his voice arching higher on the last few words. Kabuto’s face burns and his head swims, and he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the urge to shove back anyway and chase the high that is just outside of his capability.

Sasori gives a chuffing little laugh, teasing his pinky finger just along the rim of him until Kabuto whines, and with a twist of his hand, all four enter to press and tease.

“Oh, good boy… you’re going to come just like this, only accepting what I give you for as long as it takes…”

It doesn’t take long at all for his voice to break the silence, for sticky heat to spatter his belly and the floor beneath him. For oblivion to cloud his mind and numb his awareness.

But it’s only the first part of their night.

Later, after Kabuto has been wrung out in every way he might have imagined, he is treated to a massage and a short rest wrapped in a warm blanket. His pretty new play partner fetches his things and offers him a drink. White tea, hot and perfect.

“So tell me, did we explore everything you wanted to?” Sasori appraises him from head to toe, searching for unease. The artist is more attentive than Kabuto had imagined, leaving no detail unexamined. It’s no wonder that he has connections with individuals that Kabuto respects among their circles.

“Ahh… yes, thank you for following the plan.”

"Any Dominant worth their salt would do no less. Your illustrious mentor failed you if he didn't set that expectation." Sasori sniffs, still maintaining physical contact.

Kabuto hazards a wry smile. "He did. I'd have stopped everything in its tracks if you'd been lacking. But as it stands I'd like to see you again."

Sasori gives a curt nod, but the softening of his mouth gives away his satisfaction. "So long as you never leave me waiting, we’ll have much to explore."

He hated this. He hated everything about this dream. All of it.

He had no idea who this man was that was fucking Deidara, but by the identity fo their hair color and "those eyes" of theirs, it was obvious that it was Sasori... or at least his real body that he couldn't see clearly. His mind could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

With all of his might, he wanted to leave and get out of this situation as quick as he could, but his body moved on it's own despite his audible protests to be excused and even promised to pretend that he didn't see the two "together". But it was of no use, his face grimaced at the sight of sweat drenched naked Deidara kneeling before him, despite that he was also slightly aroused by the allure of their blue eyes staring back up at him as they take him into his mouth.

He hated to admit that Deidara was quite beautiful in their own way despite that his beauty was ruined by his personality.

No matter how much he tried to repress his emotions to not get aroused by this, he still did and he even found himself gripping onto the blond's hair and pushing him more against his cock.

While his mind slowly loses itself to the warm feeling of pleasure all over his body, he couldn't even hear Sasori's voice and Deidara pulling away from him made him grit his teeth in frustration.

Sasori was in complete control of the both of them. He and Deidara were nothing more than his own puppets to be used for their depraved entertainment. And there was no way for Kabuto to escape like this.

Kabuto felt sick at the sight of Deidara and before he could have the chance to escape, he was forced inside of the blond and he could feel them squeezing around him so well. His face scrunches up as both hands grip tightly onto their hips till he leaves his own set of bruises among Sasori's. Before he could even pull out of Deidara, his body tensed at the intrusion of Sasori's lubed up finger inside of him and he felt his pants pulled and now fall to his ankles.

No!

His eyes shut tight as they swiftly thrusted inside of him while the teen in front of him pushes himself against Kabuto, making Kabuto let out a startled and erotic groan as his head hangs low, overwhelmed by the two using him for their own pleasure. Now with Sasori inside of him, there was no way that he wanted out of this despite his mixed feelings of this situation.

Even after Deidara was finished and exhausted from their twisted threesome, Kabuto could feel them sadistically and cruelly watching Sasori completely dominate and force himself onto Kabuto while letting out some mocking words to him, as Kabuto not only came several times reluctantly, but Sasori did too inside of Kabuto.

Over, and over, and over again...

Kabuto forces himself to wake up and without even realizing it, he immediately ran to the bathroom in his room to throw up the sour bile that was forming in his throat and gut after his heart felt like it was going to erupt from his chest. His pants and underwear were sticky and soaked from his own orgasms but that didn't matter to him since he felt disgusting and violated all over so he felt no pleasure from this. Looking around the room and recognizing the walls of the hideout that didn't belong to the Akatsuki, he was so thankful that he was here. Safe and sound despite his body feeling the way it felt. He needed a serious bath, and some more sleep since he wanted to hopefully forget about the "dream" with another hopefully different dream.