Good Cop, Bad Cop
Closed eyes move in their sockets as Itachi’s brain struggles to locate itself in space. Finally, they open ever so slightly.
“You gave us quite a scare there,” I say when he sits up. “Hiruzen carried you to bed; guess the hunt and the hot bath were too much after that hike. He may think your youth makes you immortal because he can barely remember his own, but I know your health is frail.”
“I’m sorry, Lord Danzo,” Itachi whispers and rubs his forehead.
“Don’t be.”
His flushed skin smells of water and linen, and I let my hand wander down his arm again.
“Lord Danzo?”
“Too soon? Do you need some more rest, boy?”
Itachi is confused. Confused and naked. What a sight to behold!
“As discussed with your father, you’ll be here for both business and pleasure. So if you’re not feeling too terrible anymore, please turn around with your backside to me.”
His feverish cheeks drain, no, his entire brain drops into his stomach. “What..? What did my father..?”
“Did he forget to tell you, then?” Gently but firmly, I push Itachi down. “We talked at length to be sure you’re ready, and he promised to talk you through it.”
“I… I don’t… I don’t know anything about-”
“Huh.” I turn him around. He’s too dumbfounded to resist and just flops on his face. “That’s strange, though he did mention it might be easier for you if we just throw you in the deep end instead of tantalising you. Now that I think about it, that actually was the final agreement of that evening. Forgive me, we did have a drink or two.”
The moment my fingers touch the inside of his thigh, Itachi curls up like a hedgehog, so tightly his legs tremble. No virgin responds like this, but neither does someone with fond memories of their first time.
“Now, don’t be difficult. Your father gave express permission to use you. Said he caught you servicing a whole queue in the Anbu locker room, so you know all about this.”
“I didn’t, I…”
I haul Itachi back into position, then my cock. “Why would your father lie? Anyway, we already paid.”
His breath hitches as I enter him all the way with no preparation. I don’t believe in easing people into anything other than poison tolerance. He will receive my full length one way or another, so why draw it out? All his brain remembers how to do is cover his mouth and moan through white knuckles. Each stroke has his shoulders taut as he bites back another noise.
“You don’t have to be graceful about getting fucked, boy,” I whisper into his ear. “We’re all alone up here. Your father said he caught you with those other men by following the noise, so don’t hold back now.”
Itachi’s head lifts as if he’s going to protest that story again, but he bites his hand instead to stifle another cry. Wrapping his hair around my hand, I pull his head back and take him faster. There’s those yelps, testimony of his facade crumbling and brutally revealing the vulnerable child he’s been hiding from us all this time. Like an egg, you have to break the outer shell and separate the gold from its slime bedding. I don’t need Itachi Uchiha to have a personality, much less a soul. I need a ninja who will endure anything for the greater good and isn’t fazed by filth, pain, or the most asinine of human emotions: shame. By the time this trip draws to a close, I want him indifferent to being taken in the street, in his brother’s full classroom, or at his parents’ dining table.
The prospect of turning this snooty piece of shit into a soulless doll sends me over the edge and I can tell he feels every drop. Pulling out, I crank his head around. Tears sit on his lids, but he refuses to let them flow. Good boy. From an entirely professional point of view, this is progress. Personally? I would love nothing more than for this arrogant little cunt to chew his own lip bloody while sniffing tears and snot up that flat little nose.
The door opens and Hiruzen waltzes in as if he didn’t know what we were doing. “Danzo, what have you done now?” He drops to his knees in front of Itachi and wraps him in the small yukata we had prepared for him. “Imagine passing out in a hot spring and waking up to… I can’t believe you did that, now of all times!”
“You better believe it.”
Hiruzen is piling on with the Good Cop shtick, because there never was any question as to who the Bad Cop would be. “I know Fugaku told us to handle him as we see fit, but he didn’t forbid us from handling him with care!”
“He also didn’t forbid us from fucking him bloody.”
“You didn’t-” Hiruzen pulls Itachi’s cheeks apart like a piece of livestock at a routine inspection, and that’s exactly what’s in store for this boy. A bleeder that small is a non-issue. “You’re an animal, Danzo, has anyone ever told you that?”
Itachi ties the obi of the white yukata and scoots out from between us to disappear in the bathroom. Some rustling of toilet paper and a pop from the lid of the rubbish bin later, he mindlessly floats out and in the direction of the porch slider.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll go get some air...”
“Some air,” Hiruzen echoes. “You’ll catch your death in that cold. Danzo was just going to relax in the living room, so you stay here and let me rub out the knots I bet he put in you. Poor thing, this is unbelievable!”
How can I relax when I can hear them back there? Hiruzen is giving Itachi the talk, consent, bodily autonomy, the limits of what you can order a ninja to do or be done to. I have to hand it to him, he knows how to make people think his wishes are their own. Playing on fears and insecurities has worked fine for me, but I wish that I, too, had this extra card up my sleeve.
“Tell me when you want me to stop, Itachi,” Hiruzen says. Sly old bastard.
Itachi’s sense of duty can be heard loud and clear, because I don’t hear him at all. A smirk tugs at my face and I gently open the slider to peek through. Hiruzen is holding Itachi in his arms, the boy spread out on top of his master, the position giving him the sweet illusion of having a semblance of control as Hiruzen slides his cold, tobacco-scented tongue into his quivering mouth. Itachi’s body is stiff as a plank, his little fists balled on the futon, trembling to support his weight so he doesn’t have to lie too snugly against the old man’s naked body beneath him.
Hiruzen reaches for his cock that is wrinkly even erect, and works it between Itachi’s cheeks, but the boy is nestled too far up.
“Lay on your back for me, will you,” Hiruzen mutters while already draping Itachi across his futon.
Itachi’s floppy arms landing on Hiruzen’s futon and his impeccable feet on mine, his head and legs on the floor, Hiruzen gently spreads him and gives him a smile way too warm for the situation, or maybe Hiruzen really is that clueless and thinks non-resistance equals consent. He fumbles with his cock again, but maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s his age, but it’s not hard enough to penetrate that young, clenched ass. I watch the pathetic performance with no small amount of glee. Itachi is limp head to toe, staring a hole into the ceiling even without using his sharingan. Grunting and fidgeting, Hiruzen makes his impotence Itachi’s problem, and this good, good boy is doing his best to appear unfazed by it. Until Hiruzen suddenly drops the ivory hip he’s just pulled into his lap.
“Silly me, forgive me,” he rumbles and reaches for a small bagk of toiletries by his futon to produce a bottle of lubricant. “Here I am, scolding Danzo for being too rough with you, when I don’t even practice what I preach. I’m sorry, Itachi. There, there.”
He lathers the slime on himself, then turns Itachi on his side for better access to slick him up, too. The smacking noise of the gel between fingers and buttocks disgusts even me, but finally, Hiruzen glides into the still body whose only sign of life is the desperate attempt to keep its composure.