DISCLAIMER: I don't own Naruto nor any of its characters - those belong to Kishimoto Masashi.
WARNING: The following one-shot contains adult content. It's Hidan. 'nuff said.
The dank alley reeked of decaying garbage and urine. He had been standing there far too long. Fat maggots were feasting on a putrid cat carcass. Twelve minutes. He felt his right eye twitch. This happened all too often; being dragged to an undisclosed location and forced to wait. His fraying nerves were on edge.
The stench would follow him long after leaving the shit hole. Fifteen minutes. No sound emanated from the rusted, unhinged door he was made to wait in front of. A particularly large roach decided to test his patience by creeping up to his sandal. He looked at it disdainfully. The following exquisite crunch sent a shiver up his spine, igniting the sheer desire for pain. Seventeen minutes. Sublime, enticing pain. The sound of a back door slamming open drew him from his reverie. Twenty minutes.
He smelled her before he saw her. Cheap perfume and alcohol. Twenty two minutes. A feminine silhouette slinking in the shadows. The dead cockroach's innards seeped from underneath his feet.
She was a filthy creature crawling towards a god. A flawless, ageless god. She eyed the triangular pendant hanging on his smooth, bare chest. He noted the veneration in her eyes. Adonis and Medusa.
"You got a light?"
Twenty five minutes. The dead cat's stench and her acrid perfume mingled in the air. He gazed at the cigarette dangling from her hot pink lips.
"Sure."
He observed the way she slowly strutted toward him. Translucent dress hugging naked curves. Twenty seven minutes. He scraped the large insect's entrails from beneath his sandal.
He looked up to see her offering him her gaudy colored lips, long cigarette suggestively resting between them. He reached up, pulled the cigarette from her lips and dropped it on the rotting, feline remains. She gazed at his chiseled chest as he brushed his fingers down her arms.
He felt the rush starting to run up his spine. He pressed her against the wall. She bit her bottom lip and smiled temptingly. He took note of the hideous pink smeared across her front teeth. She reached out to touch him but he grasped her wrists and held them above her.
Twenty nine minutes. With his free hand, he pulled down her tawdry dress, letting it slide down her naked hips and thighs. He smirked at her blatantly voluptuous body. She groaned when he ran his hands down her hips and pressed himself against her. She squirmed as his cool, thick chain slid against her naked breasts. She tried to find his lips but he pulled away from her.
"Spread."
He caught her observing his painfully obvious erection while she spread her legs apart.
"Spread your lips."
Dazed, with her eyes caught between his distinct arousal and the triangular pendant, she obeyed.
"No. Your other lips."
Thirty four minutes. He smiled seductively as she complied. He knew she was lost; completely entranced from the moment she first looked into his eyes. The realization that she would do whatever he wanted sent spasms through his body.
He released his scythe. Her fingers were wet. The maggots began to creep over the discarded cigarette.
She gazed into his deep, violet eyes while he slowly approached her. He slid his hand languidly up her thighs. Thirty seven minutes. He slipped his fingers between her chapped lips. The scythe began to trace the same route up her inner thigh. He watched her trace her lips over his fingers leaving hot pink stains. In one swift motion, he thrust his scythe between her thighs. His fingers in her mouth stifled her scream.
Thirty nine minutes. Thick blood dripped down her legs. The smell of fresh blood over powered the stench of her perfume. He couldn't bear it any longer. His erection was painful. The scent of her blood and arousal was painful. All the waiting was painful. Tantalizingly painful.
He licked the blood pooling between the lodged scythe and her flesh. Release. The exquisite ritual. The heaving breasts. The rotting cat. The hard-on. The monochromatic skin.
Forty three minutes. He observed the horror in her eyes. Scarlet oozing over garish pink lips. Similar crimson seeping over his black lips. The need to touch himself - to touch her through him - was excruciating. The gleaming scythe plunged through his chest. Blinding pain erupted from her breasts. Blinding ecstasy erupted from his arousal. He knew she'd come too. They were connected. Pain and pleasure. The priest and the whore.
Forty five minutes. Hollow footsteps echoed through the silent alley just as the rusted, unhinged door was thrust aside. The distinct odor of crisp new bills wafted from the opened hallway.
"What the hell have you been doing out here?"
"Waiting. What the fuck did you think I'd be doing?"
