Naruto & Loveless Fanfiction // On The Edge
Title: On the Edge
Series: Monoshizukanohi: Fandom Crossover & Original AU
Author: Darkprism
Genre: Gothic Kinky Romance
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Nagato/Pein from Naruto and Soubi Agatsuma from Loveless
Word Count: 3650
Warnings/Notes: Language, denial, toys, kink, voyeurism, oral, anal, other.
Spoilers: None whatsoever for the manga/anime.
Summary: Nagato seeks out his Gentle Wayfarer to continue their game of caged denial.
A/N:
Howdy gang! Your Demented Tour Guide, here, with some notes...
1. Please remember that on a normal day, Nagato does not adhere to the safe, sane ANYTHING... though he usually does manage consensual.
2. This story has fanart by the incredible Kyuubi1010.
3. I'm writing these two in a series of short stories, and each of them have appeared in my AU in various capacities and cameos. For references, information, AU notes, Points of Interest, various links and to read ALL of the Nagato/Soubi and the Nagato/Itachi and the Itachi/Gaara and Itachi/Soubi saga... (g'lord...), do click RIGHT HERE.
4. I do not own the Naruto or Loveless guys. I DO own the world, the places, and the originals.
5. Nagato is Russian. Vaughn is not, though he speaks Russian. Soubi is a student at the Mono Uni.
6. Dear Vaughn, You are a brave, brave soul. All the love, --Dee
7. More stories in the works.
8. DID I MENTION THIS ONE IS KINKY? OH GOOD. I find denial very, very appealing, darlings. I hope you enjoy.
Much love & sweet tears,
♥Dee
When Nagato walked into the living room where Soubi sat on the sofa working on a paper for his film studies class, Soubi started to cry. There was no warning, no split second where Soubi's eyes burned, and he got the chance to control the tears, no nothing. One heartbeat, Soubi was neck-deep in horror movie symbolism of the 1950s, and the next he was sobbing like a little boy with a dead puppy in his lap.
Nagato crossed the room in his peculiar gait that Soubi had come to view as an arthritic waltz; a solitary tango of pain. Because Nagato didn't walk: he danced. Nagato didn't speak: he orated. And Nagato didn't merely give Soubi a hug: he sat, pulled Soubi into his arms, petted Soubi's hair, and began to croon in Russian. Soubi knew some of the words, now, and he heard "beloved" and "sacred" and "tears." Soubi cried all the harder, and damn the earth itself, but Nagato rocked Soubi like father to son. Like a priest to the damned and a tormenter to the perpetual captive.
"There, there, my little one," Nagato soothed.
"I'm... I'm sorry." Soubi sniffled and wiped his nose on his Monoshizukanohi University hoodie's sleeve.
Nagato clucked his tongue in a show of mild frustration. "Do not apologize to me for succumbing to the effects of the suffering you give unto me, my Gentle Wanderer. I know what I ask, and never is it a simple thing."
Soubi went limp in Nagato's arms, hating and loving the man for being so understanding. In that instant, Soubi hated that Nagato was unerring in his read of emotions, of people, of Soubi's very soul. Soubi hated that Nagato's affection was as real as his cruelty. Soubi hated the way Nagato's hair always smelled like myrrh, and the aftershave lotion he used smelled like an apricot tree in the full bloom of spring. There used to be such a tree outside Soubi's window in the first house Soubi remembered living in as a boy. The smell was the closest memory Soubi had to home.
And Soubi hated Nagato's gentle hands; the particular tint to his auburn hair that shone like burnished copper in the sunlight; the constant movement of his eyes that forced him to buy books in oversized print; the love Nagato had of warmth and fire and poetry. For if the man beneath the constant, vigilant agony inflicted upon Soubi's person wasn't so damned real and breathtaking and adoring, then Soubi might have had a chance in hell of saying no once in a while. But as it was, Soubi was far, far too in love with His Grace and the way Nagato's expression softened each and every time Soubi said yes, be it with body or voice or the dip of Soubi's chin.
Nagato hummed when Soubi's sobbing fit subsided. "Shall we do it here, little one?" Nagato asked, and Soubi nodded, helpless before the will of the man around him and before the tidal wave of Soubi's own dark desire to be possessed.
"Very well, then." Nagato kissed Soubi's temple, and the crack of command wove around Nagato's next single word: "Strip."
Soubi rose and yanked off his shirts, his jeans, his socks, and his boxers. Beneath the clothing, he wore a horrifically wicked plastic and metal cockcage and a single black leather band around his left thigh. The first was functional, the second pure affectation. Nagato just liked it on Soubi, for whatever reason, and Soubi left it alone, knowing Nagato did not mean for Soubi to remove the items Nagato had added to his wardrobe. Soubi faced Nagato, spread his feet, crossed his arms behind his back, and tipped his head up and his pelvis forward. Nimble, warm fingers began undoing the cage, and immediately Soubi was trying desperately not to cry out. He couldn't help the shaking, and though he hated himself for it, he also couldn't help the fresh spill of tears. Soubi would never cope with weeping with even one tenth of an ounce of the grace Nagato always did.
When the device was undone, Soubi's cock began to fill. "So pretty," Nagato praised, and Soubi's heart did a little sink-dive, taking his connection to reality along with it for the ride. The room began to spin, his vision began to narrow, and Soubi heard himself panting for breath well before he registered that he couldn't catch it.
"Tell me of what you endure, little one." Nagato steadied Soubi on his feet with hands on Soubi's hips.
Soubi licked his lips, channeling the willpower to answer His Grace and Master. "For fourteen days shall I suffer pleasure at His Grace's demand. Eight times in every twenty-four hours will I be bid to reach the edge of climax by whatever means His Grace so wishes. I will plead His Grace to cease, 'ere I fall into bliss. Should I not call for a stop or should I reach an ending before my penance is complete, it will begin anew." Nagato closed his hand around Soubi's rigid cock, and Soubi gasped.
"What else, my Gentle One?" Nagato asked in a low murmur.
"In... in between my edgings, I shall be caged, forbidden to..." Soubi moaned at the deft stroke to his shaft, so slow, so evil, so wonderful. "To touch myself, even to make water, for that I will do in a crouch. A-and... oh God..." Nagato sped up by a tiny increment, and Soubi strove toward the sensation, unable to help himself.
"Continue." Nagato's word was that of Soubi's god, and Soubi could not exist without fulfilling its divine decree.
"And His Grace may choose to take pleasure in my body however and whenever he wishes, and the same rules of my penance apply."
"Very prettily spoken." Warm air blew on the head of Soubi's dick, and Soubi hitched a fractured breath. "You have earned my tongue and mouth, little one," Nagato droned. "Do not disappoint me in my moment of generosity."
"N-never, Your Graa-ooooh Christ." Soubi whined and watched in reckless abandon as Nagato's lips sealed a ring just beneath the crown of Soubi's cock. Fierce suction surrounded him, teasing flicks worried his slit, and slow pumps circled his base and slid to meet Nagato's slick-suck plunge halfway.
"Oh God... Oh God... Oooh-oh GOD...!" Soubi's nails drew blood on his arms. His toes curled so tightly into the carpet that his foot tried to cramp, and every muscle in his body went taut like piano strings. He wanted more, just a little more; just one more goddamned bob of Nagato's head. He was dying for a few more seconds of those eyes up and on him, like Nagato was fucking Soubi into unconsciousness with a single glance. He would have killed his own brother for a few more strokes and the endurance to survive a handful of extra seconds so he could bask in the closest thing to relief he'd gotten in thirteen long days. Soubi cried out like a mortally wounded animal. He rocked into the pleasure, he found the limit of his control, and yes, he longed for the game to end. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to get off. In that nanosecond, Soubi would have done anything -- anything -- for an orgasm. Destroyed cities, unmade worlds, slit the throats of children. The need violently reshaped his entire existence.
But he would sooner do such atrocities to himself than disappoint His Grace. And so Soubi hissed, ground his teeth, and snarled a weak, wavering, "Mercy."
The end of the blow job was so sudden that Soubi staggered. Nagato caught him, but the touch was rough and perfunctory. Soubi was glad for it, because a tender hold might have been enough to send him over the brink. His cock dribbled an endless stream of pre-come that oozed in a long, sticky line to the couch cushion. It pooled between Nagato's knees, but Nagato paid it no mind. All His Grace's attention was on Soubi's face, Nagato's expression a mask of calculating observation. Soubi whimpered, and his dick pulsed. He shivered and prayed and at last the danger of getting off was behind him. He was weak with relieved regret, and Nagato stood and hugged Soubi when he sagged.
"My Wanderer," Nagato whispered. With such possession behind the title, it sounded like an insult, but Nagato's clutch was anything but disapproving. Nagato trembled, his embrace stunningly strong, and he blew a harsh sigh. "Which would you have, now?"
Soubi cringed in Nagato's hold, and he heard himself cursing and saying no over and over again. Nagato weathered the storm with unwavering patience, snapping when Soubi didn't answer after too many seconds too long: "Decide or I will choose for you, and you will not find my measures kind."
"Ice," Soubi gasped. "I'd have the ice."
"Very well." Nagato kissed Soubi's hair, and Soubi tried not to black out in loving hatred. "Vaughn."
Nagato's house servant, nurse, play toy, and all-around jack of anything Nagato desired stepped into the room from where he'd been waiting just outside. Vaughn Alexander was something south of fifty, shorter than Soubi, broad and stocky with a wide chest covered in dark hair. His head was shaved, he kept a short, black beard, and his eyes were a brown so murky and beady they reminded Soubi of a ferret. He usually wore black scrubs, and today was no different. Soubi didn't know much about Vaughn at all, hadn't been able to gleam many details in the two and a half weeks he'd been with His Grace, but he did know Vaughn had been in the medical field for years. First as a paramedic, then a nurse, and now a nurse practitioner. He'd been with Nagato for over a decade, and their relationship was intricate to say the least. Soubi didn’t know all the rules, but he knew Nagato called Vaughn "Trusted Fool" like it was the highest compliment ever paid, and Vaughn never spoke unless Nagato commanded it. When Vaughn did talk, it was usually in Russian, though his English was clear and crisp.
Vaughn carried a silver tray laden with a pitcher and an oddly-shaped, high-walled bowl full of water. Under his armpit he had Nagato's favorite crop, and the sight of it had Soubi's balls trying to crawl back into his body.
"Restraint, little one." It was advice, warning, and inquiry all at the same time, and Soubi nodded, biting back a groan.
"Very well." Nagato stayed where he was while Vaughn set the tray on the coffee table next to Soubi's laptop and textbooks. Vaughn grabbed a handful of ice from the other pitcher and dropped the cubes into the water. Even though Soubi knew what was coming and how god-awful it would be, his cock spasmed again, and he gasped against Nagato's shoulder.
"There, there." Nagato squeezed Soubi and stood. Vaughn sat in Nagato's place and nudge-shoved Soubi onto his knees on the floor in front of Vaughn, with Soubi's back to the seated man. Soubi was lightheaded and off-balance, and Vaughn guided him into position with gentle but inexorable force. Thick, corded arms rested around Soubi's shoulders and neck in a loose headlock. Vaughn didn't apply pressure, but if Soubi struggled in earnest, Vaughn would. He also pressed himself along Soubi's back and put his cheek to Soubi's temple. Soubi had no idea if it was meant to be comforting or kind, but Soubi took it that way. Vaughn's eyes often held pity or were alight with camaraderie, and Soubi chose to believe Vaughn sympathized rather than coldly obeyed Nagato without feeling anything at all toward Soubi.
Nagato used Vaughn's knee to sink to the floor, and he winced. Soubi felt a pang of worry that got obliterated when Nagato picked up the bowl with the floating slivers of ice, lowered it, and dipped Soubi's cock and balls into the freezing water. The pain was worse than ten thousand single-tail lashes, and Soubi instantly wondered why in the fuck he'd chosen this method instead of the crop to his nuts. It was like he could never remember which hurt worse, which was just stupid as it'd happened time and time again over the last two weeks. He thrashed and yelled, Vaughn held him, and the only bright side was that it took no time at all for Soubi to soften. It did nothing for the urge to get off, but it did what Nagato wished for his anatomy.
"It's over, my sweet Soubi," Nagato said, drying Soubi off and picking up the cage. Nagato could get the thing on Soubi's cock in less than thirty seconds, and the rate of restriction made Soubi's head fill with cotton. He gulped, worried he might be ill from being so faint, and God, it was getting so dark so early these days, and then a chilly touch covered the back of his neck. Soubi realized he had a view of the rug, now, and Vaughn was holding him bent forward. The cloth on his neck wasn't damp, merely cold, and Vaughn put another one to Soubi's forehead.
"Th-thank you," Soubi said, tongue not wanting to work. Vaughn's reply was a brief firming of both hands. Soubi heard the rustle of fabric, registered the air change indicating movement, and he went limp in Vaughn's support. Nagato said something in Russian that Soubi had no hope of translating, but he tensed when Vaughn answered and shifted onto the floor. Soubi's heart started to pound in his breast. In his experience, Vaughn and Nagato exchanging actual words usually led to something stunningly evil, and Soubi flinched when Vaughn bent closer from where he knelt next to Soubi.
"Nauseated?" Vaughn asked, his voice crisp and clean of all accent.
"N-no?"
"Dizzy?"
"Not right now."
"Sit up?"
"I... okay." Soubi went back on his heels with Vaughn's guidance.
Vaughn observed Soubi with assessing eyes, and he removed the cloths. "Pain?"
"My nuts hurt," Soubi said without thinking twice.
A small smile played at the edge of Vaughn's lips, but he gestured to Soubi. "Kneel up."
Soubi obeyed, and Vaughn bent to his groin. The inspection of his lower abdomen, balls, cock, the cage and its fit would have been awkward were it not so clinical and startling. It wasn't the first time Vaughn had stepped into Nagato and Soubi's play to attend to medical or first aid needs, but it was the first time Vaughn had spoken to Soubi. Ever.
"The skin is slightly irritated. I'll get you an ointment. Otherwise, only dilation and the cold," Vaughn pronounced. "Any swelling or unusual pain, find me."
"Sure," Soubi agreed, and why he found the exam and circumstances arousing was beyond him. Though, at this point, Soubi would probably find a knothole in a tree trunk worthy of a fantasy.
"Silence," Nagato said from behind Soubi. The word was matter-of-fact, and Vaughn bowed his head. "Dismissed."
Vaughn rose and left the room, and Soubi blinked after him until hands stroked along his bare arms. "Come to me, little one," Nagato said in Soubi's ear.
Turning, Soubi found His Grace nude, hard, and in the act of reclining on the sofa cushions. Next to one lean, pale thigh was a tube of lube and a condom packet. Soubi's lower half clenched, and he nearly fell climbing into Nagato's lap.
"Kiss me." Nagato's fingers wound in Soubi's hair, and their mouths met with a mutual moan. Nagato's touch seemed to be everywhere, and his tongue tasted like jasmine tea. He adjusted himself so that his cock rested against Soubi's ass. "Brace yourself, little one," Nagato said against Soubi's cheek. Soubi slammed both hands onto the back of the couch and clung for dear life. Nagato's chuckle sent shivers along Soubi's spine, and Nagato's motions of rip, cover, and slick shoved sound out of Soubi's lungs. He curled until his head rested on Nagato's shoulder, and he faced Nagato's neck. His body and mind were confused about what they wanted, but he rolled against Nagato's belly, though it gained him nothing, and he grunted like a rutting beast when a wet tip nudged his asshole.
Nagato massaged Soubi's nape, and his fingers brushed Soubi's backside as he stroked himself. Nagato's skin was hot, his breath quickening, and his hum rumbled his chest. "Sit on my cock."
Soubi lowered himself, and the stretch-fill turned reality into muddied water. He buried his continual cries against Nagato's throat, he forced himself to take Nagato's width and inches, and the internal pressure made him jerk, still, flutter. "Oooh... f-fuck... you..." Soubi whispered, strangling on need.
A rich laugh dug its way into Soubi's brain and planted seeds of terror. His scalp ignited with pain from a tight twist of his hair around a fist. A swat struck his ass cheek, the string awful for the way it woke up blossoms of want, and Nagato rocked upward while driving Soubi downward. Soubi's bellow choked him, and the world was going gray for the second time in less than half an hour.
"Ride me, little one," Nagato said against a pounding pulse point. Nagato fucked into Soubi again, pushing another shout out of Soubi. "There is no passivity in obedience, here." Another deep plunge, and Soubi was seeing stars. "You will take my cock." Again, and Christ, but Soubi could barely make out Nagato's words around the depth Nagato found within Soubi's insides. "You will fulfill my need." Plunge, rock, hold. "You will sing for me in words of gratitude and cries of thanks." Nagato yanked them face to face, bit Soubi's lower lip until it split, opened, and ripened Nagato's mouth with blood.
"Or I will see to it that the only relief you find from me and in the constructs of your servitude is in unconscious oblivion." Nagato released Soubi violently and slapped both sides of his stuffed ass. "Now work to please me, my Gentle Sweet, and I swear on the souls of the damned that you will face me in hell should you come."
"Uhn... ahn... God... oh..." Soubi chased oxygen in a never-ending marathon sprint, couldn't stop shaking, and he didn't know if the high whine in his ears was ringing or his own voice. He scrabbled a grip on the furniture and began to raise and lower himself along Nagato's cock. At first he was too slow, too sloppy, and Nagato spanked him into a frenzied pace. Then he was too shallow, and Nagato shoved Soubi downward with every swing. Soubi was sure he was screaming because his throat hurt. Teeth marred his neck, nails clawed his flanks, and Nagato in the throes of pleasure was a stunning display of demonic, unforgiving, unending, greed.
A guttural hiss in Soubi's ear: "Give unto me gratitude."
"Ohchristthankyou," Soubi slurred in a high wail, rocking, bouncing, sliding, sweating. "Thank you... fuck me... thank you... mercy, God, m-mercy...mercy..."
A Russian snarl: "Beg for it to end."
"Oooh, fuck, Your Grace, please..." Soubi's hair was in his mouth, and he had to clear it else he gag. He slapped at his face, head flying backward and spine curved in a mean arch. "G-give it to me... p-please... can't... oh God... Naga... oh-fuck-hell, aah-hahn PLEASE!"
It stopped with one more thrusting slam, and Nagato forced Soubi motionless. Soubi slouched, and he could feel the faint swell and throb of Nagato spilling inside latex inside Soubi. Nagato didn't make a sound, didn't so much as breathe, and when His Grace was spent, Nagato blew a sigh that drained him languid. Soubi rested, and hellhounds chewing his balls couldn't have given Soubi the will to move.
Soubi roused when two sets of hands lifted and lay him on his side. The drone of Russian mumble was nice, and the cool numbing sensation that overtook his asshole, entrance, and insides was even nicer. Something soft covered him, someone held him, and it wasn't until Soubi woke up the second time that he realized he was cradled in Nagato's arms and lap. Nagato was singing softly to him, a Russian lullaby, and Soubi smiled against the soft hair on Nagato's chest.
"Little one, have you returned to me?"
"Mmhm..." Soubi stretched and felt no pain. "Oooh wow... I feel fucking fantastic...?"
"A mild injection, little one," Nagato spoke around a chuckle. "You have endured much for me of late."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
"There is tea and food when you wish it." Nagato stroked his hair.
"Sounds lovely." Soubi tensed and groaned. "The paper..."
"Due in two days time, so your schedule informs me."
"You... you checked?"
"Of course." Nagato sounded amused and affronted. "What you do is tracked via my phone. Vaughn assists with such things, as my eyes disallow it."
"Oh." Soubi's heart swelled and his mind eased.
"Though you should finish your assignments today, if possible," Nagato murmured.
"Your Grace?"
"As tomorrow is the final day of penance, and I plan to grant you pardon in any fashion you dictate unto me."
It took a second for Soubi to understand that turn of Nagato prose. "You mean I get whatever I want?"
"Yes, my Gentle Soubi. Whatsoever you shall desire will be yours for it be mine in the giving."
Soubi struggled to sit up and Nagato met his gaze, calm and faintly smiling. "So... so if I wanted... a-any...?"
Nagato's smile widened. "Anything, little one."
"To... I mean..." Soubi's mind stumbled over the possibilities.
"Vengeance to sweetness, Soubi, it is yours." Nagato cupped Soubi's cheek. "You are beautiful in the wanting, but for now, your desires submit to mine, and I wish to hold you and feed you tea and bread." Nagato held out his arms.
Soubi went to Nagato in a dazed haze of blessed fortune. "Yes, Your Grace. Thank you."
~*~
Series: Monoshizukanohi: Fandom Crossover & Original AU
Author: Darkprism
Genre: Gothic Kinky Romance
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Nagato/Pein from Naruto and Soubi Agatsuma from Loveless
Word Count: 3650
Warnings/Notes: Language, denial, toys, kink, voyeurism, oral, anal, other.
Spoilers: None whatsoever for the manga/anime.
Summary: Nagato seeks out his Gentle Wayfarer to continue their game of caged denial.
A/N:
Howdy gang! Your Demented Tour Guide, here, with some notes...
1. Please remember that on a normal day, Nagato does not adhere to the safe, sane ANYTHING... though he usually does manage consensual.
2. This story has fanart by the incredible Kyuubi1010.
3. I'm writing these two in a series of short stories, and each of them have appeared in my AU in various capacities and cameos. For references, information, AU notes, Points of Interest, various links and to read ALL of the Nagato/Soubi and the Nagato/Itachi and the Itachi/Gaara and Itachi/Soubi saga... (g'lord...), do click RIGHT HERE.
4. I do not own the Naruto or Loveless guys. I DO own the world, the places, and the originals.
5. Nagato is Russian. Vaughn is not, though he speaks Russian. Soubi is a student at the Mono Uni.
6. Dear Vaughn, You are a brave, brave soul. All the love, --Dee
7. More stories in the works.
8. DID I MENTION THIS ONE IS KINKY? OH GOOD. I find denial very, very appealing, darlings. I hope you enjoy.
Much love & sweet tears,
♥Dee
When Nagato walked into the living room where Soubi sat on the sofa working on a paper for his film studies class, Soubi started to cry. There was no warning, no split second where Soubi's eyes burned, and he got the chance to control the tears, no nothing. One heartbeat, Soubi was neck-deep in horror movie symbolism of the 1950s, and the next he was sobbing like a little boy with a dead puppy in his lap.
Nagato crossed the room in his peculiar gait that Soubi had come to view as an arthritic waltz; a solitary tango of pain. Because Nagato didn't walk: he danced. Nagato didn't speak: he orated. And Nagato didn't merely give Soubi a hug: he sat, pulled Soubi into his arms, petted Soubi's hair, and began to croon in Russian. Soubi knew some of the words, now, and he heard "beloved" and "sacred" and "tears." Soubi cried all the harder, and damn the earth itself, but Nagato rocked Soubi like father to son. Like a priest to the damned and a tormenter to the perpetual captive.
"There, there, my little one," Nagato soothed.
"I'm... I'm sorry." Soubi sniffled and wiped his nose on his Monoshizukanohi University hoodie's sleeve.
Nagato clucked his tongue in a show of mild frustration. "Do not apologize to me for succumbing to the effects of the suffering you give unto me, my Gentle Wanderer. I know what I ask, and never is it a simple thing."
Soubi went limp in Nagato's arms, hating and loving the man for being so understanding. In that instant, Soubi hated that Nagato was unerring in his read of emotions, of people, of Soubi's very soul. Soubi hated that Nagato's affection was as real as his cruelty. Soubi hated the way Nagato's hair always smelled like myrrh, and the aftershave lotion he used smelled like an apricot tree in the full bloom of spring. There used to be such a tree outside Soubi's window in the first house Soubi remembered living in as a boy. The smell was the closest memory Soubi had to home.
And Soubi hated Nagato's gentle hands; the particular tint to his auburn hair that shone like burnished copper in the sunlight; the constant movement of his eyes that forced him to buy books in oversized print; the love Nagato had of warmth and fire and poetry. For if the man beneath the constant, vigilant agony inflicted upon Soubi's person wasn't so damned real and breathtaking and adoring, then Soubi might have had a chance in hell of saying no once in a while. But as it was, Soubi was far, far too in love with His Grace and the way Nagato's expression softened each and every time Soubi said yes, be it with body or voice or the dip of Soubi's chin.
Nagato hummed when Soubi's sobbing fit subsided. "Shall we do it here, little one?" Nagato asked, and Soubi nodded, helpless before the will of the man around him and before the tidal wave of Soubi's own dark desire to be possessed.
"Very well, then." Nagato kissed Soubi's temple, and the crack of command wove around Nagato's next single word: "Strip."
Soubi rose and yanked off his shirts, his jeans, his socks, and his boxers. Beneath the clothing, he wore a horrifically wicked plastic and metal cockcage and a single black leather band around his left thigh. The first was functional, the second pure affectation. Nagato just liked it on Soubi, for whatever reason, and Soubi left it alone, knowing Nagato did not mean for Soubi to remove the items Nagato had added to his wardrobe. Soubi faced Nagato, spread his feet, crossed his arms behind his back, and tipped his head up and his pelvis forward. Nimble, warm fingers began undoing the cage, and immediately Soubi was trying desperately not to cry out. He couldn't help the shaking, and though he hated himself for it, he also couldn't help the fresh spill of tears. Soubi would never cope with weeping with even one tenth of an ounce of the grace Nagato always did.
When the device was undone, Soubi's cock began to fill. "So pretty," Nagato praised, and Soubi's heart did a little sink-dive, taking his connection to reality along with it for the ride. The room began to spin, his vision began to narrow, and Soubi heard himself panting for breath well before he registered that he couldn't catch it.
"Tell me of what you endure, little one." Nagato steadied Soubi on his feet with hands on Soubi's hips.
Soubi licked his lips, channeling the willpower to answer His Grace and Master. "For fourteen days shall I suffer pleasure at His Grace's demand. Eight times in every twenty-four hours will I be bid to reach the edge of climax by whatever means His Grace so wishes. I will plead His Grace to cease, 'ere I fall into bliss. Should I not call for a stop or should I reach an ending before my penance is complete, it will begin anew." Nagato closed his hand around Soubi's rigid cock, and Soubi gasped.
"What else, my Gentle One?" Nagato asked in a low murmur.
"In... in between my edgings, I shall be caged, forbidden to..." Soubi moaned at the deft stroke to his shaft, so slow, so evil, so wonderful. "To touch myself, even to make water, for that I will do in a crouch. A-and... oh God..." Nagato sped up by a tiny increment, and Soubi strove toward the sensation, unable to help himself.
"Continue." Nagato's word was that of Soubi's god, and Soubi could not exist without fulfilling its divine decree.
"And His Grace may choose to take pleasure in my body however and whenever he wishes, and the same rules of my penance apply."
"Very prettily spoken." Warm air blew on the head of Soubi's dick, and Soubi hitched a fractured breath. "You have earned my tongue and mouth, little one," Nagato droned. "Do not disappoint me in my moment of generosity."
"N-never, Your Graa-ooooh Christ." Soubi whined and watched in reckless abandon as Nagato's lips sealed a ring just beneath the crown of Soubi's cock. Fierce suction surrounded him, teasing flicks worried his slit, and slow pumps circled his base and slid to meet Nagato's slick-suck plunge halfway.
"Oh God... Oh God... Oooh-oh GOD...!" Soubi's nails drew blood on his arms. His toes curled so tightly into the carpet that his foot tried to cramp, and every muscle in his body went taut like piano strings. He wanted more, just a little more; just one more goddamned bob of Nagato's head. He was dying for a few more seconds of those eyes up and on him, like Nagato was fucking Soubi into unconsciousness with a single glance. He would have killed his own brother for a few more strokes and the endurance to survive a handful of extra seconds so he could bask in the closest thing to relief he'd gotten in thirteen long days. Soubi cried out like a mortally wounded animal. He rocked into the pleasure, he found the limit of his control, and yes, he longed for the game to end. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to get off. In that nanosecond, Soubi would have done anything -- anything -- for an orgasm. Destroyed cities, unmade worlds, slit the throats of children. The need violently reshaped his entire existence.
But he would sooner do such atrocities to himself than disappoint His Grace. And so Soubi hissed, ground his teeth, and snarled a weak, wavering, "Mercy."
The end of the blow job was so sudden that Soubi staggered. Nagato caught him, but the touch was rough and perfunctory. Soubi was glad for it, because a tender hold might have been enough to send him over the brink. His cock dribbled an endless stream of pre-come that oozed in a long, sticky line to the couch cushion. It pooled between Nagato's knees, but Nagato paid it no mind. All His Grace's attention was on Soubi's face, Nagato's expression a mask of calculating observation. Soubi whimpered, and his dick pulsed. He shivered and prayed and at last the danger of getting off was behind him. He was weak with relieved regret, and Nagato stood and hugged Soubi when he sagged.
"My Wanderer," Nagato whispered. With such possession behind the title, it sounded like an insult, but Nagato's clutch was anything but disapproving. Nagato trembled, his embrace stunningly strong, and he blew a harsh sigh. "Which would you have, now?"
Soubi cringed in Nagato's hold, and he heard himself cursing and saying no over and over again. Nagato weathered the storm with unwavering patience, snapping when Soubi didn't answer after too many seconds too long: "Decide or I will choose for you, and you will not find my measures kind."
"Ice," Soubi gasped. "I'd have the ice."
"Very well." Nagato kissed Soubi's hair, and Soubi tried not to black out in loving hatred. "Vaughn."
Nagato's house servant, nurse, play toy, and all-around jack of anything Nagato desired stepped into the room from where he'd been waiting just outside. Vaughn Alexander was something south of fifty, shorter than Soubi, broad and stocky with a wide chest covered in dark hair. His head was shaved, he kept a short, black beard, and his eyes were a brown so murky and beady they reminded Soubi of a ferret. He usually wore black scrubs, and today was no different. Soubi didn't know much about Vaughn at all, hadn't been able to gleam many details in the two and a half weeks he'd been with His Grace, but he did know Vaughn had been in the medical field for years. First as a paramedic, then a nurse, and now a nurse practitioner. He'd been with Nagato for over a decade, and their relationship was intricate to say the least. Soubi didn’t know all the rules, but he knew Nagato called Vaughn "Trusted Fool" like it was the highest compliment ever paid, and Vaughn never spoke unless Nagato commanded it. When Vaughn did talk, it was usually in Russian, though his English was clear and crisp.
Vaughn carried a silver tray laden with a pitcher and an oddly-shaped, high-walled bowl full of water. Under his armpit he had Nagato's favorite crop, and the sight of it had Soubi's balls trying to crawl back into his body.
"Restraint, little one." It was advice, warning, and inquiry all at the same time, and Soubi nodded, biting back a groan.
"Very well." Nagato stayed where he was while Vaughn set the tray on the coffee table next to Soubi's laptop and textbooks. Vaughn grabbed a handful of ice from the other pitcher and dropped the cubes into the water. Even though Soubi knew what was coming and how god-awful it would be, his cock spasmed again, and he gasped against Nagato's shoulder.
"There, there." Nagato squeezed Soubi and stood. Vaughn sat in Nagato's place and nudge-shoved Soubi onto his knees on the floor in front of Vaughn, with Soubi's back to the seated man. Soubi was lightheaded and off-balance, and Vaughn guided him into position with gentle but inexorable force. Thick, corded arms rested around Soubi's shoulders and neck in a loose headlock. Vaughn didn't apply pressure, but if Soubi struggled in earnest, Vaughn would. He also pressed himself along Soubi's back and put his cheek to Soubi's temple. Soubi had no idea if it was meant to be comforting or kind, but Soubi took it that way. Vaughn's eyes often held pity or were alight with camaraderie, and Soubi chose to believe Vaughn sympathized rather than coldly obeyed Nagato without feeling anything at all toward Soubi.
Nagato used Vaughn's knee to sink to the floor, and he winced. Soubi felt a pang of worry that got obliterated when Nagato picked up the bowl with the floating slivers of ice, lowered it, and dipped Soubi's cock and balls into the freezing water. The pain was worse than ten thousand single-tail lashes, and Soubi instantly wondered why in the fuck he'd chosen this method instead of the crop to his nuts. It was like he could never remember which hurt worse, which was just stupid as it'd happened time and time again over the last two weeks. He thrashed and yelled, Vaughn held him, and the only bright side was that it took no time at all for Soubi to soften. It did nothing for the urge to get off, but it did what Nagato wished for his anatomy.
"It's over, my sweet Soubi," Nagato said, drying Soubi off and picking up the cage. Nagato could get the thing on Soubi's cock in less than thirty seconds, and the rate of restriction made Soubi's head fill with cotton. He gulped, worried he might be ill from being so faint, and God, it was getting so dark so early these days, and then a chilly touch covered the back of his neck. Soubi realized he had a view of the rug, now, and Vaughn was holding him bent forward. The cloth on his neck wasn't damp, merely cold, and Vaughn put another one to Soubi's forehead.
"Th-thank you," Soubi said, tongue not wanting to work. Vaughn's reply was a brief firming of both hands. Soubi heard the rustle of fabric, registered the air change indicating movement, and he went limp in Vaughn's support. Nagato said something in Russian that Soubi had no hope of translating, but he tensed when Vaughn answered and shifted onto the floor. Soubi's heart started to pound in his breast. In his experience, Vaughn and Nagato exchanging actual words usually led to something stunningly evil, and Soubi flinched when Vaughn bent closer from where he knelt next to Soubi.
"Nauseated?" Vaughn asked, his voice crisp and clean of all accent.
"N-no?"
"Dizzy?"
"Not right now."
"Sit up?"
"I... okay." Soubi went back on his heels with Vaughn's guidance.
Vaughn observed Soubi with assessing eyes, and he removed the cloths. "Pain?"
"My nuts hurt," Soubi said without thinking twice.
A small smile played at the edge of Vaughn's lips, but he gestured to Soubi. "Kneel up."
Soubi obeyed, and Vaughn bent to his groin. The inspection of his lower abdomen, balls, cock, the cage and its fit would have been awkward were it not so clinical and startling. It wasn't the first time Vaughn had stepped into Nagato and Soubi's play to attend to medical or first aid needs, but it was the first time Vaughn had spoken to Soubi. Ever.
"The skin is slightly irritated. I'll get you an ointment. Otherwise, only dilation and the cold," Vaughn pronounced. "Any swelling or unusual pain, find me."
"Sure," Soubi agreed, and why he found the exam and circumstances arousing was beyond him. Though, at this point, Soubi would probably find a knothole in a tree trunk worthy of a fantasy.
"Silence," Nagato said from behind Soubi. The word was matter-of-fact, and Vaughn bowed his head. "Dismissed."
Vaughn rose and left the room, and Soubi blinked after him until hands stroked along his bare arms. "Come to me, little one," Nagato said in Soubi's ear.
Turning, Soubi found His Grace nude, hard, and in the act of reclining on the sofa cushions. Next to one lean, pale thigh was a tube of lube and a condom packet. Soubi's lower half clenched, and he nearly fell climbing into Nagato's lap.
"Kiss me." Nagato's fingers wound in Soubi's hair, and their mouths met with a mutual moan. Nagato's touch seemed to be everywhere, and his tongue tasted like jasmine tea. He adjusted himself so that his cock rested against Soubi's ass. "Brace yourself, little one," Nagato said against Soubi's cheek. Soubi slammed both hands onto the back of the couch and clung for dear life. Nagato's chuckle sent shivers along Soubi's spine, and Nagato's motions of rip, cover, and slick shoved sound out of Soubi's lungs. He curled until his head rested on Nagato's shoulder, and he faced Nagato's neck. His body and mind were confused about what they wanted, but he rolled against Nagato's belly, though it gained him nothing, and he grunted like a rutting beast when a wet tip nudged his asshole.
Nagato massaged Soubi's nape, and his fingers brushed Soubi's backside as he stroked himself. Nagato's skin was hot, his breath quickening, and his hum rumbled his chest. "Sit on my cock."
Soubi lowered himself, and the stretch-fill turned reality into muddied water. He buried his continual cries against Nagato's throat, he forced himself to take Nagato's width and inches, and the internal pressure made him jerk, still, flutter. "Oooh... f-fuck... you..." Soubi whispered, strangling on need.
A rich laugh dug its way into Soubi's brain and planted seeds of terror. His scalp ignited with pain from a tight twist of his hair around a fist. A swat struck his ass cheek, the string awful for the way it woke up blossoms of want, and Nagato rocked upward while driving Soubi downward. Soubi's bellow choked him, and the world was going gray for the second time in less than half an hour.
"Ride me, little one," Nagato said against a pounding pulse point. Nagato fucked into Soubi again, pushing another shout out of Soubi. "There is no passivity in obedience, here." Another deep plunge, and Soubi was seeing stars. "You will take my cock." Again, and Christ, but Soubi could barely make out Nagato's words around the depth Nagato found within Soubi's insides. "You will fulfill my need." Plunge, rock, hold. "You will sing for me in words of gratitude and cries of thanks." Nagato yanked them face to face, bit Soubi's lower lip until it split, opened, and ripened Nagato's mouth with blood.
"Or I will see to it that the only relief you find from me and in the constructs of your servitude is in unconscious oblivion." Nagato released Soubi violently and slapped both sides of his stuffed ass. "Now work to please me, my Gentle Sweet, and I swear on the souls of the damned that you will face me in hell should you come."
"Uhn... ahn... God... oh..." Soubi chased oxygen in a never-ending marathon sprint, couldn't stop shaking, and he didn't know if the high whine in his ears was ringing or his own voice. He scrabbled a grip on the furniture and began to raise and lower himself along Nagato's cock. At first he was too slow, too sloppy, and Nagato spanked him into a frenzied pace. Then he was too shallow, and Nagato shoved Soubi downward with every swing. Soubi was sure he was screaming because his throat hurt. Teeth marred his neck, nails clawed his flanks, and Nagato in the throes of pleasure was a stunning display of demonic, unforgiving, unending, greed.
A guttural hiss in Soubi's ear: "Give unto me gratitude."
"Ohchristthankyou," Soubi slurred in a high wail, rocking, bouncing, sliding, sweating. "Thank you... fuck me... thank you... mercy, God, m-mercy...mercy..."
A Russian snarl: "Beg for it to end."
"Oooh, fuck, Your Grace, please..." Soubi's hair was in his mouth, and he had to clear it else he gag. He slapped at his face, head flying backward and spine curved in a mean arch. "G-give it to me... p-please... can't... oh God... Naga... oh-fuck-hell, aah-hahn PLEASE!"
It stopped with one more thrusting slam, and Nagato forced Soubi motionless. Soubi slouched, and he could feel the faint swell and throb of Nagato spilling inside latex inside Soubi. Nagato didn't make a sound, didn't so much as breathe, and when His Grace was spent, Nagato blew a sigh that drained him languid. Soubi rested, and hellhounds chewing his balls couldn't have given Soubi the will to move.
Soubi roused when two sets of hands lifted and lay him on his side. The drone of Russian mumble was nice, and the cool numbing sensation that overtook his asshole, entrance, and insides was even nicer. Something soft covered him, someone held him, and it wasn't until Soubi woke up the second time that he realized he was cradled in Nagato's arms and lap. Nagato was singing softly to him, a Russian lullaby, and Soubi smiled against the soft hair on Nagato's chest.
"Little one, have you returned to me?"
"Mmhm..." Soubi stretched and felt no pain. "Oooh wow... I feel fucking fantastic...?"
"A mild injection, little one," Nagato spoke around a chuckle. "You have endured much for me of late."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
"There is tea and food when you wish it." Nagato stroked his hair.
"Sounds lovely." Soubi tensed and groaned. "The paper..."
"Due in two days time, so your schedule informs me."
"You... you checked?"
"Of course." Nagato sounded amused and affronted. "What you do is tracked via my phone. Vaughn assists with such things, as my eyes disallow it."
"Oh." Soubi's heart swelled and his mind eased.
"Though you should finish your assignments today, if possible," Nagato murmured.
"Your Grace?"
"As tomorrow is the final day of penance, and I plan to grant you pardon in any fashion you dictate unto me."
It took a second for Soubi to understand that turn of Nagato prose. "You mean I get whatever I want?"
"Yes, my Gentle Soubi. Whatsoever you shall desire will be yours for it be mine in the giving."
Soubi struggled to sit up and Nagato met his gaze, calm and faintly smiling. "So... so if I wanted... a-any...?"
Nagato's smile widened. "Anything, little one."
"To... I mean..." Soubi's mind stumbled over the possibilities.
"Vengeance to sweetness, Soubi, it is yours." Nagato cupped Soubi's cheek. "You are beautiful in the wanting, but for now, your desires submit to mine, and I wish to hold you and feed you tea and bread." Nagato held out his arms.
Soubi went to Nagato in a dazed haze of blessed fortune. "Yes, Your Grace. Thank you."
~*~