Ite Number One and Two

by Persepone

A series of four coeds by myself and EternalThree. The fanmade couples we considered most disturbing, but using nonwarped cannon characters. The first is Uchihacest, then in later chaps NaruJira, Sandcest, LeeGai. Romance here dosn't mean love. Enjoy.

2. Ite Number Two

Ite. Number Two

Disclaimer: Heh – still don't own anyone

Naruto cluthced the grass in front of him so hard his knuckles went white, in a senseless attempt to block out everything else. Nausea clawed its way up his spine, draining the clolour from his cheeks, as a thick, repulsive heat coursed through his body, making him shudder uncontrollably.

The big hands, hands whose touch he had come to loathe, hands now warm and sticky with the sweat of two bodies, HIS hands, let go of his hips. Pressure disappeared. Pain took its place.

Something wanted to leave his body, through his mouth if possible, and he felt like he would explode if he if he didn't let it. Loudly, and with a terrible animal sob, he threw up, covering the grass, his own hands; everything he had reduced his world to, in a horrid bland colour.

Somewhere behind him, there was the sound of rustling fabric, as the sage did up his pants, followed, after the slightest hesitation, by a disgusted snort: "Damn it, kid – pull yourself together! You are old enough to know that everything in the world comes at a price…"

Naruto heard his feet move through the grass, and knew that he was standing right next to him. He so wanted to kick, scream, hurt, KILL – but a terrible darkness in him, a new darkness that scared even Kyubi, kept him rooted to the spot, ever clutching the sad tufts before him. He grimaced as a hand landed heavily on his head, ruffling his sticky, sweat-soaked hair; "Chin up kid; now you can summon a frog – wasn't that worth it?!"

Naruto reamined there, squatting in the grass, long time after his sometime teacher had gone. Very slowly, whimpering since they hurt from the long strain, he streached out his fingers, letting go of the filthy greenery.

The moment he did so he knew that he shouldn't have; the world spun violently, faster and faster, and smashed itself into whirling pieces of memeories, obstinately pressing themselves upon him, and fragments of darkness which faded into nothing when he sought the comfort their blank surfaces promised. And all the while, rising and falling on the wind of his own nameless terror, a bloodcurdling howling filled his ears like the pain of a thousand dark nights.

It wasn't until his throat went sore he realized it was the sound of his own screams.