[Week Eight, Day Five] Dream- "Little Blessings"
WARNING FOR THE PORN. And bloodplay. And dubious uses of genjutsu. And the gay. Well, the bisexual, if you want to be picky about it.
The first thing you see is the dim, the sucking blackness at the edge of everything. There are torches, but they don't do much against this kind of dark. Nothing can.
The second thing that you notice is that feel of sticky-hot skin against you, of mouths against your throat and hands on you, trailing down to places that you just don't mention in polite company. The arousal burns through you, turning in to a want, a need. Mouths went lower, sucking and kissing, living bites in their wake, until one wraps its lips around the head of your cock. Your head lolls back, and you weave your fingers into a head of hair. Male, female, it didn't matter. All was the same here.
Welcome to the cult of Jashin.
That mouth on your cock teases you, and there's a groan as you thrust yourself into them, driving yourself deeper into their mouth, their throat. It doesn't matter who they are, and you can feel teeth on your cock, and that's when you pull that hair as a warning. They look up you, smirking before taking you into their mouth again, their hands against your legs. There's something that demands your attention, a sharp pain at your arm, and you look aside just in time to catch a glance at a woman licking the blood off your arm, knife in one hand. It makes you smirk, and you tangle your other hand in her hair, pulling her close and bruising your lips together, tasting that salty-sweet taste like copper in your mouth.
That mouth on your cock? It's still going, and you choke out a laugh. They pause, and that's when you feel him standing behind you. You can feel his chakra flare, and you know immediately who it is.
Everyone goes still for the man in the red and white robes. He has a name, a sacred name, one that's whispered as they lower their heads. You don't bow yours- you don't bow to anyone except for your god. Your god, the amulet of which the robed man wears, and he tilts his head, waving the others away.
They scatter like mice. And that's when you feel it, watching his hands nimbly form the seals. He's gifted in it, but you know this already. The genjutsu peels your mind apart as you fall to your knees, trying to combat it but losing. You can feel his hands on you, but you can see nothing. You can feel his cock sliding down your throat, but you can't hear anything. You feel yourself choking until he pulls back. You can feel the floor of the cave underneath you, and you're powerless to stop it as he pushes you onto your bed- nothing more than a cushion, a pillow, and a blanket. You still can't see anything, but you don't need to. You can't move as he moves you, as he slips off his own robes. You can't cry out as he pushes himself into you, can't moan when he builds up a tempo. In this, you are alone and yet not as you feel your mind shaking, each moment dragging on for what seems like ages.
The veil doesn't slip, so much is his control. And you have to admit that you like it, like it when he lets go of one of your senses long enough to press his bleeding palm to your lips and tells you to let go. You know the sacred seal is there on the ground, and you can feel as your body changes, but you can't see as your skin blackens and the skeleton-markings appear.
And then you are alone again. You can't hear his own moans as he cuts you again and again, superficial wounds that you can feel stitching themselves back together as he drives into you, impossibly deep.
And time stretches on. You have no concept of it here, and everything is reduced to feeling, your other senses sealed away. But you do feel yourself growing closer to the edge of something as he thrusts into you, feel yourself losing the control that you've always given up easily. When you finally come, the seconds drag on until it almost hurts, until you almost plead for him to let you go, but at the same time wish that it could keep going. You feel his own thrusts going shallow, and when he finally comes, everything comes back. The darkness in the cave is blinding, and you can smell the smoke from the torches that light the place into only dimness. You can hear the others somewhere else, moans that break into the night. And you can see him bleeding as the marks leave your skin, as what was once black becomes normal again, and you see him smirk as he pulls out and adjusts his robes again, and you sit up.
This is the only man you ever felt any shred of respect for, and he rests a hand on your head as he stands. His voice is calm when he speaks, and in it there's a smile that he always carried.
"Jashin bless you."
Because you know no one else will.
[Hidan rolls onto his side in the hovel he's squatting in. His eyes blink open, and he smirks, stretching against the floor, with his robe thrown over himself and his arm being used as a pillow. He looks down at the Hitomi, shaking it and turning it off.]
The first thing you see is the dim, the sucking blackness at the edge of everything. There are torches, but they don't do much against this kind of dark. Nothing can.
The second thing that you notice is that feel of sticky-hot skin against you, of mouths against your throat and hands on you, trailing down to places that you just don't mention in polite company. The arousal burns through you, turning in to a want, a need. Mouths went lower, sucking and kissing, living bites in their wake, until one wraps its lips around the head of your cock. Your head lolls back, and you weave your fingers into a head of hair. Male, female, it didn't matter. All was the same here.
Welcome to the cult of Jashin.
That mouth on your cock teases you, and there's a groan as you thrust yourself into them, driving yourself deeper into their mouth, their throat. It doesn't matter who they are, and you can feel teeth on your cock, and that's when you pull that hair as a warning. They look up you, smirking before taking you into their mouth again, their hands against your legs. There's something that demands your attention, a sharp pain at your arm, and you look aside just in time to catch a glance at a woman licking the blood off your arm, knife in one hand. It makes you smirk, and you tangle your other hand in her hair, pulling her close and bruising your lips together, tasting that salty-sweet taste like copper in your mouth.
That mouth on your cock? It's still going, and you choke out a laugh. They pause, and that's when you feel him standing behind you. You can feel his chakra flare, and you know immediately who it is.
Everyone goes still for the man in the red and white robes. He has a name, a sacred name, one that's whispered as they lower their heads. You don't bow yours- you don't bow to anyone except for your god. Your god, the amulet of which the robed man wears, and he tilts his head, waving the others away.
They scatter like mice. And that's when you feel it, watching his hands nimbly form the seals. He's gifted in it, but you know this already. The genjutsu peels your mind apart as you fall to your knees, trying to combat it but losing. You can feel his hands on you, but you can see nothing. You can feel his cock sliding down your throat, but you can't hear anything. You feel yourself choking until he pulls back. You can feel the floor of the cave underneath you, and you're powerless to stop it as he pushes you onto your bed- nothing more than a cushion, a pillow, and a blanket. You still can't see anything, but you don't need to. You can't move as he moves you, as he slips off his own robes. You can't cry out as he pushes himself into you, can't moan when he builds up a tempo. In this, you are alone and yet not as you feel your mind shaking, each moment dragging on for what seems like ages.
The veil doesn't slip, so much is his control. And you have to admit that you like it, like it when he lets go of one of your senses long enough to press his bleeding palm to your lips and tells you to let go. You know the sacred seal is there on the ground, and you can feel as your body changes, but you can't see as your skin blackens and the skeleton-markings appear.
And then you are alone again. You can't hear his own moans as he cuts you again and again, superficial wounds that you can feel stitching themselves back together as he drives into you, impossibly deep.
And time stretches on. You have no concept of it here, and everything is reduced to feeling, your other senses sealed away. But you do feel yourself growing closer to the edge of something as he thrusts into you, feel yourself losing the control that you've always given up easily. When you finally come, the seconds drag on until it almost hurts, until you almost plead for him to let you go, but at the same time wish that it could keep going. You feel his own thrusts going shallow, and when he finally comes, everything comes back. The darkness in the cave is blinding, and you can smell the smoke from the torches that light the place into only dimness. You can hear the others somewhere else, moans that break into the night. And you can see him bleeding as the marks leave your skin, as what was once black becomes normal again, and you see him smirk as he pulls out and adjusts his robes again, and you sit up.
This is the only man you ever felt any shred of respect for, and he rests a hand on your head as he stands. His voice is calm when he speaks, and in it there's a smile that he always carried.
"Jashin bless you."
Because you know no one else will.
[Hidan rolls onto his side in the hovel he's squatting in. His eyes blink open, and he smirks, stretching against the floor, with his robe thrown over himself and his arm being used as a pillow. He looks down at the Hitomi, shaking it and turning it off.]