“In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced or cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloodied but unbowed…
It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul” (W. E. Henley)
The first and last and most important thing is that Haku believes in Zabuza. He loves him, and follows him, and would die for him with a smile, because Zabuza has a strength of soul and purpose that could turn the world upside down if he could only find a place to stand.
Sometimes Zabuza forgets that, forgets just how strong he is, lets himself get bogged down in the petty demands of the men he sells his sword to, and it is up to Haku to remind him, because Zabuza trusts Haku. And that’s also the first and last and most important thing, because if Zabuza didn’t trust Haku then Haku’s belief would change nothing, and if Haku didn’t believe in Zabuza then Zabuza’s trust would be misplaced. Give and take, push and pull, without that it all falls apart.
And while these things are always true under the surface, it is only at moments like these that they are exposed, obvious, present in the here and now, and Haku adores it. It’s been a bad week on top of a bad month on top of a bad few years, failing to kill the Mizukage was always going to have consequences, but down is not out and Haku can remember that even when Zabuza forgets.
He’d found Zabuza with the bottle muttering about failed revolutions and blazes of glory and hadn’t flinched as he took the bottle from Zabuza’s hand and ordered him into a cold shower to sober up. There was really only one way to deal with Zabuza when he was like this.
He dresses himself in tight black leather trousers, a delicate silk top so fine it was almost transparent, high heeled boots, and a riding crop, and sits, poised elegantly on the edge of the table as he waits for Zabuza to come out. He waits with the icy calm of a frozen river, because if Zabuza is caught up in emotional turmoil then Haku cannot afford to be, not when survival is a knife edge of skill and luck and awareness for both of them.
Zabuza comes out of the bathroom stark naked and considerably more sober. His eyes widen when he sees Haku tapping his riding crop gently against the side of his boot. The sight is mesmerising, Haku is a study in precision and control and utter lack of doubt, and Zabuza finds himself powerless against it.
“Your safewords are family to slow down and graduation to stop. I expect you to use them if you have to.” Zabuza simply nods in acknowledgement as the ice in Haku’s voice sends shivers down his spine.
“Good.” Haku smiles, before his tone turns sharp, “Now on your knees, hands behind your back.” Zabuza hits the floor hard enough to bruise, and the pain sends a warm curl of arousal through his abdomen.
Haku runs his riding crop lightly over Zabuza’s chest and stomach, just enough to tease. Zabuza snarls as Haku brings it up over his throat and catches him under the chin, and Haku smiles at the fierceness. He holds for a heartbeat before drawing back twisting round and bringing the crop down hard over Zabuza’s shoulders in one fluid motion. He strikes again and again until Zabuza’s shoulders are a vicious map of crisscrossing marks, and he marvels at the way Zabuza doesn’t even flinch.
“So strong, so brave aren’t you? My love.” He murmurs softly, and pretends he doesn’t notice how Zabuza shudders at the praise. “There’s nothing in this world could make you flinch.” He moves closer and runs his fingers over the welts, and Zabuza hardens at his touch, at the painpleasure feeling when he digs his fingernails into abused flesh. Haku himself is far from unaffected.
“Want to test that?” Zabuza spits at him in a tone that’s half challenge half desperation. “Want to see how far you can push, or are you just too fucking soft?”
“Soft? No I don’t think I am.” Haku’s voice is as light and delicate as snowflakes as he replies but there’s no ignoring the intent behind it. “If you lie facedown on the bed I’ll give you just what you need.” Zabuza growled in response but in the end he lay down just as Haku asked because the first and last and most important thing is that he trusts Haku.
Haku kneels on the bed beside his lover as he takes out the acupuncture needles. Less well balanced than his fighting senbon, but sterile, as his weapons are not, they shine silver and promising as he whispers at Zabuza not to move.
“Don’t worry my love. I know you can take this. It’s only pain, and you are so much more than that.” He keeps whispering as he slides the needles home, strategically piercing tenketsu points and chakra channels to send a wave of pain that feels like fire, and ice, and dawn breaking, and Zabuza isn’t sure whether to beg, or scream, or come, at the sheer force of it. He does none of those things though, he refuses to show that much weakness so he just grins wildly, all teeth and defiance and knows Haku will understand, will take it as his cue to push further. His lover sides the final needle home and the sheer skill and precision of what he’s done is a turn on all by itself. But then Haku sends a small pulse of chakra through one of the needles and the feeling as the foreign chakra flows through his system along the pathways Haku has mapped out with steel and skill, before grounding itself at the final needle into his delicate fingertips is indescribable. Pain and pleasure and pure intimacy, and Haku trusts him not to break, not to flinch and so Zabuza won’t, because the first and last and most important thing is that Haku believes in Zabuza.
Haku feels his chakra return to him after its movement through Zabuza’s body and he basks in the warm buzz as he removes the needles one by one. He tidies away as he goes. After all you never know when you might have to leave in a hurry, leaving things unpacked is just poor preparation. Zabuza sighs, muscles rippling along his back as Haku eases the last needle free. He turns over with all the predatory grace of a lion, Haku hardens at the sheer power in the movement and can’t resist the urge to test that strength to its limits.
Haku looks into Zabuza’s eyes with a terrifying kind of devotion, it sends shivers down Zabuza’s spine, and part of him wants to run from it, run and never stop running, while another part wants to cling to it like it’s the only solid thing left in the world. But Zabuza has never been one to run, or cling, so he pushes back hard, snarls, and grins, and looks right back into Haku’s eyes with desire, with demand, with a challenge that he knows his lover will rise to. And he does, oh he does, and the adrenaline rush that Zabuza feels when Haku leans over him shirtless with a blade in his right hand and healing chakra in his left is everything Zabuza needs.
In this, as in all things Haku is precise. Cut wrongly, or too deep, and even the green fire in his left hand will not be able to fix the damage caused by his right. He is precise, but he does not hesitate, and the heady calm he feels knowing that lesser men would be screaming under his hands, is intoxicating. Bright red cuts appearing, and then disappearing just as quickly, leaving only smears, and swirls of blood where his hands have been. Zabuza tenses but does not flinch, breathes fast and ragged but does not whimper, and the sheer force of will, the pure unadulterated stubbornness of this man is mesmerising. The coppery scent of blood fills the air, and Haku leans in close, skin to skin, painting them both with Zabuza’s blood as he presses their lips together. They are both at fever pitch now and Haku decides to bring things to a conclusion.
Haku pulls away for a moment, licks down Zabuza’s chest and over one nipple as he buries a hastily lubed finger in his lover. He is not gentle with his preparations, and Zabuza snarls, and whines, and purrs, at the pleasurepain friction of Haku’s elegant finger moving within him. Haku moves up and kisses him again as he adds another finger. The kiss tastes of heat and blood and something that Zabuza refuses to call love even though there is no other name for it that would be true, and Zabuza kisses back hard and brutal, biting at Haku’s lip until Haku’s blood joins his own in both of their mouths. Haku is up to three fingers now, and he pulls away. Lining himself up with Zabuza’s entrance and then holding there, waiting, until Zabuza snaps.
“Fuck me already, if you’ve got the stones for it.” It’s a demand not a plea, Zabuza never begs, and Haku wouldn’t consider asking him to because it is this power, this refusal to bow or beg to anyone that makes Haku love him. Haku waits no longer, burying himself deep in the hard, scarred body under him.
The way they come together is fast and brutal, it leaves bruises on both of them, on Haku’s arms, and Zabuza’s hips, turning their skins into a mottled canvas of red and dark blue. But for all that they are close enough to share breath and neither of them will look away or blink. Zabuza bites down hard on Haku’s shoulder as he comes, breaks the skin, and the pain of it is enough to make Haku follow. They collapse exhausted for a moment before the stickiness of dried sweat and blood has them both wordlessly agreeing to return to the shower.
After showering and changing the sheets the two of them lie down together, back to back, heart to heart. Their weapons are close to hand but they both leave their clothes off, it’s worth the added vulnerability to feel each other’s skin as they fall asleep. Because the first and last and most important thing is that they love each other.