A/N: Back with part two! Later than I intended, but it needed some serious work. Mirror posted on Ao3. Enjoy!
Pairings: Genma/Ino Genma/Kakashi Ino/Sakura
Warnings: 18+ only. mature themes, explicit sexual situations, drug-use, self-harm, emotional and psychological instability and abuse, occasional dubious consent, forced (mission) prostitution, torture reference, mild bdsm themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, or make money from this work.
DUBCON: This chapter specifically contains a NC-17 scene of dubious consent. If this squicks you, please keep this in mind. The scene is not intended to be an assault, but if anything with remotely hazy consent triggers you, you should skip the last bit. :)
The Things You Said Would Break Me
Work for it girl. Dance like a hooked fish. Beg me like a stray dog.
Part Two:
X
In Konoha, under the shade of green-leafed trees, with days between missions that seemed more like months, evenings stretched long and hazy between the dim pools of streetlights, mornings drenched in weak sunlight, Genma had seen Kakashi often.
(They haven't been in Konoha for a long time, and Genma hasn't seen Kakashi for a long time, but Genma doesn't like to think about how long it's been, because then there's a chance he might have counted the days wrong, and then Kakashi might be late coming back from his mission, might be missing, might even be dead and rotting on some cliffside in Snow Country, ice-flakes dusting his nose.
Genma is still so angry that Kakashi took the stupid fucking mission to godforsaken Snow Country, of all places, but he just can't think about how long it's been.)
In Konoha, Gnema had liked to knock on the door of Kakashi's apartment, rain or shine, with his hands grabby and his hair smelling like sex.
Kakashi never said anything about how Genma fucked other people. He knew-Genma never tried to hide where his mouth had been recently when he kissed Kakashi, often didn't even bother to shower between beds. It almost gave him a thrill-when it comes to Kakashi, he let himself break all his own rules, like dominos toppling themselves over.
Their twisted, almost not-relationship didn't have a name, didn't have rules, didn't even really have limitations-even when perhaps it should have.
Genma treated his silence like it was permission, but the truth of it was Kakashi was really just too fucked up to focus on more than one person at time, simple as that. He couldn't have handled two fuckboys if he'd tried.
When Genma appears on Kakashi's cramped landing and kicks off his shoes without so much as a by-your-leave, his skin still slick from getting his brains fucked out by Raidou, or Aoba, or even Ibiki, his mouth hardly dry from someone else's lips-
Kakashi takes him by his belt loops and pushes him down on his unmade bed, licks someone else's sweat from the underside of Genma's chin, from the smudged bruises over one hipbone, fists a hand in Genma's tangled long hair and yanks his head back, snarling.
X
Kakashi has sharp teeth under that mask, Genma was delighted to find out, canines just a little too toothy to be entirely natural. Genma suspects that the Hatake's bloodline has more in common with dogs than just a summoning contract, but family is one of those things that is on the strictly no-asking list, and Kakashi certainly isn't about to tell.
(Once, Genma had touched the short, weathered case of Kakashi's old family-crested katana, admiring how it's really still in surprisingly good condition, even after all these years of disuse, and the other man hadn't spoken to him for a knows better now.)
Kakashi also has a maw of scars stretching over the left side of his face under that silky shield, a web of thin, silvery scars that look like someone once ran a hair-fine blade ever so lovingly over Kakashi's cheekbones, delicately over his mouth, the clean-cut line of his jaw.
There are so many scars it creates a web that's just a hop, skip and a jump away from checking that little box that says 'maimed' on all the medical file lists, and just a hands-breathed away from 'deformed.'
Genma is no stranger to torture, or to the tales surrounding the copy-nin. He knows how people get scars like that.
Most ninja are casual about their scars- it's a part of the life they live, a virtually guaranteed ticket. Genma himself is neutral towards his own; some of them are bad memories, but all of them are marks of survival, of take-it-like-man, of getting up and getting on.
Usually, Kakashi is just as neutral, even vaguely appreciative. He loves to touch the heavy stripes on Genma's back, and when Genma licks his way over the faint brands on Kakashi's hands, he never fails to shudder, his slightly crooked mouth falling open, eyelids fluttering shut.
But the scars on his face are a different story.
Kakashi doesn't like to show his face, almost more touchy about it than anything else in his whole messy kit of emotional baggage. It's always nothing but a blase warning on the surface level, a blocked hand and light-hearted excuse, but it goes deep, deep down to unspoken rules of 'don't ever fucking ask' and 'never, never touch without permission ,' and perhaps even 'this is how I cope, this is how I live now because it is the only way I can'.
Genma follows the rules, but sometimes, even on the rare times when Kakashi bares his face to fill his mouth with Genma's cock, he wishes he didn't have to.
He brushes his fingers over an exposed cheek, and Kakashi flinches.
Kakashi used to say that he wasn't ashamed of his scars, his eye crinkling into a merry smile as he speaks while his students stare at his masked face appraisingly. People have all heard the rumors.
Genma catches sight of Kakashi's hands over his face in the bathroom mirror in the morning, sees the strained tilt to his shoulders, and he thinks to himself that sometimes Kakashi is a bad liar.
X
When they were quite small, Ino tied a ribbon around Sakura's ankle because she liked how the other little girl could sit and listen quietly to Ino talk about anything that struck her fancy for hours, and she liked how the rosy apples of Sakura's cheeks matched the roots of her hair, and Ino's mother had told her to be especially nice to the children who often got left out from the other kids games.
Ino still doesn't understand why Sakura ever let anyone bully her, but that is the difference between them.
Sometimes Ino thinks Sakura would have been the better Eros agent. No one can keep a cool head in a mission like Sakura can, come hell or highwater or a knife in the back.
Sakura is used to being patient, used to biding her time, settling down and hunkering in for the long wait.
But Ino, Ino lives like a fast-burning candlewick and always has, racing breathlessly after the end of her ribbon.
That's what made it hard, when Naruto died.
X
Kakashi had attended the funeral, although honestly Genma hadn't expected him too. Kakashi usually avoided funerals, as a rule. Genma remembers when Asuma died, Kakashi had been nowhere to be seen for about a week. Bloody inconsiderate.
But at Naruto's funeral, bigger than that blonde idiot had probably ever anticipated, Kakashi had stood tall in line beside Sakura and Sai, clothed all in black and pale as a sheet.
Genma, three rows behind and to the left, knew that stance, knew the way Kakashi's fists were ever-so-slightly shaking and his eyes were blankly staring. Kakashi felt responsible. Kakashi has always felt responsible for Sasuke.
(It's a problem that Genma feels, somewhere very dark and very hidden inside a cramped, sour part of his heart, that in some ways, Kakashi really is at least partly responsible for the last Uchiha, a problem he would never dare voice.)
Kakashi fucks him after the funeral, fucks him mean and deep into the night and into Genma's own curled up hurt that nestles under his breastbone like a piece of rotten fruit. Genma never was naive or kind enough to believe the kids proclamations of greatness, of saving his team and his village like some kind of damned savior, but it almost ached more because of that.
Another name on the hero's stone, another courageous light snuffed cleanly out, and just another day, another day, another day.
Genma doesn't know if Kakashi ever believed in Naruto, but he knows how the copy-nin feels about losing teammates, and that's enough, that's plenty enough for Genma to pretend not to notice when Kakashi's mask against Genma's back becomes damp with tears.
X
The thing that bothered Ino, that really bothered her, was that Sakura acted like Ino didn't care that Naruto was dead, that Naruto was dead and killed by the one person they really thought he'd actually be safe from.
Ino wished the Uchiha had never been born.
Sakura acted like no one understood, that no one else was suffering, and Ino knew it had to be worse than it was for her, knew she should be a better lover, a better friend about this, but it was hard, so hard.
Sakura acted like only her hero had died that day. Ino had her own boys, it was sure, but when Naruto's last funeral incense burned away, something hopeful and fluttering had been silenced for them all, forever.
Ino remembers Sakura on the day after the funeral, when Ino's hands were icily cold, and there was an unopened mission scroll with the Eros seal on her kitchen counter, waiting.
She'd thought to herself that perhaps this really was it; this was how all the light in the world guttered out.
She'd wanted to curl up in bed with the blankets over her head-smell the soapy cleanliness of Sakura's hair tickling her cheek and fall asleep until the world was over.
But Sakura perched quietly at her kitchen table, unwashed hair over her face, hands empty, listless and stretched over the greasy formica like an offering. When Ino, sitting across from her and choking on the silence in the air, tentatively curled her fingers through the limp ones on the table, Sakura turned her face away.
She stayed at the kitchen table for a long time.
ooo
It's so lonely trying to be yours,
When we are looking for so much more
We are speaking in bodies here,
And this is what surviving looks like
My dear.
ooo
"Genma, I don't want you as my handler anymore."
Ino is sitting by the one tiny window of her room, hair damp from the shower. The patched lattice-screen was cracked open, and Ino's chest is bare and glowing in the faint light, her collarbones like moons, her breath a cloud in the crisp, chilly air.
Genma worried she would catch cold, sitting there in the night air. He lit a cigarette.
The new, untorn lingerie she bought two weeks ago is lying over the drying rack, silky and obsequious.
"Huh. That so?" He clicks his lighter closed with a firm, decisive movement. "It's a shame you're stuck with me, darlin'."
He offers her the cigarette.
Ino doesn't look at him. "I'm serious Genma. I've put in a request to headquarters for a new superior officer. I've filed an official report."
So, she'd gone right over his head. She could be so deliberately headstrong sometimes. It's really not good, for either of them.
Genma's fingers shake a little when he takes the next drag. The dimly lit, lithe shape of Ino under the window suddenly reminds him of the way Kakashi had looked before leaving on his numbingly long mission to Snow Country, all long and white and pale, with Genma's come still glistening on his stomach.
"Well...what the fuck Yamanaka."
It's a drawl, but one that comes out sharper than he intended, his control threatening to unravel like the end of a long, frayed rope.
Ino hardly twitches. She extends out one delicate hand for the cigarette.
Genma blows a stream of smoke into her face instead.
She heaves a sigh, looks out the window. Genma's fingers clench spastically for a moment, gathering himself.
"You're not watching out for yourself Yamanaka," Genma doesn't bother to drawl now, all the slow sway of his words clipped away like the stems of long-dead flowers.
"You're slipping and you know it."
"Give me the cigarette, Genma."
He gnashes his teeth, hands it to her distractedly. It would be too unacceptable not to; cigarettes are shared material between the two of them; like bedsheets, like skin, like scars.
Ino lets him try to pick up his pieces, smoking thoughtfully. There is something hazy in her mind, a sibilant something whispering that this is the only thing to do, the only thing left to do, the only thing that will make sense.
Genma is too close now, too close to her really. She wants him too much. She needs him too much. It's not good. Not good for business.
She thinks of the drug syndicate middle-man she had to fuck this morning who'd dug his nails into her back so deeply she can still feel the grooves he left on her skin burning faintly. He didn't seem like the type to wash his hands-there are probably fragments of her still caught under his dirty fingertips as she sits here now, hours later, skinned raw.
Ino can hardly hear Genma's lips moving.
She pictures her flesh flaking away in pinpointed clumps between her shoulder-blades, floating delicately out from under the hard, pink bridge of her client's thumbnail to drift to the ground in a parody of a dandelion's spores.
Part of her feels queasily victorious for that part of her which is no longer here, in this room, in this bed.
She is grossly cynical, in a detached way.
She should have charged him extra for the skin...
"Ino-Ino, wait-stop!" Genma's abruptly whip-crack sharp tone jolts her into the clarity of the here and now.
It's the same voice Genma always uses to run an immediate, hot shiver up her spine with it's raw agony, the same voice that clicks her jaw into place like a gridlock, because it means there will be pain coming now, there will be no forgiveness.
"W-What-?" She looks to see that Genma is suddenly kneeled in front her, one hand tight like a vice around her wrist, the other cupping the inner curve of her leg with a kind of strangled intimacy.
In Ino's loose fingers, the butt of the cigarette is pressed to her upper thigh, extinguished into her skin. A tendril of dying smoke wisps from the fading glow on it's end, and a faint, dull curl of pain shoots through her core.
Genma's fingers around her wrist are cruelly tight-just a second too late.
"Ah-shit!" she drops cigarette, bites her lip hard enough to bruise, as the burn on her thigh stings, reddens.
"God, Ino-fucking hell-" Genma movements are clipped and controlled, dropping her wrist like it's a useless toy and gripping her inner thigh more firmly. He pulls her wide and open like a parody of sexual aggressiveness that makes Ino's eyes abruptly unfocus, glaze over.
Genma snatches the messy first-aid kit from where it sits on a shelf above them, rips open a wad of bandages with his teeth.
It's funny, Ino can always tell that Genma is really angry about something when he starts to put things between his lips. He's like a wolf aching to teethe.
"This is the shit I'm talking about. You can't-" The antiseptic burns so cleanly she gasps, and Genma glances up at her open mouth, snarls viciously under his breath and pulls the thin cotton wrapping tighter around her leg.
"Who exactly is going to make sure you don't fuck yourself over if I'm not here? Huh?"
He ties the knot of the bandage, still kneeling at her feet. His hand is trembling as he smooths his palm over the slightly pink splotch of blood through the binding, breathing short and hard.
He leans over her leg, kisses the creamy inside of her thigh so carefully and intensely an involuntary shudder rocks it's way up Ino's spine, from her toes to the tingling crown of her head.
Her eyes are glassy, staring over Genma's head as if her handler isn't even in her room, crouched between her legs like an offering, a lover, almost a supplication.
Genma's mouth closes carefully over a pale freckle tucked behind Ino's knee. his hands are still clutched around her thigh, unwavering.
"Sweetheart, what're you doin' to yourself." A quiet murmur, barely there, but she can feel it roll over her skin, goose-pimpled.
He is on an edge, she can feel it. She can feel that much.
Ino swallows hard, swallows again, swallows a third time. There's no water in her mouth, none at all, and perhaps that's only something that sharpens her just a little bit more, just enough.
"What have you done to yourself, Genma."
X
Something hot lodges itself under Genma's tongue, plunges it's way in a searingly bright line down his throat and burns through his stomach-dirty and guilty and tangled up in heavy, singed knots.
Ino doesn't seem to notice that he's frozen in place, curled around her leg. She tilts her head at him.
"What I've done to myself has fuckin' nothing to do with it, Agent Yamanaka." Genma's whisper against her thigh is cool and brittle and such a lie he can feel it eating it's way through his teeth.
(Like those heavy scars eating their way through Kakashi's cheeks, lies like fine, tender tracings of a blade on Kakashi's lips-Genma has no fucking idea what a truth really looks like on someone's face)
Ino gazes blankly at him, her stare resolute in it's insanity, calm and collected in such a broken way, a doll in a china shop with a painted-on smile.
Genma feels the burning in his stomach, in his chest, and he wants to shake her until her teeth clatter, gather up all her broken pieces and meld them back together with brute force. He wants to peel her off the floor, set her up and wrench her back into position, until she works correctly, until she functions properly, until she's fixed.
But he can't really. Genman cannot lock Ino into place like a jigsaw puzzle, cannot soothe her, or even diminish her fear. Genma is no healer, no craftsman.
Genma is an Eros agent.
X
He grabs her arm, tosses her onto the mattress, flips her onto her stomach. His fingers are cruel on her thighs as he hikes her legs up, up, up, digging his nails in.
His motions are so fluid at first Ino barely registers the movement, but she does manage to notice, on a double-take, that he's snapped. It's so subtle, so careful.
It is so like Genma to crack minisculely, omnisciently, just another hairline fracture to add to his collection, but it's enough.
Ino knows him well enough by now to know that it's enough.
"Gen-!" She gasps raggedly, air sharp and cold in her numb lungs. She wasn't expecting this, and a small part of Genma feels vindicated by that, that she can still be surprised, shocked into action, as she mewls and pushes against him almost automatically.
"You're putting yourself in danger, Agent." His voice sneers over the title.
Genma fists a hand in all that cornsilk hair like he's demanding something, yanks her head back, feels a savage pleasure roll like a thunderclap up his spine when she moans, hot and lustful.
That's good. He wants her to want this, to feel this.
"You're putting this whole fucking mission in danger." His fingers are rough, and ache inside her in a disgustingly delicious way, sweet like the candy that rots your teeth. One, two, three.
She moves her hips like that, and it's beautiful, it's horrifying, Genma can hardly watch.
Ino is so far gone she doesn't know if she loves or hates him right now, with Genma curled over her, his unyielding chest pressed into her back like he wants to melt into her skin, his voice violent and bruising and his skin burning up for her, burning and burning and burning.
"Ff-fuck you." Ino spits the words between panting breaths. Her entire body is shaking. Genma isn't holding back, isn't even remotely holding back, something in him dark and snapped and dragging a bark of mocking laughter from his lips at her insult.
He licks a wide, messy stripe up the back of her neck, tightens the fist in her hair, spreads her wide open.
"God-Ino-look what I've done to you." His eyes roll back into his head. "I've done this to you."
In her ears, his laughter sounds hopeless.
He presses her quivering body into the mattress, not giving an inch. Genma knows better than to give anybody an inch, especially Ino, close as she is to a precipice all by herself.
He forged Ino in the same fire that brought him crashing to his knees, and it's an endless circle, a supernova eating itself right up.
Her mouth makes noises that are part encouragement, part pain, and there are blinding tear tracks flying down Genma's cheeks, wetness salty and sporadic on Ino's back, her hips and thighs. His lips over her skin are harsh and unrelenting and good, so good she trembles.
Ino wants to cry, but this time, there are no tears. This time her throat is raw and catches her moans like a net, strangles her into silence.
This time, Genma doesn't fuck like he's her handler, or her lover, or even her fucks like that dark, agonized part of himself that howls in the deadness of his dreams, that wanted to hold Kakashi's tortured, beautiful face into a fire when he said he was leaving for Snow Country, when he slapped Genma across the face and yelled himself hoarse.
The room is so quiet except for the two of them; their skin slapping, Genma's broken groans and heavy breathing, sobs catching in his throat between his movements.
The outside silence is heavy, milky, pressing in on Genma's ears as if dunked underwater and held there, kicking. It builds a pressure in the base of his skull, waterlogs his vision into cloudy half-shapes and indecipherable shadows.
The sound of Ino moaning, high and keen, filters dimly through Genma's consciousness as though from far away, very far, far away.
X
When it is over, the silence feels broken.
"This won't change my mind, Genma." Ino croaks the words, small and exhausted beneath him, her chest heaving for breath.
Genma is still shuddering, his arms quivering so badly he can't focus for very long, his nose pressed into her wild hair. He rolls so that he is curled around her, feeling the wetness on his cheeks and the back of his neck damp with sweat.
Ino barely moves.
Genma fights to breath normally, wraps himself as close around her as he can possibly manage, legs intertwined and arms tight around her torso. He mouths at her shoulder, the stark and jutting bone there.
She tastes of sweat and sex and bathwater starting to dry out, and he bites a ring of bruised-black imprints above her collarbone, hard enough to almost break skin.
Ino sighs softly, eyes fluttering shut..
Genma tries very hard to not think about the whys, and the reasons.
"...I know it won't."
ooo
End of Part Two
All feedback is greatly appreciated.
The poem "It's so lonely..." can be creidted to Michelle K, a sublime artist on tumblr. (michellekpoems)
Part three is slowly being written, and I've been working a lot on "Brightness..." this past week, so there will probably be an update there soon as well! Hooray for actual progress on my multi-chapters. I'm so bad at keeping to a schedule it's amazing anything ever gets written! :)
Thank you for reading!
-Lute