The Chosen: Chapter 4
I think this is the fourth chapter, but anyway, here is the next installment.
Title:The Chosen Ch4: Hanging by a thread
Pairing: Kakuzu x Hidan
Rating: R for violence and gore (gross stuff)
Summary: This chapter of the saga looks into the real beginnings of their partnership
Warning: Blood, some gore, some sexy time, some profanity
Link to Ch 1
Link to Ch 2
Link to Ch 3
Hidan pursues everything with reckless abandon; in light of his immortality, well, why the fuck not? What’s the worst that could happen? He can’t be killed, and being injured just fuels his aggression- the sting of battle contrasting with the sweetness of winning. He attacks life, frustrated at everything in the corporeal world when his greatest desire is to be with his God. The only rule is that of Jashin, and that time changed everything. Objects and villages and people- they all change over time; everything is transient, catching his attention and interest briefly as they pass by while his life goes on and on. But now, his attention is on Kakuzu.
Grim and stoic with an imposing stature, a mystery of who he really is behind that mask. Hidan wants to rip it off and claw the shit out of it, peel it back and see what it hides if only for the childish reason that he is curious.
Initially, after the letdown of finding such an obsessive spiteful character, being an insufferable asshole to his partner is just a manifestation of his discontent. Then, after discovering the violent rage of Kakuzu’s temper, it became a game. Persistently wearing him down, building up the anger and annoyance with wicked delight, waiting with eagerness for the moment when he finally loses his cool. Like a kid turning the crank of a jack-in-the-box waiting for the moment when the lid flies off and the jack springs out.
So, for the life of him, Hidan can’t figure out when it stopped being a game and started to be something else entirely.
Kakuzu is fascinating.
Hidan hadn’t thought of Kakuzu that way before. But now that the idea has implanted in his mind he can’t ignore it.
That afternoon they happen across the bounty, whose corpse is escorted by hunter nin. The fight is quick and brutal, Hidan nearly severs his hand catching the blade of a sword, but it is totally worth it to see the surprised look in the guy’s eyes when he continues the arc of his scythe anyway, right before he cuts off his head.
Kakuzu is all business; he slays the two other hunters with efficiency and economy of motion. It really is quite brutally elegant to see him fight, like a choreography really, how he seems to have it all planned out and just flows through the movements like a natural born killer. Hidan doesn’t bother making a sacrifice of these buzzards, they’re like the carrion crows of the villages, picking up the rotten ones that have strayed from home. Kakuzu collects the bounty, his prize, and with purposeful strides approaches him.
“Give me your hand,” Kakuzu says, extending his own.
Hidan grins with teeth as he watches the gory sight of his own hand barely held together twisting grotesquely when he holds it out. Kakuzu doesn’t frown in disgust or disapproval as he takes hold of the pale blood-drenched wrist and begins his work. Threads slide forward, winding over Hidan’s fingers as they bend his hand back into place. The novelty of this has been dulled by routine, but this time it seems to carve itself out from all the other times and stand out in vivid detail.
Now, it’s as if he’s discovering all over again how it feels to be sewn together by Kakuzu. The whisper of thread as it makes its way between them, the grip of Kakuzu’s hand around his, the peculiar feeling of things moving through his skin. He doesn’t even notice the sting of the punctures as he watches the black tendril sink into his flesh. It’s over abruptly; the thread separates from Kakuzu’s body, and he releases his steady grip, leaving Hidan with a handful of stitches.
Somewhere, in all the blood that is already on Kakuzu’s hands, there is Hidan’s blood. His blood on Kakuzu’s hands, and Kakuzu’s thread in his own. And suddenly he notices how intimate it is; having the stitches in his own body.
The threads stand out in sharp contrast against his own paleness. He finds himself staring at them every so often. Noticing how the fabric of his cloak feels if he lets the swing of his arm bring his palm into contact and brush against the edges. If he curls his hand into a loose fist, he can touch the stitches with the pads of his fingers.
It’s kind of symbolic that the real start of their partnership begins with the union of flesh and treads; it’s quite appropriate, really. For whatever reason this time when Hidan is joined together again by Kakuzu’s threads it strikes him that it isn’t just a gesture. Maybe he’s just hard headed and never realized before just what was intended in these acts, and even now he might not be able to understand the nuances of his partner, but it’s like a revelation. The change in perspective is sudden and bewildering; it isn’t ‘I’ or ‘me’ anymore but ‘us’ and ‘we’. In just that instant it changes from Hidan and Kakuzu, two missing nin, into a team.
That night he finds himself with the insistent desire to touch them. To feel them not just under his hands, under his skin, but on his body.
He doesn’t know quite what to expect, but the feel of the threads is torturous bliss. He’s never thought to use anything other than his own hands, which have always been good enough, and very good. The foreign ridges sliding over him is delicious. Before long he’s thrusting into his palm. It almost feels like the threads are tightening now, making his palm throb in sync with his cock.
“Hidan, quit….”
Whatever it was Kakuzu thought he was doing, it clearly isn’t what he finds, if the scandalized look on what is visible of his face is any indication.
The abruptness of his appearance, his body towering over where Hidan is reclined, the striking realization that Kakuzu can somehow still feel his threads, and Hidan is cumming with a sudden gasp. Abs contracting, he spurts thick torrents across his abdomen, expression no doubt mirroring Kakuzu’s surprise. Hidan can’t possibly think now, can’t put together thoughts of what Kakuzu might be thinking when all he can do is feel how fucking much he wants the hands on his body to be Kakuzu’s, and the ravenous urge to run his tongue across the threads and taste them.
Instead, he arms himself with words.
“Didn’t know you were a voyeur, you dirty old man,” quickly turning surprise into an impish smirk Hidan tries to appear more casual.
“Didn’t know you were an exhibitionist,” Kakuzu parries back.
To add insult to injury, Hidan, despite his normal response to verbal sparring with lengthy profanity instead blushes. Hopefully, the night is adequately dark to hide it, but no; Kakuzu’s preternatural eyes can definitely see it, if the quirk of his eyebrow is any indication.
“Fucking pervert, I’m not the one snooping around!”
“No, you’re the one with his hand wrapped around his dick.”
The twitch of Hidan’s hips as they canted upwards might have gone unnoticed, except for the soft ‘unnh’ that accompanies it. And there’s really no saving face after that.
This really surprises Kakuzu: to discover he is wanted like that. Things have now been twisted onto a whole new level...
It seems trivial, to take part in this type of madness. But Hidan is too proud and Kakuzu too ruthless to back down, at least with the faces they are putting on for each other, each hiding behind their own walls and masks.
It’s too late to turn back the hands of time now, they’ve both plunged into this whirlpool together.
~oh yes, I did leave you all hanging (by a thread hur hur hur) Maybe if I'm feeling really productive I'll write in the smex scene that I want to right at the end. We'll see.
BTW: I'm interested to hear how other people's writing process goes. I don't set out a special time to write, although I heard that is a good thing to try- like, set aside 30 min to write and just DO it, don't worry about grammar or content or making sentence structure perfect, just let yourself do it and respect what you did and accept it. If it is good, you work with it and if it isn't so good, well, that's okay too. I usually get struck with an idea or scene and then write the good stuff out and then struggle to fit a story around that scene into a cohesive piece. *sigh* So, any info on how you write?
Title:The Chosen Ch4: Hanging by a thread
Pairing: Kakuzu x Hidan
Rating: R for violence and gore (gross stuff)
Summary: This chapter of the saga looks into the real beginnings of their partnership
Warning: Blood, some gore, some sexy time, some profanity
Link to Ch 1
Link to Ch 2
Link to Ch 3
Hidan pursues everything with reckless abandon; in light of his immortality, well, why the fuck not? What’s the worst that could happen? He can’t be killed, and being injured just fuels his aggression- the sting of battle contrasting with the sweetness of winning. He attacks life, frustrated at everything in the corporeal world when his greatest desire is to be with his God. The only rule is that of Jashin, and that time changed everything. Objects and villages and people- they all change over time; everything is transient, catching his attention and interest briefly as they pass by while his life goes on and on. But now, his attention is on Kakuzu.
Grim and stoic with an imposing stature, a mystery of who he really is behind that mask. Hidan wants to rip it off and claw the shit out of it, peel it back and see what it hides if only for the childish reason that he is curious.
Initially, after the letdown of finding such an obsessive spiteful character, being an insufferable asshole to his partner is just a manifestation of his discontent. Then, after discovering the violent rage of Kakuzu’s temper, it became a game. Persistently wearing him down, building up the anger and annoyance with wicked delight, waiting with eagerness for the moment when he finally loses his cool. Like a kid turning the crank of a jack-in-the-box waiting for the moment when the lid flies off and the jack springs out.
So, for the life of him, Hidan can’t figure out when it stopped being a game and started to be something else entirely.
Kakuzu is fascinating.
Hidan hadn’t thought of Kakuzu that way before. But now that the idea has implanted in his mind he can’t ignore it.
That afternoon they happen across the bounty, whose corpse is escorted by hunter nin. The fight is quick and brutal, Hidan nearly severs his hand catching the blade of a sword, but it is totally worth it to see the surprised look in the guy’s eyes when he continues the arc of his scythe anyway, right before he cuts off his head.
Kakuzu is all business; he slays the two other hunters with efficiency and economy of motion. It really is quite brutally elegant to see him fight, like a choreography really, how he seems to have it all planned out and just flows through the movements like a natural born killer. Hidan doesn’t bother making a sacrifice of these buzzards, they’re like the carrion crows of the villages, picking up the rotten ones that have strayed from home. Kakuzu collects the bounty, his prize, and with purposeful strides approaches him.
“Give me your hand,” Kakuzu says, extending his own.
Hidan grins with teeth as he watches the gory sight of his own hand barely held together twisting grotesquely when he holds it out. Kakuzu doesn’t frown in disgust or disapproval as he takes hold of the pale blood-drenched wrist and begins his work. Threads slide forward, winding over Hidan’s fingers as they bend his hand back into place. The novelty of this has been dulled by routine, but this time it seems to carve itself out from all the other times and stand out in vivid detail.
Now, it’s as if he’s discovering all over again how it feels to be sewn together by Kakuzu. The whisper of thread as it makes its way between them, the grip of Kakuzu’s hand around his, the peculiar feeling of things moving through his skin. He doesn’t even notice the sting of the punctures as he watches the black tendril sink into his flesh. It’s over abruptly; the thread separates from Kakuzu’s body, and he releases his steady grip, leaving Hidan with a handful of stitches.
Somewhere, in all the blood that is already on Kakuzu’s hands, there is Hidan’s blood. His blood on Kakuzu’s hands, and Kakuzu’s thread in his own. And suddenly he notices how intimate it is; having the stitches in his own body.
The threads stand out in sharp contrast against his own paleness. He finds himself staring at them every so often. Noticing how the fabric of his cloak feels if he lets the swing of his arm bring his palm into contact and brush against the edges. If he curls his hand into a loose fist, he can touch the stitches with the pads of his fingers.
It’s kind of symbolic that the real start of their partnership begins with the union of flesh and treads; it’s quite appropriate, really. For whatever reason this time when Hidan is joined together again by Kakuzu’s threads it strikes him that it isn’t just a gesture. Maybe he’s just hard headed and never realized before just what was intended in these acts, and even now he might not be able to understand the nuances of his partner, but it’s like a revelation. The change in perspective is sudden and bewildering; it isn’t ‘I’ or ‘me’ anymore but ‘us’ and ‘we’. In just that instant it changes from Hidan and Kakuzu, two missing nin, into a team.
That night he finds himself with the insistent desire to touch them. To feel them not just under his hands, under his skin, but on his body.
He doesn’t know quite what to expect, but the feel of the threads is torturous bliss. He’s never thought to use anything other than his own hands, which have always been good enough, and very good. The foreign ridges sliding over him is delicious. Before long he’s thrusting into his palm. It almost feels like the threads are tightening now, making his palm throb in sync with his cock.
“Hidan, quit….”
Whatever it was Kakuzu thought he was doing, it clearly isn’t what he finds, if the scandalized look on what is visible of his face is any indication.
The abruptness of his appearance, his body towering over where Hidan is reclined, the striking realization that Kakuzu can somehow still feel his threads, and Hidan is cumming with a sudden gasp. Abs contracting, he spurts thick torrents across his abdomen, expression no doubt mirroring Kakuzu’s surprise. Hidan can’t possibly think now, can’t put together thoughts of what Kakuzu might be thinking when all he can do is feel how fucking much he wants the hands on his body to be Kakuzu’s, and the ravenous urge to run his tongue across the threads and taste them.
Instead, he arms himself with words.
“Didn’t know you were a voyeur, you dirty old man,” quickly turning surprise into an impish smirk Hidan tries to appear more casual.
“Didn’t know you were an exhibitionist,” Kakuzu parries back.
To add insult to injury, Hidan, despite his normal response to verbal sparring with lengthy profanity instead blushes. Hopefully, the night is adequately dark to hide it, but no; Kakuzu’s preternatural eyes can definitely see it, if the quirk of his eyebrow is any indication.
“Fucking pervert, I’m not the one snooping around!”
“No, you’re the one with his hand wrapped around his dick.”
The twitch of Hidan’s hips as they canted upwards might have gone unnoticed, except for the soft ‘unnh’ that accompanies it. And there’s really no saving face after that.
This really surprises Kakuzu: to discover he is wanted like that. Things have now been twisted onto a whole new level...
It seems trivial, to take part in this type of madness. But Hidan is too proud and Kakuzu too ruthless to back down, at least with the faces they are putting on for each other, each hiding behind their own walls and masks.
It’s too late to turn back the hands of time now, they’ve both plunged into this whirlpool together.
~oh yes, I did leave you all hanging (by a thread hur hur hur) Maybe if I'm feeling really productive I'll write in the smex scene that I want to right at the end. We'll see.
BTW: I'm interested to hear how other people's writing process goes. I don't set out a special time to write, although I heard that is a good thing to try- like, set aside 30 min to write and just DO it, don't worry about grammar or content or making sentence structure perfect, just let yourself do it and respect what you did and accept it. If it is good, you work with it and if it isn't so good, well, that's okay too. I usually get struck with an idea or scene and then write the good stuff out and then struggle to fit a story around that scene into a cohesive piece. *sigh* So, any info on how you write?