by Sessha Batto
The interrogator's heart ached at the pain visible in usually shielded eyes. “The rules have changed Takahashi-san. You can have whatever you wish.”
“Neither of us is stupid,” the shadow wolf replied. “So don’t lie to me.”
“I have no desire to lie to you,” the torture master continued. “What is it you think you can’t have?”
“You, to start,” Yoshi said. “But I disgust you. Sometimes you forget, but then you always pull back.”
“No, it's not that…” Makoto trailed off, uncomfortable with delving too deeply into his desires.
“Then what?” came the elite's venomous retort.
“For god's sake, look at me. I’m hideous. You don’t actually want me, you just feel you owe me for saving you from that Yakuza.”
“So you’ve got scars, big deal,” the shadow wolf sneered. “Half the shinobi in the shuudan have scars. I, on the other hand, am a dirty, filthy, disgusting whore and I have been for most of my life. Excuse me if I don’t have a lot of pity for you.”
“You’re not dirty or disgusting and you're certainly not a whore,” Makoto insisted, cupping a pale cheek and forcing the skittish elite to meet his gaze. “You’re a prize, you always have been, anyone with eyes can see that. Why do you think so many people want you?”
“Some prize, booby prize maybe,” Yoshi grumbled as he neatly sidestepped the torture master's question. “If you mean that why do you keep pushing me away?”
“I’m afraid. I haven’t allowed anyone to get this close to me in a very long time,” the interrogator admitted.
The shadow wolf smiled when Makoto's words registered, then he leaned in and sealed their lips together. The kiss was soft, and tentative, giving the interrogator time and space to retreat if he so desired. The next kiss was firmer, decisive, though still chaste. A warmly molded connection that sent sparks surging through the scarred man's chest.
When their lips met for the third time Makoto took control, cradling the finely-boned face as his thumb smoothed over the shadow wolf's throbbing pulse. When the interrogator finally swept his tongue out to taste, Yoshi opened eagerly, heart hammering as he overrode his ingrained response and pressed tight against the larger form.
The heady mix of arousal and fear had the shadow wolf hard as a rock, and he let out a low broken moan when his weeping length brushed Makoto's sizable bulge. The lusty growl that spilled from the interrogator's throat in response sent frissons of excitement rippling through the elite's frame.
Yoshi forced unsteady hands to work on the cloth barrier still separating them, numb fingers somehow forcing slippery buttons through too small holes until he was finally able to push the shirt off broad shoulders. Pale lips nipped and nibbled their way down the interrogator's corded neck to a surprisingly sensitive collar bone. He worried a bronze nipple to hardness, lapping at the perked flesh before blowing gently, and smirked at the echoing groan it produced.
He turned his head, intent on teasing the other nub. In its place he found a wide ridge of scar tissue which he traced with his tongue, lapping and sucking his way down Makoto's heaving chest and across taut abdominal muscles. The elite stiffened when he found himself flipped on his back, tension easing when he recognized the answering lust in the interrogator's eyes.
Makoto kissed a path from the crown of the shadow wolf's head down his face, ending in another deep breathless kiss. “Want you so bad.” The acknowledgment broke the barricade holding the interrogator's lust in check.
Makoto lapped and suckled his way down the lanky body, following satiny ribbons of scar tissue as they wound their way down the silky torso. He stopped to tease the tempting divot of the elite's naval before reaching his prize. The interrogator grasped the bobbing length in a calloused hand before dipping his head to swipe his tongue through the sticky beads of precum dotting the tip, closing his teeth gently around the trembling rings and giving a slight tug.
Yoshi bit back a scream, arching closer to the source of pleasure. The shadow wolf found himself swallowed to the root, wicked tongue swirling around the head, tangling and tugging on the captive rings as the interrogator's teeth scraped over the prominent vein.
“Stop or I’ll come in your mouth,” Yoshi husked, ending in a low, trembling moan.
“I want to taste you,” Makoto growled in response, the vibrations sending the shadow wolf's arousal spiraling even higher. The interrogator growled again as he fondled swollen testicles, blunt nails tickling across the wrinkled sac.
Yoshi struggled against the hands holding him, desperate to thrust up into the hot wet perfection of Makoto's mouth. He started to shake when a finger began to teasingly massage his pucker, pressing and stroking the sensitive nerve endings. When the thick digit finally slipped inside he came with a long, keening wail, hands desperately scrabbling across scarred shoulders in search of purchase.
The interrogator lifted his head, licking his lips as his eyes locked with the shadow wolf's dazed, mismatched pair. “More,” he rumbled, once again kissing the stunned elite breathless. He took advantage of Yoshi's distraction to change their position yet again.
The shadow wolf fisted his hands in rumpled sheets, goose bumps racing up his frame as a taunting tongue traced a wet trail over the arch of his foot and up the tender flesh behind his knee, ending with a sharp nip on his inner thigh. His eyes went wide in shock when Makoto's hot, wet mouth began to tease his puckered entrance while strong hands kneaded creamy cheeks.
The interrogator growled and moaned as he licked and sucked, thrusting the tip of his tongue inside with a swirling motion that had Yoshi scrambling for something to cling to. When he couldn’t stand the temptation any longer Makoto inserted a lubed finger, quickly adding a second and thrusting them deep, stroking over the shadow wolf's prostate to hide the burn as he scissored the digits, stretching the tight ring for a much larger intrusion.
By the time he added a third finger Yoshi was once again rock hard, shaking and moaning as he tried to force the digits deeper. When he pulled his fingers free, the interrogator found himself pushed back as impatient hands yanked at his waistband, sliding pants and boxers down muscular legs.
The shadow wolf let his eyes roam over Makoto's broad form, drinking in his first unhindered view of his new lover. He idly noted the ridges of scar tissue crisscrossing the muscular torso and winding their way down long legs, before zeroing in. That's the one he's worried about. Yoshi's eyes fell on the thick puckered seam where one of the scarred man's testicles had been sheared away, so he dropped to his knees, laving and sucking the wrinkled sac.
The interrogator tried to pull back, but wiry arms wrapped around his hips, pinning him close until he relaxed. He let his legs fall open and rocked his hips into the sensation, groaning loudly when a slick hand wrapped around his straining cock and began to stroke.
“I want to be inside you when I come,” Makoto gasped when he felt his already dripping arousal harden impossibly. “Please, tell me you want this.”
Yoshi positioned himself over the twitching length, only to have the tables turned, yet again, as his back was pressed into the mattress and long legs were coaxed to wrap around Makoto's waist. They both held their breath as the broad head of the torture master's cock slowly parted the tight ring, and the thick shaft inched into the shadow wolf's body.
Once he found himself firmly pressed against smooth cheeks, the interrogator dropped his head to pant, hot breaths tingling against the sensitive skin of the elite's neck. Yoshi's head was reeling, his entire body hypersensitive.
“Please,” he gasped. “Please,” rocking his hips as he tried to tempt the larger man into doing what he wanted.
Makoto took a deep breath, gradually pulling his hips back until only the head remained inside, then snapping them forward with a twist, striking Yoshi's prostate head-on and drawing a warbling shriek from the reserved elite as he arched and writhed, short nails digging into the scarred flesh of the interrogator's back.
“Harde
r.” Makoto was happy to comply, driving into him with long smooth strokes as he slid a hand between them to rub Yoshi's dripping length, tugging lightly at the captive rings as he spread slippery precum over the swollen head.
“So good,” the interrogator groaned as his rhythm began to falter, pistoning into the clutching heat and tipping pale hips to slide even deeper. He twisted his wrist, dragging his nails across the slit of the shadow wolf's throbbing cock as he slammed home, and Yoshi came with a hoarse cry, clinging desperately to Makoto's broad form as he clenched and trembled, hot seed pouring out between them.
One, two, three more thrusts and the interrogator could hold out no longer, succumbing to the overload of sensation and filling Yoshi's ass with his cum before claiming his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. “Thank you,” he muttered. “So sweet, so fucking good.”
“Mmmmmmm,” Yoshi mumbled, eyes already drooping. “Sleep now, talk later.” With that he drew Makoto into the protective circle of his arms, nuzzling his face into a broad shoulder before dropping instantly to sleep. The interrogator couldn't stop grinning as he idly stroked sweat matted strands, his heart beat gradually slowing and his eyes slipping shut.
****
When the pair woke again the sun was high in the sky. “Shit,” Makoto muttered as he leaped out of bed. “Yoshi wake up.”
“Mmmmm, nope, sleeping.” The shadow wolf dragged the covers over his head. “Come back to bed.”
“I need to check in, and the Shuhan wanted to see you today,” the interrogator fretted as he pulled on clothes. “You need to get up and get dressed.”
“Don’t wanna.” Yoshi bunched the covers tightly around himself. “Want you to come back to bed.”
“I would love nothing more,” the interrogator replied, leaning over to nuzzle the pale column of the shadow wolf's neck, “than to stay here with you forever, but duty calls. Look at it this way, the sooner we get this over with the sooner you get your wish.”
“Do you regret it?” Yoshi asked, sitting up and fiddling with the bed covers.
“Last night? Oh no, no, how could I possibly.” Makoto perched on the edge of the bed, pulling the worried man into his arms and cupping the back of his head. He buried a hand in ragged snowy strands, bending to deliver a soft, chaste kiss. “I’m thirty-seven years old, and last night was the first time anyone ever truly desired me. How could I regret that?”
“Because it's me?”
“That makes me doubly lucky,” the interrogator replied with a broad smile, “because I only want you.”
Hooded eyes studied him warily, searching the impassive face for hidden answers. “Fine, I’ll get up.” Yoshi groaned, throwing off the covers and stretching wantonly.
Makoto felt his willpower desert him at the sight of all that alabaster skin laid out like a feast in his bed. “Maybe we could wait…” he hedged.
“Too late,” the shadow wolf decided. “I’m up now. You’ll just have to hurry home when you’ve finished with your duties.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“I think I should at least shower before going to meet our new Shuhan,” Yoshi said. “Just because I am a whore doesn’t mean I need to smell like one.”
“You are not a whore,” Makoto growled. “Don’t speak that way about yourself.”
“For the last three years my only job has been to be a plaything for other men. What term would you prefer?” the shadow wolf retorted. “Look, I’m just being honest. Now that the secret's out I’m sure everyone will be saying the same thing, hopefully not to my face, but I’ll know they know. Does it bother you that everyone will be talking about what I’ve done?”
“They won’t talk about it. Don’t even think about it. If it gets out I’ll take care of it.”
“No, you won’t. I don’t need to be protected. Go to work Makoto, I’ll see you later. I promise,” Yoshi added when he saw a flash of pain in flat black eyes.
The interrogator didn’t reply, instead pulling the shadow wolf in for a deep, wet kiss. “I’ll look forward to it,” he rumbled, running the back of his hand across a perfect cheekbone before stepping back and turning to dress.
Yoshi hummed as he headed into the bathroom, setting the water to comfortably warm before stepping under the spray and quickly scrubbing all traces of the previous night's activities from his skin.
****
Kazuki's apprentice turned spy slid between two stalls in the market, taking in all the conversations around him. He quickly gathered a lot of information about the shinobi who had defied all odds and been chosen as Shuhan. He even saw the man himself, flanked by two guards, of course, slurping down soba at a stand near his office. It was rumored that the smaller of the pair of guards was the Shuhan's lover, but he hadn’t seen anything to confirm it.
Just then he heard, “You have items stored for Takahashi-san? Please deliver them to this address as soon as possible.” Kenta peeked around the gap between the stalls, trying to get a glimpse of who had been speaking. All he managed was the back of an elite striding away as the merchant began loading boxes into his truck
Kenta slid unnoticed to the rear of the van, checking the labels on the boxes to be sure before squeezing into one of the larger cartons. Not long now pet. We’ll be together at last.
****
Yoshi dawdled in the shower until the water ran cold, enjoying the feeling of the warm spray on his sensitive skin. He quickly dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist, wandering back into the bedroom in search of something to wear.
Five minutes later he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going anywhere today. He had no clothes of his own, and Makoto's were too big, so much so that he looked like a child playing dress-up. He found an old pair of shrunken sweat pants that at least stayed up, if only barely, and gave up the search for the time being, heading into the kitchen and turning on the kettle.
He had just poured water over his tea bag when the bell rang. “Who is it?” he called as he headed for the door.
“Delivery for Takahashi.”
He opened the door on a haphazard pile of boxes. “Sign here.” The delivery man shoved a paper in his face.
“Who sent these?” The shadow wolf studied the boxes for any sign of danger as he waited for a response.
The driver studied the papers in his hand. “Do you want them or not?”
“Yes, of course.” Yoshi began shifting boxes inside. Once he had the last one moved he locked the door and started rifling through the contents. Clothes, he thought with glee, yanking out some underwear, a pair of pants, and a shirt before heading to the bedroom to change.
He was halfway there when a voice stopped him in his tracks. “Hello beautiful, happy to see me?”
The shadow wolf whirled, eyes wide, to face the intruder. He stopped in shock when he saw a man with hair a few shades darker than tree bark. “I promised I’d rescue you, don’t you remember?”
“That was a long time ago,” Yoshi said flatly. “I no longer need rescuing.”
“Of course you do. You just don’t realize it.” Kenta moved closer, surreptitiously drawing a syringe and hiding it in his sleeve. “I’ve been searching for my opportunity all this time, now we can be together.” The intruder surged forward, jabbing the needle into the side of Yoshi's neck and holding him until he fell limp.
“Time to take you home. Oh, the fun we’re going to have.”
****
Almost done. Makoto picked the last report out of his in-basket. He was just starting to read when his door banged open and a grim Daisuke marched in. “Where is Takahashi-san?”
“He didn’t come to see you?”
“If he had do you think I’d be standing here?” the Shuhan replied in frustration. “I know he's been through a lot, but this is just insulting.”
“Let me go check on him,” the interrogator temporized. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll go with you.” Daisuke grabbed Makoto's arm as he teleported. They reappeared
in the interrogator's lounge, now filled with tumbled boxes.
“Yoshi.” Makoto headed toward the bedroom. “Where are you?” His worry escalated when he found the forgotten clothes on the floor, morphing to near panic at the sight of the long cold tea. He tore open the bedroom door, rushing across the hall to the bathroom to do the same before slumping against the wall and staring into space. “He's gone.”
“What do you mean he's gone?” the Shuhan demanded. “Gone where?”
“I don’t know. It looks like he left in a hurry, apparently he didn’t even dress.” The interrogator indicated the abandoned items, stomach clenching at the thought of his new lover naked somewhere. He began to search the area, finding a few drops of blood splattered on the largest carton. “There's some blood here, not much. Of course, he can’t put up much of a struggle ki blocked.”
Daisuke summoned a squad of black ops. “Spread out and search for Takahashi Yoshi. He can't harness his ki and may be held against his will.” As soon as the masked nin dispersed the Shuhan turned his attention to Makoto once again. “Who do you think would do this?”
“I don’t know.” The interrogator shook his head. “Any of his so-called ‘clients’. The Yakuza who had him last seemed particularly upset to lose Yoshi so soon after his arrival. I’m sure he's not the only one.”
Daisuke studied his torture master with concern. “We’ll get him back, Sasaki-san. I swear the full resources of the shuudan will be out searching until we find him.”
“I promised him,” Makoto muttered under his breath. “I swore no one would hurt him again. Now he’ll never trust me.” He stood to his full height, towering over the slight young man. “What would you have me do, Shuhan-sama?”
****
Kenta stopped just outside the enclave walls, shifting the bundle in his arms before setting off again. I’ll never make it all the way back like this. I need to find a place where I can send for help. Course set, he sprinted through the trees, speed slowed by the weight of the man he was carrying. “You’re heavy enough. I sure hope you’re worth it.”