AN: Alright, this is the request for Kuramasweetheart12. She requested a KakuHida lemon, and so here one is. :3 Pairing: KakuHida Kakuzu POV, Angst, Fluff, Lemon, Yaoi, song-inspired. *******************************************************************************
What piqued my interest, despite what I said about it, was when Hidan would corral a group of unwitting, young ninja and get them huddled in a group like cattle. He'd pick them off one by one with his rituals, bathing in the blood of his victims like a cackling witch. He'd jab his pike into his heart time after time, and by the end of it he'd be covered in layer after layer of blood, with it pouring down his cloak and stuck in his hair, flowing down his face like he'd cracked open his head.
But, even after that, there was something still more intriguing about these rituals. When the targets were known followers of his religion...Hidan would sing the saddest song I had ever heard, in words only he seemed able to understand. When he'd do them in the forest, it seemed that the forest would sing with him, in the desert, the sand would mirror his dance. The wind would mimic his howls and the sea and sky would cry with him; all of nature seemed to suffer just as much as my Jashinist would.
It was these bloody rituals and depressiong dances that made me wonder what all there was to him. Sure, he was a pissy bitch most of the time and he liked to pull most of his shit to piss me off, but that didn't mean there wasn't something there. Even if what we had was just correctional for him...something to make him behave better. Sometimes...I wondered if I hadn't been given him for myself to learn and be corrected. After all, so many times before, I had killed my new partner before another one could be even thought of. The Akatsuki had gone through more S ranked ninja because of me than with normal battles alone.
Or, maybe, this was a way for whoever controlled the world as a puppet to get back at both of us for all we had done in our lives. The Akatsuki showed in two or three different groups for our wrong-doings. Those like Itachi and Kisame, who had seen more destruction than they should have, were blessed with each other. Those like Deidara, who had been too mouthy to his first partner, had him replaced by an aggravating idiot. Pein...he was too cruel to deserve her, but she kept coming back. Konan....she must have done something awful in her life to deserve that treatment.
And, now, as I watch Hidan dance in the blood of the rarely spared Jashinist he had killed...I wonder what brought us together. We have a fairly good dynamic, actually. Sure, he's a bitch, but what's a bitch without his bastard. We were nothing if we weren't this way to each other, so it continued to happen. Even as I watch him, the sky tears a deep gash in itself with a loud cry, and with a flash of thunder proceeded by another roar of pain, the clouds sob watery tears of blood upon this ritual-gone-wrong.
The rain soaks everything, but is slow to rinse the bloody scene before me. While it takes a small scouring pad to the landscape, it's almost as if Hidan is spared. After such a long ritual, he is always weak. As he stands in his symbol, I watch the pike drop from his hand and clatter to the grassy ground. The loamy smell of mud and rain begins to fill the air, as well as the acrid scent of blood, and I sigh. His pike goes into the backpack I carry, and I heft his body on my right arm, carrying his scythe in my left.
On nights like this, I wash him off in the nearest river and we go to the nearest town. I actually shell out enough money for a decent hotel with two beds and carry him upstairs. I lay him out in a bed by himself after stripping him down and covering him. Just this once, I turn on the heat so he doesn't freeze himself, and head for a hot shower, myself, putting my own clothes and everything on the radiator with his.
I turn the shower on as hot as I can stand it, knowing that if I were Hidan there would be no cold water mixed in. I get in and almost instantly it heats my chilled body. Walking at least twenty minutes in a downpour lugging along a might-as-well-be-dead body can really chill one to the bones. My skin erupts in gooseflesh and I shiver a little under the hot water, purring my contentment for all of ten minutes as I wash myself up. When I exit, Sleeping Beauty seems to have stirred. And he's already gotten me kind of angry with him.
There the zealot sat, curled up under two blankets, two sheets, and hoarding eight pillows. My bed was stripped bare; he had taken everything and given me no choice. I stalk over to his bed and flopped on the end, prying into his cocoon of covers and melding my warm body to his still chilled one. I get an irate glare in return.
"The fuck you doin', fuckface?" He growls, eyes narrowing. I just sigh and push closer, laying us down and closing my eyes.
"Warming you up and going to sleep." My hands travel to his shoulders, rubbing tenderly to heat his frozen skin. At first, he fights it...but soon he submits like a good boy and I hug him close.
"You're fuckin' hot."
"Thanks." I offer off-handedly. He smacks my head.
"Not like that, asshole." He muttered, blushing, "I mean...your skin." I nod a moment, before pause and begin to rub down his sides. He squirms a little. "Now, what the fuck are you doing?!"
"I thought of another way to warm you up." I roll on top of him and, in an instant, the covers are whipped away from our bodies. He struggles to get them back on but I use some threads in my arms to bind his arms, twisting them behind his back and holding them there. This, of course, has me forcing him onto his knees, face down in the blankets.
"What the fu--" With his mouth open like that, bitching away, I don't think I could stand it. I took my chance to fill his mouth full of threads, using them to muffle his voice. He's choking, but it feels good, so I continue it. He's going to be pissed when we're done...but this is too hot, I can't stop myself. More tentacles, these out of my thighs, wrap around his upper thighs and force his legs apart. It's painful, just for him, because I know he likes that sort of thing. He groans but I can't quite hear it clearly.
I sit back a moment and admire my handiwork; for good measure, I slip some threads beneath him and wrap them around his neck, keeping him down. He looks just perfect, spread out like this for me. It's delicious, and I think I catch myself drooling. Licking my lips, I use another thread to go to the bathroom and retrieve the bottle of hotel lotion sitting on the counter. I then brought it back and lathered my erection sparsely in it, before pushing in nice and hard. He screams, but it's hardly heard by anyone, except maybe himself.
My thrusts don't give him a chance to even breathe, and I know the burning in his lungs and ass is something he enjoys, from the way he's squirming for more, moaning my name. I finally pull the strings from his mouth and hear him whine, "Put those back! And cut up my throat!" Well, if he insists. I shove back into him, both ends at once, and begin to thrust the threads in his mouth. He starts to suck them almost desperately as I grind into him.
"Ahh-eerr." He manages desperately after a moment, and I grin and pound him harder. I can tell by the twitching of his hips that he's getting there, and soon he screams out as loud as I've ever heard him; that has to be that spongy spot deep within him. Now, all thrusts are angled on that spot and I begin to drive into him like a piston; over and over, faster and faster and harder and harder.
A thread swirls around his cock, constricting it gently and brushing the head hard enough to leave a mark. This has him coming hard, all over the thread and the covers. I manage a few more thrusts before filling him up, as well. I have enough brain left to pull from his mouth and shove the thread with his cum on it to his mouth, forcing him to suck it clean before I collapse to the side, dragging him with me. He lays on his hands until I release them, letting him sprawl on his back above me. He pants a little before turning over and looking at me.
"You're a rat bastard, you know that?" His voice is hoarse.
"Yeah, I know, Hidan. But aren't you warmer?"
"...yeah, it is. How'd you do that?"
"Sex is exercise. Exercise makes you hot and sweaty, moron."
"Shut the fuck up, assface."
"...you can't think, can you?" That made him go red and he hit my chest hard.
"Shut the fuck UP!"
"How about you shut up and go to sleep?"
"...fine. But I'm not sleeping on that." He points to his puddle of cum. I get us up and pull out, setting him on my bed. I pull the top covers off and crumple them on the floor, then pull them back and lay him down in it. Soon, we're snuggled up in the bed and he closes his eyes first. "You're the biggest asshole I've ever met. I was a fucking virgin."
"I love you, too." Soon after this complaint, he was out like a light. ******************************************************************************** AN: I hope you liked it! I know it took me a while to do, I kept getting distracted.