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Beyond his obvious obsession with money, there were three very important things Hidan knew about Kakuzu better than anyone else:
- He was extremely meticulous when it came to expense reports;
- He hated noise, like the good old great-uncle he was;
- He was a first-rate, absolute bastard.
Above all, Kakuzu was nowhere near the kind of man one would call fair — much less trustworthy in any sort of deal. Hidan, therefore, very much wanted to understand what the hell had gone through his head when he accepted the “terms” of that agreement. Regret over his impulsive decision had surfaced almost immediately, lurking over his tense shoulders at the exact moment the old man lowered his mask and let a perverse smile slip free.
It had been a terrible moment. For someone whose expression rarely strayed from severity, even the slightest spasm of good humor was cause for suspicion and fear. Hidan had shuddered all over at the sight of it. For a brief instant — the precise interval between the birth of Kakuzu’s smile and the death of his own — he had the distinct impression that karma’s heavy hand was patting him on the back.
Anticipating disaster, he blamed the profound boredom that had taken hold of him. It was Thursday night, for Jashin’s sake; December thirty-first, eleven at night, on top of that. They should have been somewhere, drinking until they dropped, laughing loudly in an overpriced tavern in some politically questionable village, one of those places that didn’t shut its doors just because it saw bandanas. Anywhere would have done, honestly.
Anywhere that wasn’t the Akatsuki base.
Inside, the boredom was suffocating. Everything was too dark — the lighting depended on torches! — too quiet, and steeped in the smell of ancient metal. Although there was some movement because of New Year’s Eve — after all, none of them had families to go back to, and missions at that time of year were in extremely poor taste— Hidan couldn’t bring himself to care about anyone besides Kakuzu — sometimes— and Deidara, when convenient. Being confined with nothing even remotely interesting to do while watching his idiot partner work instead of celebrate was simply outrageous.
“Hidan, I told you to be quiet. Didn’t you agree to be quiet?”
Kakuzu’s voice was low, slightly rough from lack of use over the past few hours. Hidan shuddered again, clenching his fists in a handful of fabric, lips pressed together so tightly they hurt. It was the second time he’d heard that sentence — and perhaps the fourth or fifth time the word quiet had been thrown at him.
Quiet. A state he simply could not maintain.
He had tried, at first, driven by an almost profound understanding of his partner’s psyche and the possible consequences —a fight, a heated argument — but none of what he’d anticipated had happened. Kakuzu hadn’t tried to kick him out into another room, silence him through violence, or sew his mouth shut with the threads of the jiongu.
Instead, he had set the papers and pencil down on the table and stared at him in silence. Hidan was immediately caught by the intensity of that gaze, freezing on the bench beside him; the hand that had spent the last three minutes poking him incessantly fell slack, and his mouth closed. Like a child caught misbehaving, he stiffened, attempting an expression of remorse — a futile effort, since Kakuzu didn’t even grant him a longer inspection.
All he did was say, with absolute calm:
“Do you want something to do, Hidan?”
And Hidan — well. He suspected nothing.
After all, the two of them had already moved past — at least to some degree — the phase of mutual attempts at homicide. There was something between them: indefinable, illogical, but something. And so he trusted the other’s words blindly; his stimulus-starved mind accepted anything it was offered. Maybe, he’d thought at the time, he had invented some task just to get rid of me. A fair deal, as long as it yielded some benefit in the end.
“All you need to do is stay quiet for a while, and I’ll reward you generously.”
Kakuzu was tense and stressed. Unfortunately, Hidan only truly noticed that fact at the moment he nodded, almost hypnotized by the other’s rough, controlled tone. In the very next instant, he felt nothing but firm hands gripping his hips and pulling him down, forcing him to sit directly in his lap.
Take off your pants and turn around, were the next orders. From then on, all the signs became obvious.
His partner was not a patient man, much less a tolerant one; he was the devil, really, with a terrible temper and insensitively violent tendencies. The serenity with which he had conducted the conversation should have given the trap away — but Hidan, deeply captivated by the other’s spell, had been a fool. The consequences of his permissiveness — lightly sentimental, dangerously deliberate — over the past few months were now exploding right in front of him. If this had happened at the beginning of their partnership, he would never have fallen for that velvety, deceitful tone!
“Hidan.”
“Shut the fuck up, Kakuzu,” he muttered, breathless, tense, and genuinely irritated.
One thing was staying silent. That he could manage, with considerable effort; occupying himself with his own thoughts wasn’t all that difficult when there was no alternative. Staying quiet, however…
“You’re a fucking idiot, a motherfucking sadist, damn it.”
… became especially complicated in a situation like that.
Kakuzu was an old man with a certain attachment to tradition. Instead of a regular desk, he preferred to spread his papers over a horigotatsu. The table was low, the floor recessed, and the chair was nothing more than a cushion with a backrest. Hidan’s knees, therefore, pressed directly against the ground; the weight and tension of his body compressed flesh against polished stone, and a constant thread of pain radiated up his thigh, tearing irregular huffs from his chest. All he wanted was to move, relieve the pressure, find a minimally comfortable position.
But moving meant sinking the cock even deeper inside himself.
Fuck, Kakuzu was big. Not just long, but thick to the point of discomfort — to the point of making him feel full and heavy every time he took it; to the point of pain. And Hidan loved it. Truly loved it. He reveled in the pressure against his stomach, in the sharp sensation of being filled, struck brutally and forced to endure.
Here, however, condemned to the imposed conditions, the experience was nothing but torture.
One of Kakuzu’s hands remained firm at his waist, pinning him in a rigid position. Fingertips slid over his skin, pinching him casually whenever he felt like it, and he seemed completely at ease: steady breathing brushing Hidan’s nape from time to time, attention entirely focused on the accounts in front of him. The pencil scratched over the paper in smooth lines, blending with the muffled sound of voices outside the room; Kisame, apparently, announcing to someone that they had beer.
It almost felt like an ordinary moment. One of those mundane days when Hidan ended up falling asleep on the floor beside him, exhausted after a morning of missions, and not being used to warm that thick cock like a goddamn fleshlight.
“You’re breathing too loudly,” Kakuzu complained, right by his ear. “Is it really that hard for you to give me a little peace?”
Hidan clenched his fists hard, until he felt his nails press into the skin beneath his clothes. It was easy for Kakuzu to grumble and act all self-assured, to treat him like a nuisance while using him for his own pleasure. Petty piece of shit.
“My knees are hurting, you idiot.”
“Then sit properly. You’re the one who put yourself in that uncomfortable position.”
But if he actually sat down, the weight of his own body would impale him even further, forcing all that thickness against the most sensitive point inside him. Even like this, only lightly settled, Kakuzu was already deeply buried within him — and, although there were no rough movements, the sensation of veins throbbing deliciously against his walls was enough to leave him hazy.
His own cock throbbed painfully, begging for a touch that would relieve the pressure — however, the black threads wrapped around his glans kept him from coming or even touching himself. Whenever he tried to move, the tendrils whipped at his hands.
The knuckles of his fingers were red and bloody from the last times he had tried.
“Tsc.”
Suddenly, Kakuzu lifted his hips abruptly. One more centimeter of his penis slid inside, and Hidan sighed, enraptured, his hips rocking in response before he could even think — chasing that minimal ripple that set the pit of his stomach ablaze.
Fuuuuuck.
It was too good to have Kakuzu inside him; to feel the superficial brush of the shaft against his prostate, the promise of fullness approaching slowly…
“You’re such a troublesome, Hidan. I ask for something so simple, and even then you’re incapable of complying.”
Another movement. This time, both of Kakuzu’s hands clamped onto his waist, preventing any reaction. A muffled cry tore from him when the tip of the member scraped directly against his prostate, a white flash of pure pleasure that swept the pain from his knees and replaced it with a far more urgent fire.
Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Kakuzu’s neck, burying his face in the curtain of brown hair. The strands tickled his nose, mingling with sweat and ragged breathing.
“Mhmurgh, shut up,” he growled, shuddering violently when a harsher pinch to his waist answered the insolence. “You… are so… irritating…”
“I could say the same,” Kakuzu shot back, an ill-contained roughness now edging his voice. The hands on his waist dug in harder, marking the flesh. “I have work to finish before midnight, but you turn productivity into a joke.”
“It was your idea.”
Kakuzu set the pencil back to the paper; the soft rustle settled between them.
“It was the only way to keep you contained and relieve my own tension at the same time.”
Selfish bastard, Hidan thought, a hot, exciting fury flooding his body as he slowly prepared to give in to the tension coiled in his hips. He wouldn’t be able to stay like that much longer: his lower back burned from the effort of keeping his spine straight, caught in the primitive hesitation of self-preservation — an ironic feeling, since he was panting just from imagining himself sliding down the length of that flesh, anticipating the satisfied shiver that would tear through him when he found himself completely stuffed.
He bit his lips. He wanted to tear Kakuzu apart, curse him the way he always did, but he didn’t dare say a word out loud — he feared what would escape would be soft groans, drawn from deep in his throat, exposing him to vulnerability, revealing how acutely aware he was of his own desires. His body, after all, was already betraying him: his hips traced slow circles, grinding the staggering pressure in his belly, yearning for the brutality that would make him jolt beneath those thick thighs.
Fuck, he couldn’t want anything else. He couldn’t even wish to be somewhere else — it was good to be used like that. Good to be held in an uncomfortable position, exposed, with aching knees, a tightening stomach, and a throbbing cock every time the black threads slid over it, squeezing his testicles, slipping into his urethra to prevent any attempt at relief. It was agonizing; unbearably good.
“Don’t be stubborn, Hidan,” Kakuzu said, in a low tone. “Instead of torturing yourself, just lower yourself. Maybe you’ll quiet down after that; maybe I’ll reconsider rewarding you.”
Maybe you’ll reconsider?, Hidan thought of snapping — but he didn’t even have time. Impatient, bastardly, and frankly probably exhausted by his stalling, Kakuzu acted. His hands forced Hidan’s hips downward, folding his legs completely, while his own hips rose at a perfect angle. The air was knocked from Hidan’s lungs in a rough impact; he choked, gasping, burying his face against Kakuzu’s shoulder, cheeks burning with pure arousal.
All at once, he was impaled to the hilt — until he felt the testicles press against him, until the thickness filled every available millimeter and stretched his abdomen into a visible bulge.
Oh, god.
The pressure was overwhelming; the fullness drew a sigh of appreciation from him, but shame made him curl in on himself — he knew, even without looking, that his body had adapted very well to the intrusion. By that point, it had become almost natural.
With familiar curiosity, he brought a trembling hand to his belly and touched the obscene outline forming there. The skin was taut and warm — beneath his fingers, he felt the shape of the glans. He shuddered as he pressed down, a smile tracing his lips when Kakuzu huffed heavily.
“Stop moving,” he demanded, in a disturbingly calm tone. “Settle down. I won’t be long.”
Hidan was far too disoriented to even argue with the demand for submission. His head hissed like a broken radio; his chest rose and fell in short, irregular breaths and, despite the earlier words, his hips moved of their own accord, grinding even harder against the hot, comforting weight inside him, desperate to feel the electrifying friction against his sensitive interior.
The response to the disobedience was immediate: the black threads wrapped around his cock and balls tightened into a firm fist, squeezing hard until a miserable, high-pitched moan slipped free — more distressed than pleasurable.
“For once in your life,” Kakuzu warned, “listen to me.”
Hidan moaned at length. “I don’t want to listen to you, fuck.”
Kakuzu thrust against him, hard enough to leave him gaping.
“So you want the others to listen, then? We’re not alone here. Anyone can hear you moaning.”
Hidan shrugged, eyes wet with pleasure. Kakuzu was doing it on purpose; it was obvious — provoking him deliberately, exploiting the perversity of being involved in something so intimate while a bunch of homicidal idiots celebrated in nearby rooms. Knowing that, at any moment, someone could open the office door and find him nearly fused to the other’s body, possessed and at his mercy, was tempting. So tempting that he couldn’t stop himself from clenching at the thought, squeezing and sucking the cock inside him, moaning hoarsely as he felt the rigid flesh throb and rub against his inner walls.
Fuck. He was going to die that night — and it wouldn’t even be to honor Jashin.
“You really are a slut, Hidan,” Kakuzu murmured by his ear, bringing one hand to his lower back and pressing him down. “Milking me just from hearing about the possibility of being caught.”
Hidan’s thighs trembled. His penis, proudly erect against the other’s clothed abdomen, pulsed eagerly — swollen, restrained, incapable of spilling a single drop of cum.
“I swear… I’ll get revenge on you…”
Kakuzu showed not the slightest interest. “Oh, yeah?”
“I’ll rip out your heart and— mmmph...”
Kakuzu didn’t need his hands to punish him. A cluster of threads emerged only to lift him by the waist and drop him heavily onto his lap once more. Hidan screamed — his head fell back, eyes rolled in their sockets, mouth parted by the intense pleasure.
“You’re so irritating,” Kakuzu scolded, as if he hadn’t been the one to make him bounce on his cock.
Hidan grunted something almost unintelligible — and you’re a fucking idiot — and took a deep breath. His whole body trembled, tense and needy; random spasms kept him from staying still, his thighs vibrating around the other’s firm waist, his eyelids heavy.
Kakuzu’s free hand slid up to his back, scratching at him. The ticklish sensation made him arch — the muffled laugh he heard made the intentions obvious.
“... You’re irritating,” Hidan murmured, his tongue heavy, his nose brushing against Kakuzu’s neck.
His face burned with heat; his eyes were blurred. The combination of stimulation and deprivation pushed his body into an eccentric kind of exhaustion — he felt heavy, dizzy, slowly going slack until he became a shapeless mass in Kakuzu’s lap.
He took a deep breath. Kakuzu’s scent flooded his senses with intensity: the woody, earthy note of his skin, the acidic residue of torch smoke, the acrid sweat of restrained effort. It was an unpleasant scent, masculine, his. And Hidan intoxicated himself with it.
His eyelids fluttered. Gradually, the sharp pain of the stretch receded, melding into a throbbing, constant fullness. He realized he had adapted to the presence — his body accommodating the thickness —, his mouth watering as strings of saliva slowly slipped down his chin.
The hand on his back moved down and up. It was almost a caress — lacking delicacy, but making up for it with hypnotic, repetitive motions, lulling him amid external sounds: the rustle of pencil on paper, the steady breathing at his ear, the hearts beating in sync against his chest.
Kakuzu sighed suddenly. “You really can be a pretty little thing when you behave.”
Hidan grumbled, weakly. He had slipped into a trance, oblivious to his surroundings, while trying at all costs to control the shivers that ran through his gut whenever Kakuzu stretched or adjusted his posture. His thighs trembled under the contained tension — it was painful. As if aware of that, the touch on his back slid down to his legs; thick fingers kneaded the taut flesh, and a haze of docile pleasure made him moan softly.
He was deeply aroused, yet incapable of rebellion. Drained of any drive, he had resigned himself to the position of an object — to the comfortable state of a good sheath of flesh, keeping Kakuzu safe and warm within his body.
How exciting. It was depraved in a delicious way; beneath his lids, his eyes rolled back whenever an involuntary trickle of pre-cum leaked into his hole, marking him from the inside little by little, moistening him and making him increasingly pliable.
If Kakuzu went deep enough, maybe he could taste it at the back of his own tongue. Salty and metallic, like blood, but different.
“Shhh.” A breath brushed his neck, and Hidan shivered.
Hell. He hadn’t even known he was capable of such degeneration. The agony of passive submission slowly unraveled his last threads of sanity. How was it possible to feel so aroused and, at the same time, so sexually frustrated?
I must be losing my mind, he thought vaguely, resting his sweaty forehead against Kakuzu’s shoulder, feeling the man’s body settle and, inevitably, bury itself even deeper inside him — a micro-impact that tore a shaky sigh from his chest.
Minutes passed — or perhaps a whole hour — of pure frustration and need for release. Hidan didn’t realize he was drifting between everything and nothing until awareness snapped back abruptly: a crash outside made him jolt and moan in regret at the same instant.
“Tsk.” Kakuzu shot a glance at the door and, when Hidan turned his face just enough, he saw him knit his brows. “It’s probably close to midnight.”
The assumption was confirmed by Deidara’s shrill shout outside, tangled in an argument with Tobi’s unmistakably irritating timbre: “— someone needs to do the countdown!”
Hidan blinked slowly. His head tipped back, neck stretched, gaze lost on the desk; the papers were perfectly aligned, the columns of numbers meticulously filled in. His brain, once muddled, tied itself into another knot.
A knot that came undone the instant Kakuzu stood up.
The world suddenly tilted; Hidan had only a second to grab onto the broad shoulders before falling. The upward motion drove the cock inside him at a brutal angle, burying it so deep that a sharp, glorious pain exploded in his lower belly, making him see white stars. He nearly sobbed, breath caught.
“Fuck, you son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, only to be violently thrown to the floor. “Shit, warn a man!”
Kakuzu huffed close to his ear. His breath was heavy, hot, and for the first time Hidan realized just how much the man was restraining himself as well.
The notion — opening before him as something extraordinary — filled him with sudden determination. Propped on his elbows, he lifted himself until his face was inches from Kakuzu’s.
Green eyes stared back at him with depth; the intensity never failed to leave him slightly perplexed, captivated by the way the emerald shade stood out against the red.
“Can I be rewarded now?” he whispered hoarsely, smiling as he brushed his mouth against Kakuzu’s.
Kakuzu answered by grabbing his legs and bracing them over his own shoulders. The sudden exposure tore a loud, breathless moan from him. His head fell back heavily, a bead of sweat sliding from the bridge of his nose to his lips.
“Mhhgnn, fuck, Kaku-zu…”
“If you keep that up, they’ll hear you,” he warned, though there was no concern whatsoever in his tone.
Hidan wasn’t concerned either. He could hear Konan’s voice saying something, mixed with the typical murmur of a group of people who probably hated each other, forced to socialize by some idiotic habit.
“Fuck them,” he growled, turning his face against the arm, teeth clenched. “Just…”, he forced the words out between hoarse breaths, “fuck me. Fuck me, I can’t take waiting anymore…”
Kakuzu’s eyes darkened; his brows arched with that familiar arrogance that always irritated Hidan deeply and, at the same time, set his stomach on fire.
“You’re insatiable.”
“Your cock is hard inside me, damn it.”
Kakuzu ignored the comment, the proud idiot that he was. He pulled away, removing the cloak and exposing bronzed, muscular arms. Hidan had a single second to admire them before being forced to rid himself of the rest of his clothes as well, laid bare in complete nudity, only to be grabbed by the arms and turned face-down on the floor.
He nearly broke his nose with the roughness; a protesting moan caught in his throat, but he managed to brace himself at the last second, brows furrowed. The angry glare dissolved into an obscene roll of the eyes when Kakuzu, without ceremony, shoved back into him in a single thrust.
The pain and burning nearly pushed him over the edge.
“Holy shit…”
Hidan tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but Kakuzu stopped him, gripping his arms and crossing them behind his back. That way, he was forced to keep his cheek pressed against the cold floor.
“Here’s your reward,” the other whispered, pulling him until his hips were raised.
Hidan moaned, enthralled. His wrists were held tightly, the skin reddening as time passed. Kakuzu drove into him with enough force to turn his insides over, claiming every inch with a furious, petty urgency.
Delicious. Exactly the way he liked it: the prolonged burn, the sweet taste of brutality spilling as small tears of pleasure from the corners of his eyes, while he felt the thick penis slide relentlessly along his walls.
“F-fuck… Ah, shit, Jash…”
Kakuzu loved seeing him whimper; every time he heard him babble, he rewarded him with a hard thrust, hammering his insides until his mouth filled with saliva and his cheek ached from the pressure and the scrape against the floor.
The collision of their bodies was audible — wet plap-plap-plap sounds echoed through the room, mingling with drunken murmurs.
“So loud,” he heard, before a large hand closed over his mouth. “You’ll draw the attention of the whole base.”
It wasn’t a gentle movement. Fingers pressed against his jaw, slipped between his lips without asking permission, forcing their way in until he yielded. With no choice, Hidan took them in; his tongue obedient, far too submissive to resist.
“Quiet,” Kakuzu ordered, but it was a farce.
He wanted to make him scream. He wanted to leave him panting and flushed, because, despite the petty demands, he made no effort whatsoever to maintain any appearance of discretion. The rhythm he imposed was rough, dragging almost completely out before returning with an impact that made his bones tremble.
And fuck, it felt so good.
Hidan had waited far too long for that. His breath escaped in small sobs; his hips moved to meet every thrust, his back arched to take more. He was finally scratching that unbearable itch inside himself and it was exquisite.
“…Three!… Two!… One!…”
Outside, the voices joined in a rising chorus. A loud burst that wavered between monotonous and enthusiastic, accompanied by a few halfhearted claps; the pop of a barrel seal being opened sounded at the exact moment Kakuzu braced both arms beside his head and drove himself even more violently inside.
“It’s a shame,” Kakuzu murmured, breathless, yanking him by the silver strands. “No one can hear you moaning like a prostitute. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Hidan’s face burned with humiliation, but the way his neglected cock throbbed against his own stomach betrayed his arousal. Kakuzu laughed when he noticed; it took less than a second for his fingers to wrap around the sensitive flesh — this time, stroking it provocatively instead of restraining it with threads, as before.
Hidan pressed his forehead to the floor. “Damn it, you bastard…”
Kakuzu pulled his hair even harder. Hidan was forced to arch his spine; the new angle made him drool. There was no time even to catch his breath — the hand kept him locked in that position, hips slamming into his with violence.
The sound of their bodies colliding blended with the distant chorus, with the muffled laughter outside — an indistinct mass of noise, as if the world had been forcibly pushed away.
Hidan moaned shamelessly when Kakuzu drove into him to the hilt, again and again. Saliva spilled down his chin; his eyes rolled back as pleasure surged in waves too fast to control.
“Look at you,” Kakuzu said, his tone roughened. “Maybe this is the only time I can stand you making so much noise...”
His fingers tightened around Hidan’s cock, the motion calculated to push him even closer to the edge; the rough palm against the sensitive, already-stimulated glans drew tears of pain and pleasure alike.
“Mhhmm...”
Hidan trembled before he even realized he was lost, and Kakuzu smiled against his neck before leaning in to bite. His mouth sucked at the salty skin until it was left purple and burning; Hidan arched, inviting.
“Relax,” Kakuzu murmured, with false sweetness. “And release the tension.”
At another time, Hidan would have been ashamed and furious at letting himself be guided so explicitly; in that moment, however, all that mattered was the orgasm reaching him deliciously, the scream smothered at the back of his throat and his entire body contracting as jets of cum dirtied his own abdomen, with Kakuzu’s fingers still gripping, commanding every spasm.
It took no more than a second for the man to lose control as well, burying himself deep and spilling inside him with a low groan.
They stayed like that for a moment — panting, sweaty, pressed together. The grip in his hair loosened, but the weight on his back did not withdraw; Hidan turned his face, lips almost touching his, warm breath mingling in a heavy silence.
“I’m exhausted,” he murmured, his words thick. Reluctantly, he buried his face in the floor damp with sweat — his, theirs. “And my neck hurts.”
Kakuzu huffed, undoubtedly displeased with what would later become a series of complaints. He withdrew slowly, and Hidan sighed — a mix of relief and loss — as he felt the warm liquid trickle between his legs. He heard the telltale rustling: Kakuzu cleaning himself with something, perhaps the abandoned cloak itself, before lying down beside him with a sigh that expressed more weariness than anything else.
Hidan, peeking through stuck-together lashes, could unmistakably see the satisfaction stamped on those severe features, softening the edges of the angular face.
Kakuzu felt the stare. He turned his head. Their eyes met in the half-dark, lit by the flickering torch. Their breathing was still heavy, but now it synchronized, falling into a shared rhythm.
“Still bored?”
Hidan frowned and pouted, brushing his bangs from his forehead. “No,” he replied, turning to press his nose against Kakuzu’s clavicle. “But my ass hurts too. You have no delicacy, old man.”
“What an elegant choice of words,” Kakuzu murmured dryly. His hand, which rested beside his body, lifted and began to trace idle paths, unhurried, along Hidan’s back. It wasn’t a loving touch. They definitely weren’t loving.
“What’s elegant about fucking?” Hidan slid his fingers along Kakuzu’s arm, feeling the contour of the muscles. “You’re very strange, Kuzu.”
Kakuzu turned his face away, annoyed. A pinch to his chin forced him to look down, and Hidan kissed him — soft at first, until their tongues slid against each other and both moaned, savoring the warmth their bodies still shared.
“Hmmm, I’m hungry,” Hidan grumbled against his lips, hooking a leg around the older man’s waist in a gesture of possessive indolence. “Feed me for real in the stomach, Kuzu.”
Kakuzu squeezed his waist, fingers finding the points where the hip bones stood out. “You’re vulgar.”
“You’re the one who filled me with cum instead of food. And I'm dead serious, old man, I'm hungry.”
“Do you never stop complaining? It's like a bottomless pit of needs.”
Hidan rubbed their noses together — an irritating habit he’d picked up in recent months that made Kakuzu clench his jaw. A mischievous smile tugged at his swollen lips. “Hehehe, that really pisses you off, doesn’t it?”
The answer didn’t come in words, but in Kakuzu’s furrowed brow, in the fleeting frustration in his green eyes — a frustration that, a year ago, would have ended in violence. Now, it was merely a conditioned reflex of an irritated echo. The hand on his back slid up to his nape, fingers burying themselves in the silver hair.
“I should kill you."
"For what now?"
"For distracting me so much,” he mused, his voice without heat. Unlike the deliberate aggression of before, his fingers now merely brushed the damp strands from Hidan’s forehead, in a gesture that could pass for affectionate. It could.
Hidan smiled, still breathless, and splayed his hand over Kakuzu’s broad chest. He squeezed the firm flesh, feeling the heart beat in an already slow, steady rhythm. “Don’t excite me again, I’m sore,” he complained, while, in complete contradiction, rocking his hips forward, rubbing their sensitive, still-damp cocks together. A shiver ran through them both, a jolt of residual pleasure that led nowhere beyond a tired sigh.
Kakuzu pressed his free hand to Hidan’s cheek, the roughness of his fingertips contrasting with the warmth of the younger man’s face.
“You’re really insatiable.”
Hidan turned his head and kissed the palm with an exaggerated, wet smack.
“Not my fault if it’s that good.”
Their voices were low, private, belonging only to each other. There was a subtle tension between them — a sense of anticipation, a chill in the stomach that Hidan didn’t fully understand, but that he found himself seeking again and again, enchanted by those brief, rare moments they shared.
Outside, in the distant world beyond the bubble that enveloped them, a muffled bang echoed — a late firework or the remote crack of some ninja technique. Hidan didn’t move.
“It’s already midnight, right?”
There were no clocks, so Hidan turned his gaze to the window left ajar behind thick blinds, staring at the strip of cloud-stained sky he could make out. He narrowed his eyes, and a genuine smile lit up his face.
“Happy New Year, old man.”
“Hm,” Kakuzu grunted.
Instead of words, he gripped the back of Hidan’s neck and pulled him into a deep, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He toppled him against his own body, and the two of them rolled awkwardly across the floor, tangling with discarded clothes and a loose sheet of paper that had fallen from the desk. Hidan laughed, the sound muffled by Kakuzu’s mouth and the warm touch on his still-sensitive skin.
They were so absorbed in that rough moment of affection that they didn’t hear the footsteps in the corridor — not until it was far too late. They were quick steps, accompanied by the scrape of sandals and the aggressive murmur of familiar voices.
The doorknob turned with a loud, sharp click.
The creak of the door opening cut through the bubble of heat like a blade. The dim corridor light spilled into the room, casting a rectangular strip that illuminated the dust hanging in the air, the filled-out papers on the desk, and the bare, sweaty skin of two intertwined figures on the floor.
“Hey, aren’t you two going to join—”
The high, carefree voice died instantly. A collective gasp — a kind of synchronized, shocked inhale — filled the room. Someone (Deidara, for sure) made a deep sound of disgust.
A heavy, mortifying silence settled over everyone.
Kakuzu didn’t dare open his eyes. Neither did Hidan. Still, he smiled when he felt the body beneath his stiffen in pure horror. Good. It wasn’t exactly how either of them had imagined starting the new year — knowing them, however, Hidan wouldn’t have expected anything less interesting than this.
It's a good year already.