Dont Torture Yourself Thats My Job
Heavy footsteps fall against the rock and concrete flooring. Walking, pacing, waiting. He’s late again. Later than usual. The later the hour the more he worried. The more he worried the more his temper flared. The more his temper flared, the stronger a chance of something, or someone paying the price. It may not involve money, but taking his frustrations out on his lover was a common occurrence when the two of you could not die by normal means.
“I told him he shouldn’t have gone out. Stupid brat.”
He mutters to himself as he paces the closed quarters of the bedroom. The room feels empty despite his own presence. Empty, missing something, missing him. Fuck did he miss him.
His lover wanted to go out tonight. Some stupid bar for some stupid reason or another. Said that it would be perfect. Said he was going to go hang out with some work friends. The blonde bomber to be specific. The two of them were always running around doing something or another at night. Usually they had an adult to babysit them. Either the red haired nihilistic puppet master who was the object of adoration for the young blonde. Or in the case of the silver haired Jashinist, it was himself who babysat the young dumb duo on their escapade to get as intoxicated as possible.
Tonight the puppet master had locked himself in his room rambling on about how the late fall chill at night did horrors to his internal metal workings. And the elder had more than enough to do unraveling the latest chaos that was the base's financial state.
Drinking was not an option for either… and considering that they both could not get drunk, one who could not eat at all, the other with multiple hearts to filter out the alcoholic substances quickly, it was a fruitless adventure that only cost them money.
But still the two young boys insisted. Rather begged to go out and have what they considered downtime fun. And tonight, being left to his own thoughts and mind, Kakuzu could not contain the racing, raging thoughts that ran through his head.
“Where is that brat? He knew he had to be home by midnight. It's half past that. Does he have no respect for me whatsoever?”
The muttering has turned to angry words now spoken out into the abyss of the room. Echoing off the walls and creating an echo as feet stomp back and forth making an attempt to dig a trench in the rock and concrete floor of the room with the methodical pace that the masked man took.
“Fucker better be home soon. I am not dragging myself out to hunt him down.”
He grumbles as the pacing continues. He walks to the desk, opens the cabinet next to it and pours himself some bourbon. The honey kind to be specific. He swirls the amber liquid in a glass and downs it in one shot. Pouring himself another one in the process.
Walking to the bed he sits himself down on the edge and pulls the black shirt he wears off. If his lover is not coming home he must be out with another man… or woman. Bed sounds better than dealing with the thoughts of his cock buried deep in someone else. Someone that is not him. Intrusive thoughts run through his mind unwelcomely.
The sound of keys in a lock. The door swings open and the silver haired man stumbles in tripping slightly over his own feet.
“Hey Kuzu. Missed me old fuck?”
He smirks as his words slur. His shirt was disheveled. His body reeked of vomit, sweat and booze.
“You need a shower and something to eat.”
“I'm fine kuzu. Like forreal. I'm good. I'm great. Promises.”
“Says the man who looks like he fucked a bitch tonight.”
“The fuck you talking about?! Fuck a bitch? Are you out of your fucking mind? Who the fuck would I fuck when I’ve got a man with a thick ass cock to cum on when I get back?”
The younger retorts in irritation. His hand reaches up to his normally slicked back hair and ruffles it down more.
“You look like you fucked a fucking bitch tonight Hidan.”
“Do you wanna come watch me fucking shower and see my fucking cock and ass and see that I don’t have some other man’s fucking jizz leaking out of me? Like I didn’t fuck some bitch.”
The old man grumbles under his breath as the younger walks towards him and straddles his lap. The smell of the drunken man is nauseating but he still lets his so-called disgustingly cute antics continue.
“Dont torture yourself old man. That’s my fucking job. It’s you and only fucking you.”