Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Though The Devil May Take Me ❯ Chapter 4
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Naitachal666 
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto. It is the property of Masashi Kishimoto.
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Hentai / Romance / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 02.04.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 255 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto. It is the property of Masashi Kishimoto.
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Hentai / Romance / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 02.04.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 255 | Status: Work In Progress
Alright, now we're going to begin seeing the drugs kick in. In the previous chapter, I started the S&M and mutilations.
I hope you all enjoy this one. Again, please tell me how I'm doing. This IS my first Yaoi Fic, after all. Please, no flames. They make me feel stabby.
A toast to all my readers! If you like it, I love you. If you don't, I'm indifferent. I really must praise you all. This wouldn't be here if there wasn't anybody to read it, now would there? And a hail and a toast to: Frosty, Colonel and Beth for saying "You're doing the right thing. Faggot fanfics are what life is about." (They really did say that)
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto(Naruto is property of Masashi Kishimoto), but I have owned several characters in my dreams. Kimimaru is an excellant slave.
Chapter 4
Orochimaru passed an unlit joint and a red Zippo to Gaara. “Light that for me while I get some munchies food.” With that, he pointed himself in the general direction of the kitchen and wove his way towards it.
Gaara held up the well-rolled J and waved it back and forth in front of his face for a few seconds before putting one end in his mouth. He bit it off and spat it at the TV and put the other end in his mouth. He held the flame to the other end for a moment, inhaling slowly. Gaara pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and took another breath, holding it before blowing a perfect ring of smoke.
Gaara really didn’t care what was blaring on the TV. He was more intent upon watching the slowly swirling colors and images on the backs of his eyelids. It was more interesting than watching things with his eyes open, mostly because he hadn’t known the backs of eyelids could even be watched.
“What are you doing?” Orochimaru asked as he walked back into the living room, a punchbowl full to the brim with trail mix in his arms. He settled to the couch and put the big bowl on his lap before further investigating Gaara‘s current occupation. Gaara was leaning back into the couch with the joint in his mouth. His scarlet hair fell back and his dark-rimmed eyes were closed as he traced circles on them with his fingers.
“Are you okay?” Orochimaru asked as he shoveled another handful of pretzel sticks and Chex Mix into his mouth. “And give me that damn thing. It’s my turn.” Following his own instruction, Orochimaru reached over and plucked the J from between Gaara’s lips. “I bet you’re going to have some weird-ass dreams tonight.” he commented as he took a hit.
Gaara finally opened his eyes and realized that there was something to eat in the vicinity. “Yeah.” he agreed, his unkempt hair falling forward as he reached for the bowl and grabbed a handful of its contents. His attention moved to Orochimaru’s face, and he busied his eyes with watching the other eat. There was just something about the way Orochimaru put things in his mouth that made Gaara want to sit on his face. It was an absolutely amazing process to watch. Gaara found himself taking in each detail and mapping it to memory.
First, Gaara thought, his mouth watering. He grabs a handful and brings it up to his face. Then, he sticks his tongue so very far out and puts the pretzel on it. He puts the tip of his tongue through the hole in the pretzel. Then he pulls it into his mouth and licks his lips. I want him to lick my lips. Gaara realized the absurdity of this thought and tried to ignore it. He wasn’t particularly successful, and began to laugh in a crazed, sexual manner.
Meanwhile, Orochimaru was watching Gaara from the corner of his eye. The redhead was watching him hungrily and licking his chops, laughing in a harsh and throaty voice. This was definitely going to be an interesting night. Orochimaru took a huge hit and put a clip on the roach.
“Here, Gaara. Finish that. And give me my damn lighter, you fucking horny-ass bastard.” Orochimaru handed the roach to Gaara, who took it and started to finish it off without giving over the lighter.
Orochimaru looked slyly over at Gaara and then turned his gaze to the Party Mix. An idea was forming in his head. “Hey, Gaara.” he said.
“What?” replied Gaara, running his hand over his face and tossing the remains of the roach in an ashtray.
“This!” Orochimaru threw a handful of pretzels and Chex and cashews at him. The small chunks of food rained salty nuts down upon him and a particularly large almond smacked him in the center of his forehead.
“You! You asshole-fucking bastard! I’ll get you for that!” Gaara jumped up and snatched the entire punchbowl from Orochimaru’s lap and proceeded to dump its contents on him, one heaping handful at a time. During this process, pretzels were flying through the air as Orochimaru fended them off.
“And now that you’re properly salted, its time to cook the main course!” Orochimaru shouted in glee and picked up Gaara around the waist, swinging him in a circle. Gaara didn’t appreciate this, and showed it by kicking Orochimaru in the stomach. Because of Orochimaru, Gaara had lost his high. And he was not happy.
Gaara landed on his feet and charged at Orochimaru. His right fist connected with the other’s chin, knocking him to the floor. Orochimaru fell to the floor and picked himself up on his elbows. He was stunned. He hadn’t really thought Gaara would be angry with him.
Gaara looked down at Orochimaru lying there on the floor with his eyes full of bloody anger. But he wasn’t seeing now. He was seeing the past. What he saw and felt was a time when his abusive father had done the same thing in one of his drunken rages. But back then, Gaara hadn’t been able to fight back. And if he had, his father would have probably killed him.
Gaara was reliving the past. Pain…fear…Gaara’s small form trembled on the floor as his father reached down and touched his thigh. He shrunk further into a little ball, which only seemed to bring his father to a higher state of anger. His father grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. Terror…
‘Don’t you run from me boy. Only cowards run. Are you a coward?’ his father whispered into Gaara’s ear with his breath that reeked of sake. Gaara’s father laid his hand on Gaara’s thin chest and caressed him. Panic…
On the floor…Lying on the floor…
His father grabbed Gaara’s small hand and put it between his legs and told him to touch himself. Horror…dread…
He had to obey, or else his father would hurt him again. Maybe if he did it, his father wouldn’t hurt him this time. Maybe…The remembrance of agony and tortured dreams flitted through his terror-stricken mind. If he did it, maybe he wouldn’t have another set of scars to add to the rest…
Lying on the floor,…looking up at him…
He shivered with loathing and disgust as he did what he was told. He hated it. It was vile. It was a shameful deed. But still he did it. He had no choice. What was worse was holding the tears back. It was so hard to keep the acrid drops from entering his eyes and leaving them. But one got away anyways. It slid down his cheek as his father’s fetid breath feathered on his cheek.
His father saw it. ‘You ungrateful wench! Don’t you know that anything I do is for your own good? Don’t you know that? You treat this as a punishment. You killed your mother, I should kill you for that…’ Pain…denial…regret…self-hate…
‘…But I don’t. I have to live with your pitiful self because she loved you, even though you killed her.’ His father let him drop to the ground, his small body impacting with the stone floor from that height. His eyes brimmed with tears and he wept onto the cold, cruel, unforgiving stone. Just as swiftly as he had dropped him, his father wrapped an arm around his small waist and swung him into the air and around and around…
Hands on his shoulders…shaking him…a small, insistent voice…
He flew into the wall as his father let go, his momentum driving him to land on the hard brick with a sickening crunch and a sharp pain…
Shaking him…that voice…persistently pleading with him. It began to reach through to him…it touched him through his shell.
The real world seemed to overlay the past like a ghost image slowly becoming solid as the other began to fade. Orochimaru gripped his shoulders tightly and was shaking him, repeating over and over again in a voice that was as scared as it was concerned, “Gaara! Gaara! Oh God, oh fuck! Gaara! Talk to me!”
Gaara finally made it back to reality, albeit very shaken. He fell into Orochimaru’s strong arms and just quivered there, unable to do anything but stare into nothing. It had been so long since he had been taken by a flashback, but never had one ever shaken him so deeply. He had almost completely erased that day from his mind, but it had come back to him.
His blood red hair pressed into Orochimaru’s stomach as his legs collapsed beneath him and Orochimaru supported his weight. His body quivered and trembled like a leaf in a hail storm.
Orochimaru cradled Gaara to himself and sank to his knees as he embraced his lover’s trembling form. He whispered soft assurances into Gaara’s ear and stroked his sweaty hair. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but something he did triggered this episode. Nobody knew Gaara’s past except maybe his sister or brother. But Gaara’s reclusive-ness had to have stemmed from some childhood memory he had tried hard to repress.
He lifted his lover and carried him bride-style into the bedroom and laid him down upon the now violet covers. He was so pale against the rich, royal sheets. Gaara’s eyes were still rather vacant and his breath came shallow and tremulous.
“Gaara, please come back to me. Please.” Orochimaru mouthed. He turned Gaara’s head towards him and gazed deeply into those wide, green eyes. He scanned those eyes for any hint of the real Gaara and begged them to awake for him.
Slowly, ever so horribly slowly, reason came back to Gaara’s eyes. He clutched Orochimaru’s hands and squinched his face up in an attempt to hold back emotion.
He’s so hurt, so fucked up inside. He never let it out and it just built up inside of him, waiting to explode. Or implode. My poor darling, he’s had such a hard time, and he’s tried to keep it inside for so long, Orochimaru exuded to himself.
“Let it out. Just let it all out.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Gaara. Gaara hesitated for a moment, but Orochimaru assured him again, and he buried his face into Orochimaru’s shoulder and opened the flood gates. He cried for all the wrongs done to an innocent child, he wept for all the names and cruel looks, he grieved for his mother, and even his father. He mourned the inability that his siblings had had to help him, or even themselves. He released all the tears that had gathered in his body, that he had collected for years and held against the world in a bitter cesspool.
Gaara had cried into Orochimaru’s now tearstained kimono for the better part of an hour. But now his tears were dried up and he couldn’t cry anymore. He looked up and Orochimaru looked down at him with a wistful expression. Gaara reached up a hand and rubbed a bit at his red eyes.
“You know, that was a long time in coming.” Orochimaru commented without any hint of sarcasm.
“Kind of…” replied Gaara, which was annoyingly vague.
“Kind of…” prompted Orochimaru softly.
Gaara decided to start at the beginning. “When I was born, I killed my mother…”
Thanks for reading, I'm getting a kick out of the hungry stares my friends keep giving my writing journal, lol. Please leave me a review if you liked my story.
I hope you all enjoy this one. Again, please tell me how I'm doing. This IS my first Yaoi Fic, after all. Please, no flames. They make me feel stabby.
A toast to all my readers! If you like it, I love you. If you don't, I'm indifferent. I really must praise you all. This wouldn't be here if there wasn't anybody to read it, now would there? And a hail and a toast to: Frosty, Colonel and Beth for saying "You're doing the right thing. Faggot fanfics are what life is about." (They really did say that)
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto(Naruto is property of Masashi Kishimoto), but I have owned several characters in my dreams. Kimimaru is an excellant slave.
Chapter 4
Orochimaru passed an unlit joint and a red Zippo to Gaara. “Light that for me while I get some munchies food.” With that, he pointed himself in the general direction of the kitchen and wove his way towards it.
Gaara held up the well-rolled J and waved it back and forth in front of his face for a few seconds before putting one end in his mouth. He bit it off and spat it at the TV and put the other end in his mouth. He held the flame to the other end for a moment, inhaling slowly. Gaara pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and took another breath, holding it before blowing a perfect ring of smoke.
Gaara really didn’t care what was blaring on the TV. He was more intent upon watching the slowly swirling colors and images on the backs of his eyelids. It was more interesting than watching things with his eyes open, mostly because he hadn’t known the backs of eyelids could even be watched.
“What are you doing?” Orochimaru asked as he walked back into the living room, a punchbowl full to the brim with trail mix in his arms. He settled to the couch and put the big bowl on his lap before further investigating Gaara‘s current occupation. Gaara was leaning back into the couch with the joint in his mouth. His scarlet hair fell back and his dark-rimmed eyes were closed as he traced circles on them with his fingers.
“Are you okay?” Orochimaru asked as he shoveled another handful of pretzel sticks and Chex Mix into his mouth. “And give me that damn thing. It’s my turn.” Following his own instruction, Orochimaru reached over and plucked the J from between Gaara’s lips. “I bet you’re going to have some weird-ass dreams tonight.” he commented as he took a hit.
Gaara finally opened his eyes and realized that there was something to eat in the vicinity. “Yeah.” he agreed, his unkempt hair falling forward as he reached for the bowl and grabbed a handful of its contents. His attention moved to Orochimaru’s face, and he busied his eyes with watching the other eat. There was just something about the way Orochimaru put things in his mouth that made Gaara want to sit on his face. It was an absolutely amazing process to watch. Gaara found himself taking in each detail and mapping it to memory.
First, Gaara thought, his mouth watering. He grabs a handful and brings it up to his face. Then, he sticks his tongue so very far out and puts the pretzel on it. He puts the tip of his tongue through the hole in the pretzel. Then he pulls it into his mouth and licks his lips. I want him to lick my lips. Gaara realized the absurdity of this thought and tried to ignore it. He wasn’t particularly successful, and began to laugh in a crazed, sexual manner.
Meanwhile, Orochimaru was watching Gaara from the corner of his eye. The redhead was watching him hungrily and licking his chops, laughing in a harsh and throaty voice. This was definitely going to be an interesting night. Orochimaru took a huge hit and put a clip on the roach.
“Here, Gaara. Finish that. And give me my damn lighter, you fucking horny-ass bastard.” Orochimaru handed the roach to Gaara, who took it and started to finish it off without giving over the lighter.
Orochimaru looked slyly over at Gaara and then turned his gaze to the Party Mix. An idea was forming in his head. “Hey, Gaara.” he said.
“What?” replied Gaara, running his hand over his face and tossing the remains of the roach in an ashtray.
“This!” Orochimaru threw a handful of pretzels and Chex and cashews at him. The small chunks of food rained salty nuts down upon him and a particularly large almond smacked him in the center of his forehead.
“You! You asshole-fucking bastard! I’ll get you for that!” Gaara jumped up and snatched the entire punchbowl from Orochimaru’s lap and proceeded to dump its contents on him, one heaping handful at a time. During this process, pretzels were flying through the air as Orochimaru fended them off.
“And now that you’re properly salted, its time to cook the main course!” Orochimaru shouted in glee and picked up Gaara around the waist, swinging him in a circle. Gaara didn’t appreciate this, and showed it by kicking Orochimaru in the stomach. Because of Orochimaru, Gaara had lost his high. And he was not happy.
Gaara landed on his feet and charged at Orochimaru. His right fist connected with the other’s chin, knocking him to the floor. Orochimaru fell to the floor and picked himself up on his elbows. He was stunned. He hadn’t really thought Gaara would be angry with him.
Gaara looked down at Orochimaru lying there on the floor with his eyes full of bloody anger. But he wasn’t seeing now. He was seeing the past. What he saw and felt was a time when his abusive father had done the same thing in one of his drunken rages. But back then, Gaara hadn’t been able to fight back. And if he had, his father would have probably killed him.
Gaara was reliving the past. Pain…fear…Gaara’s small form trembled on the floor as his father reached down and touched his thigh. He shrunk further into a little ball, which only seemed to bring his father to a higher state of anger. His father grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. Terror…
‘Don’t you run from me boy. Only cowards run. Are you a coward?’ his father whispered into Gaara’s ear with his breath that reeked of sake. Gaara’s father laid his hand on Gaara’s thin chest and caressed him. Panic…
On the floor…Lying on the floor…
His father grabbed Gaara’s small hand and put it between his legs and told him to touch himself. Horror…dread…
He had to obey, or else his father would hurt him again. Maybe if he did it, his father wouldn’t hurt him this time. Maybe…The remembrance of agony and tortured dreams flitted through his terror-stricken mind. If he did it, maybe he wouldn’t have another set of scars to add to the rest…
Lying on the floor,…looking up at him…
He shivered with loathing and disgust as he did what he was told. He hated it. It was vile. It was a shameful deed. But still he did it. He had no choice. What was worse was holding the tears back. It was so hard to keep the acrid drops from entering his eyes and leaving them. But one got away anyways. It slid down his cheek as his father’s fetid breath feathered on his cheek.
His father saw it. ‘You ungrateful wench! Don’t you know that anything I do is for your own good? Don’t you know that? You treat this as a punishment. You killed your mother, I should kill you for that…’ Pain…denial…regret…self-hate…
‘…But I don’t. I have to live with your pitiful self because she loved you, even though you killed her.’ His father let him drop to the ground, his small body impacting with the stone floor from that height. His eyes brimmed with tears and he wept onto the cold, cruel, unforgiving stone. Just as swiftly as he had dropped him, his father wrapped an arm around his small waist and swung him into the air and around and around…
Hands on his shoulders…shaking him…a small, insistent voice…
He flew into the wall as his father let go, his momentum driving him to land on the hard brick with a sickening crunch and a sharp pain…
Shaking him…that voice…persistently pleading with him. It began to reach through to him…it touched him through his shell.
The real world seemed to overlay the past like a ghost image slowly becoming solid as the other began to fade. Orochimaru gripped his shoulders tightly and was shaking him, repeating over and over again in a voice that was as scared as it was concerned, “Gaara! Gaara! Oh God, oh fuck! Gaara! Talk to me!”
Gaara finally made it back to reality, albeit very shaken. He fell into Orochimaru’s strong arms and just quivered there, unable to do anything but stare into nothing. It had been so long since he had been taken by a flashback, but never had one ever shaken him so deeply. He had almost completely erased that day from his mind, but it had come back to him.
His blood red hair pressed into Orochimaru’s stomach as his legs collapsed beneath him and Orochimaru supported his weight. His body quivered and trembled like a leaf in a hail storm.
Orochimaru cradled Gaara to himself and sank to his knees as he embraced his lover’s trembling form. He whispered soft assurances into Gaara’s ear and stroked his sweaty hair. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but something he did triggered this episode. Nobody knew Gaara’s past except maybe his sister or brother. But Gaara’s reclusive-ness had to have stemmed from some childhood memory he had tried hard to repress.
He lifted his lover and carried him bride-style into the bedroom and laid him down upon the now violet covers. He was so pale against the rich, royal sheets. Gaara’s eyes were still rather vacant and his breath came shallow and tremulous.
“Gaara, please come back to me. Please.” Orochimaru mouthed. He turned Gaara’s head towards him and gazed deeply into those wide, green eyes. He scanned those eyes for any hint of the real Gaara and begged them to awake for him.
Slowly, ever so horribly slowly, reason came back to Gaara’s eyes. He clutched Orochimaru’s hands and squinched his face up in an attempt to hold back emotion.
He’s so hurt, so fucked up inside. He never let it out and it just built up inside of him, waiting to explode. Or implode. My poor darling, he’s had such a hard time, and he’s tried to keep it inside for so long, Orochimaru exuded to himself.
“Let it out. Just let it all out.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Gaara. Gaara hesitated for a moment, but Orochimaru assured him again, and he buried his face into Orochimaru’s shoulder and opened the flood gates. He cried for all the wrongs done to an innocent child, he wept for all the names and cruel looks, he grieved for his mother, and even his father. He mourned the inability that his siblings had had to help him, or even themselves. He released all the tears that had gathered in his body, that he had collected for years and held against the world in a bitter cesspool.
Gaara had cried into Orochimaru’s now tearstained kimono for the better part of an hour. But now his tears were dried up and he couldn’t cry anymore. He looked up and Orochimaru looked down at him with a wistful expression. Gaara reached up a hand and rubbed a bit at his red eyes.
“You know, that was a long time in coming.” Orochimaru commented without any hint of sarcasm.
“Kind of…” replied Gaara, which was annoyingly vague.
“Kind of…” prompted Orochimaru softly.
Gaara decided to start at the beginning. “When I was born, I killed my mother…”
Thanks for reading, I'm getting a kick out of the hungry stares my friends keep giving my writing journal, lol. Please leave me a review if you liked my story.