(Fic) Slave Boy 10/11

[snowtigra.livejournal.com]

Yes, it is almost done, be amazed. LEMON warning below.

Title: “Slave boy”
Series: Naruto
Author: Snow Tigra
Pairings: ZabuzaxHaku, NarutoxSasukexGaara, OrochimaruxHaku
Warnings: Yaoi. Pets. Slight age differences, assassins and certain characters being older then we've seen in the series. ~_^
Summary: Zabuza's worked for his share of unsightly characters. But when his current boss gets a boy as a 'gift' he finds himself forgetting his current job and getting distracted by this boy.

Previous chapters:
http://www.narutofic.org/viewstory.php?sid=276



An hour later and I found myself standing in my room, still as lost as before. I’d left Orochimaru’s office after that and traveled down to the basement where Haku was being kept, bringing him back up to my room. Somewhere between the time he’d been locked up and when I’d gone to fetch him, someone had decided that a collar and chain matched with his new position and the handcuffs he was already wearing. This of course meant that I had to lead him through the hall on the chain like some sort of dog, even if I made him walk in front of me so I could watch his movements. No doubt the chain was more to remind him of his new position then to keep him under control. Chains and collars aren’t effective against well trained assassins, instead it’s like handing them just another weapon to possibly use against you if you let your guard down. Which is why I didn’t.

Haku walked the entire way with his head down. He still wore the torn kimono, barely able to cover him at all now, and his hair was pulled back in a loose and messy braid that slid out of his smooth hair a little more with each silent step. He never spoke to me and never looked at me, only seeming resigned to his fate and waiting for the next opportunity. The boy who’d caught my fancy before, and who I realized had actually seduced me, seemed to be completely gone. In his place was a cold yet beautiful killer who reacted to nothing and spoke to no one. I knew his mind was still on his mission. I knew there was nothing left for him, there never had been, except for him to carry it out.

I had been a tool to him to complete his goal. And I, like a complete and total fool, had fallen for it. The thing that made it worse was that even though I knew everything now… I still wanted him.

Maybe the idle thought of a gun to my head and a bullet through my brain wasn’t that bad of an idea. Though, knowing my luck, I’d probably spend an eternity in hell, set up just like this. Mere inches from the one I wanted to touch, everything but my libido holding me back from what I really wanted. When had my life really become this fucked up?

Attaching his chain to the newly installed bolt in my wall, I tossed him one of my shirts. The moment eerily mirrored the first night as he caught it, and looked at me for the first time since I’d caught him in his assassination attempt. His eyes weren’t as cold as I’d imagined, but instead quiet and blank. He held the shirt as if confused what to do with it, just watching me.

“You’ll have to take my cuffs off for me to change.” This tone was new. He wasn’t playing the part of a scared child, or a resigned pet. Now his voice was calm and cool as ice, without a bite to it. He just stated the simple fact and watched for my reactions. He didn’t seem like he was trying to play me again, but then I had fallen for that trick before.

I let myself frown at him for a moment, my mind crossing over thoughts and considering possibilities. He was right, I did have to uncuff him for him to dress and I really didn’t want him sitting on my floor in torn clothes or naked, so once again I was trapped. Frowning more I stepped over and undid the cuffs from his wrists.

The boy did not move for a moment, just watching me back. He was unreadable in his expression as he watched me, then he turned from me and began to undress, the torn fabric sliding down his body to reveal the full tattoo. He undressed slowly, making a show of letting the torn layers slide away and leaning over to pick up the shirt I’d tossed him and slide it over his body. Gods I wanted to touch him again.

And why couldn’t I? He was mine now, to do with and train as I pleased. That very thought moved my feet forward until I was standing behind him, my hands sliding around his waist and under the long shirt to touch his skin. I was at a loss to understand why his skin and the touch of it was so intoxicating, I just knew what I wanted and what my body claimed it needed.

“I could kill you, you know.”

Once again the words were cold as he just stood there. Gone was the way his body moved and reacted to my touch. He didn’t silently draw in a breath, nor did he lean into my touch just the slightest to feel a little more. He didn’t incline his head and he just plain didn’t react. Instead he just spoke in a quiet dead voice, dispelling the act right then and there.

“Will you?” I asked, still touching him.

“Don’t touch me.” The words were hissed in hatred, sharp and cutting through the air. In one movement the boy jerked from my hold and stepped into my closet, moving to sit in the back corner, holding his knees. The eyes that looked back at me weren’t emotionless now. Instead they were narrowed and filled with hatred that couldn’t possibly be directed at me, could it? In the breath of a second he’d gone from dead to hating me.

Was this just another game?

I returned the frown to him and walked toward the closet. Then, in a true feat of self control, I closed the door and locked it tight, shutting him in and closing him off from my world until I felt the need to change my underwear. He made no protest nor any sound and as he disappeared from sight behind the wooden door I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Out of sight, out of mind.

At the very least it was better then just staring at him all night and wondering that the hell I was going to do. So now, that he was locked away again behind my flimsy door, now I could close my eyes and wonder what the hell I was going to do. My situation hasn’t changed much, but it was a small improvement.

**

I slept surprisingly well, all things considered. A couple hours were spent mulling over his and my fate and what exactly my employer wanted from me and what he hadn’t told me that he wanted from the situation. Those thoughts led to occasional thoughts of the boy breaking through the flimsy closet door to assassinate me in the middle of the night, before sleep arrived. I suppose, somewhere along the line, I decided that he would deem me not worth killing and try to escape, which would undoubtedly wake me up with the amount of movement it would take and the amount of noise. Whatever I told myself I was able to fall asleep easily enough and not be too paranoid.

True to what I’d thought, a noise did wake me in the middle of the night, coming directly from the closet. I opened my eyes, but otherwise didn’t move, listening intently to the room around me. Nothing else moved, and the muffled sounds that reached my ear soon registered, in spite of my disbelief.

Haku was crying.

What the hell am I supposed to do with a crying boy?

Confusion, and then annoyance. I turned my head and glared at the door, channeling my annoyance into anger and doing my best to filter it away. Crying? What kind of assassin spends a night in a dark room and starts crying? Who’d trained this boy? Assassins weren’t supposed to react to everyday things, much less were they supposed to let themselves be taken in by emotions like fear and sympathy, or hell even despair. So what was this boy doing crying? And why did it have to be something so god damned annoying!?

I climbed out of bed and walked right over to the closet, hearing the sounds become more muffled as he struggled to cover it up. I knew he heard me and I knew he was trying to hide it and I didn’t care. I just wanted him to shut the hell up! I hated crying, it was pointless and stupid and certainly not something I wanted to deal with from him. Assassins I could deal with, I could probably even attempt to re-train one into what my employer wanted. But crying children?

If I wanted to deal with crying children I would have found a girl in school, married her and had my own fucking kids.

I opened the door, making it swing back into the wall harshly from my own anger… and then just stood there. Haku was sitting on the floor, the same as when I’d shut and locked the door, though now he looked completely different. His hair was matted more to his face, small strands pasted against the wet red lines from tears that soaked the shirt he’d borrowed. He tried to hide it, but his hands were trembling and his normally emotionless eyes had the look of someone completely broken and lost. He didn’t look like an assassin at all now, only a homeless boy at the mercy of a man like myself, who could do whatever he wanted.

I groaned to myself and leaned down, grabbing his shoulder harshly and pulling him from the closet. He pulled against me, weakly trying to get away, but didn’t put up much of a fight as I shoved him to sit on the bed and then tossed a random towel from the bathroom into his lap.

“If you’re going to cry then do it, if not, then wipe yourself up.” I hated crying and I hated watching people do it. It wasn’t worth all the trouble people went to. After all, if a situation was really so bad to cry about then what the hell was sitting there with tears streaming down your face going to gain you but pity? Pity didn’t help in any situation.

The boy looked down at the towel, then pulled it up and wiped the tears from his face, finally seeming to relax. I’ll never understand him, because my act of not really caring seemed to trigger his ability to stop and hold it all back. I really should just give up on understanding this boy.

“So what happens now?” He asked me softly after a few moments.

“Do you work for Jiraiya or Naruto?” The words escaped my mouth without me even really thinking about it. I had wondered, but I’d expected to have more control over my words and reactions.

He looked up at me in surprise and cocked his head slightly, sitting there and seeming to wonder for a moment if he was allowed to answer that question. “He spoke with you then?”

“Yeah, the creepy kid offered me a job, of all things. But then, that was part of the plan from the start, wasn’t it?”

Haku nodded his head, once. He straightened himself, a single movement making him look sure of himself and no longer like a submissive toy. Apparently I was on a new standing with him, yet again. And once again I have absolutely no idea what to expect from him or how to react.

“Are you aware that you’re included in this offer?”

He paused, but again he nodded, acknowledging what I already knew to be true. So, that answered all my questions and now I was left with the same issue as before, only now more concrete.

If I stayed with my current employer, I would be retraining Haku and keeping my known job. However, on the down side, I would most likely learn what the other two tattooed boys could do first hand. And if this Naruto was smart, well then it was safe to say that those other two were just as good, if not better, then Haku. No matter the mission, you never send someone far away from you unless they are expendable or replaceable.

Haku was expendable.

Haku knew he was expendable.

“You were told you would die on this job.” I said softly.

“I’m told that for every job.” A small wistful smile crossed his face as he took off the shirt I’d offered him and tucked his hair back, baring the large tattoo to be seen. “The day we are given these is the day we die. There is nothing else after this point other then waiting to be laid in the earth. They found me and gave me something to do rather then just sit in the cold alley and wait for death. Now I am death.”

The speech sounded practiced, recited, memorized. This boy… was exactly what I’d always strived for in my job. He was the job, nothing else but the weapon used to kill others. To him I probably seemed to live an extravagant life with my room and routine. This boy lived by killing or was killed himself. He traded death for life, never expecting a single moment more or taking a moment for granted. He was the walking dead, and suddenly the very thought of my job just made me sick.

I stood up from my bed and passed him, not looking at him or anything else in the room as I stepped into the bathroom. The cool tiles pressed against my feet and jolted my skin into feeling, but the rest of my body couldn’t feel them. I just passed to the sink, and pressed my hands to the edges, leaning forward and pressing my forehead to the cool metal. I felt colder then anything I touched, cold and lost. What the fucking hell was I thinking in a life like this? It was the first time… the only time I’d ever questioned what I’d become, staring into my own blank eyes in the mirror.

Was I him? Would I become him? Was I already dead?

My stomiach churned, not willing to accept those words and wishing to throw them up as if I’d eaten them rather then thought of them. I slid to the floor and felt everything slide down with me. Words, thoughts, actions, none of it seemed graspable and it all slipped away from me, letting me do nothing else but sit and stare as my mind tried to comprehend.

Time passed, I don’t know how much. I just know I sat there alone, and then he was standing next to me. I watched him with quiet eyes, half my mind not even realizing what I was looking at, and yet seeing him perfectly. He knelt in front of me and watched me like a child in the pet store discovering a new animal. A quiet look, non-threatening and finally a small hand reaching forward and brushing against my skin.

He felt as cold and as dead as the tile beneath me.

“My eyes.” He whispered.

Cold dead hands crossed my cheek, sliding down my neck and back over my cheek again. For a moment he looked like he wanted to say somthing else, but no words crossed his lips. Instead he simply traced his cold, dead feeling fingers across my lips.

I must be a fool.

This wasn't the way to do my job, this wasn't the way to retrain a possible deadly child killer into an obedient sex slave who's do what ever my sick employer wanted. This wasn't the way to disarm a possible threat to someone's life. This was the way be caught off guard and get myself killed..

My thoughts quieted as his lips pressed to mine, melting into a soft sigh of release. I forgot my training, forgot my life and just melted into nothing.

Pleasure punctuated with his soft touches, light caresses and gently warming lips, urged me out of my clothing and to lay across the cold floor. He followed me down, pressing his naked body to mine. The sensations were slow, teasing and so intoxicating the room seemed to spin around me and my body trembled with feeling.

Gods, I wanted him.

I moved my hands, scratching his skin and watching him pull away from the kiss with a small whimper of pleasure. Every move and sound he made only made me want him more. I caught his lower legs and pulled him tightly to me, moving my fingers inside him without warning. The boy cried out, his body twisting against mine and waking me from my lethargic state. That seemed to be all I needed for encouragement, because a second later he was the one on the floor, my body pressed to his - pinning him tightly - as my fingers explored inside his body.

Eyes closed. Writhing. Twisting beneath me with sounds of protest and passion escaping his lips. He sounded so hot, so amazing. I caught his hands, locking them above his head and pinning him so he couldn't move as I pushed deeply inside him. I watched him jerk and cry out with each thrust, hitting a spot that just seemed to give him a jolt with each new movement.

"I could kill you right now." My voice was low from the sex and my body's own reaction. I nearly hissed the words and stopped moving, watching his eyes snap open as he stared at me, his eyes so hazy and beautiful. A tremble crossed his body to the deepest depths and I could feel his body clamp down on my fingers, scared.

Then he did the strangest thing. He licked his lips and leaned up to me, whispering huskily. "Then kill me."

Oh gods. I shuddered and moved my fingers, watching him jerk once, giving a soft cry. "You want to die?" I hissed.

"Yes. Yes. Kill me."

I pulled my fingers out, pinned him harshly to the floor and shoved myself inside him with no warning. He wanted it hard and he wanted to feel like he was dying, then that's what I'd give him and myself. I'd make him squirm and scream and do what I fucking wanted to do to him because I now knew he wanted it.

Heat filled the room as I thrust inside him, forcing him against the floor. He twisted under me, barely able to move from how tightly I was pinning him and small, strangled whimpers escaped his throat. This boy, he was turned on by the thought of me killing him, of me just tearing him apart with my strength. He was turned on by the thought of his own death and somewhere along the line that turned me on as well.

I was such a sick person... and I didn't even care.

He pulled against me, his body shaking and I could feel him spasm with each hard thrust. The bathroom echoed around us. And then there it was. He screamed. The boy, Haku, screamed as he reached his limit, his body shaking beneath mine so harshly he nearly hit his head on the side of the bathtub. His scream echoed , sounded both impassioned and deadly at the same time. It made my body clench and explode, my vision blurring together with black and white dots from everything.

Time passed in a dull, mind numbing blur and then he was staring up at me. His lips parted as if to ask for even more from me. More that I was ready and willing to give him. I wanted to take him again, if only to hear that intoxicating scream for a second more.

Then something cracked across the back of my head and my world dropped out from under me. I melted and fell into darkness as I felt my body hit the cold, hard floor.