They called it the Round Table, and the Snake was their king. It was nothing like the fable of long ago; there were ten, and their tithe to their king was in blood and dark deeds instead of in treasure, crusades, and the Holy Grail. Twice a year they would meet and they would bring their spoils of war with them.
The world was at war, and the King ruled atop a pile of skulls.
At these parties, the Ten would discuss business for the next period of time before they were to meet once again. Plans were laid; missions assigned; tithes paid in the bodies or weapons of enemies, or in supple trained flesh.
Each one of the Ten, plus the King, brought their entire retinues with them. Being warlords, they required not only guards for the journey there but a luggage train for themselves, their attendants, and whatever pretties they brought with them. These pretties were not mere empty-headed arm candy, though they often appeared to be empty-headed—no, these beautiful men and women were the deadliest people in the room. They were trained to be beautiful and deadly from the moment they were discovered—sometimes at birth, at varying stages of geninhood, or in special cases when they were captured from other villages. Most of the Ten only had one such bodyguard-cum-bedmate, and until recently (so it was rumored) their leader had only had one as well.
The first, and to the best confirmed knowledge of any of the Ten the only charge that their leader had was a boy known amongst the others of his position as the Demon. He was so named for his eyes that were said to glow red when he sensed danger; he had deadly precision on every attack, and a beauty unrivaled by any in the land. They had seen him first three years ago, walking in at his master’s side with his head held high and his back straight, proud just like every member of his clan. His skin was of the finest, most delicate shade of peachy-pink any had ever seen, and his hair shone a blue-black in the light. They had only seen his eyes the color of blue steel that night, but the next night his master was attacked as his party left a tea house, and all present had seen the Demon in action. Pulling innumerable kunai from his sleeves and obi, the boy had formed a whirling vortex of protection around his master, who had stood unmoving in the middle. All had seen the telltale Sharingan eye.
When the attack was over and those responsible had been dragged out with kunais in their chests, the Snake had smiled and lavished attention on his guard. Like the doll the Demon really was, he arched into the touches without hesitation, purring like a cat. A lewd smirk curling across his lips, their King had taken the boy to his chambers directly and they had not been seen again that night. And now rumor held that there was another.
“If that’s all for tonight, let us adjourn, gentlemen.” The Snake’s voice was sibilant and commanding, and they all packed up their scrolls and waited until their leader had stood and made his way to the door before doing the same.
The Snake strode out of the conference room into the larger, cushion-filled antechamber where the attendants of the Ten and the King waited. Off to one side, there was a tall space where anyone who had a mind could display their talents at weaponry. Right now, however, all the beautiful men and women were lounging on pillows and soft silks, waiting for their masters. There were twelve.
Two rose immediately and made their way over to the Snake. One the Demon, clad in a black with the insignia of his master in red on his back. The kimono was artfully draped around his shoulders so all could see the cursed mark on the boy’s shoulder, but closed as any other kimono would in the front. Obviously custom-tailored for the effect, and the boy probably had a roomful of such kimonos for any and every occasion, enough so that he could go through a whole season without wearing the same outfit twice.
The second, however, was who the attention was on, and those among the Ten who liked boys sighed in envy, for this ethereal beauty had eyes for only their leader. Hair a rich, glossy dark brown, tied back out of his face with a silver clasp and falling free to his waist. Strong in build, less delicate-looking than the Demon but still inordinately beautiful; and as it had been on the night the Demon had been unleashed at the teahouse, attention was on his eyes. Iris and pupil were both white as moonbeams on snow, and the Caged Bird on his brow made it clear that he was (or used to be) a member of the Hyuuga clan’s branch house. He wore a kimono embroidered in silver, the depiction of a crane leaping into flight flowing over the back and train.
“A ghost,” they whispered, the youth’s pallor inspiring the name. “The Demon and the Ghost.”
The two boys came to the outstretched arms of their master to curl into the embrace like oversized lapdogs, nuzzling against him, touching and caressing. It was their duty to protect him, and their need to be near him.
“An Uchiha and now a Hyuuga, and the brightest scions of both clans? Isn’t that a little greedy, Orochimaru-sama?” one of the Ten asked.
Golden-green eyes casually met the speaker’s, hands still moving over and tending to his lovelies while their hands wandered over him and each other. “Is it any less than I deserve?” he retorted, and of course the Ten agreed that it was right and just that Orochimaru have the prettiest and the best and the most skilled. Brilliance could not go unrewarded.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
In the candlelight, they were all the same shade of bronze. Even Orochimaru, as white as scroll-paper, became a dusky gold.
He had sent his boys ahead to the room while chatting with two of the Ten. They had commented on the unhidden lust sparking not only between the prodigies and their master, but also between each other. They wondered if allowing that was a wise thing. Orochimaru had laughed and watched as Sasuke had put a protective hand on the small of Neji’s back, and how Neji had pressed closer to the closest thing to a brother he would ever have here. Had any other man or woman of the Ten been in possession of two, they surely would never have tolerated the things they got for their pleasure playing with others. But Orochimaru was a man of vision, and he allowed such dalliances because it allowed him to walk in on his pets already half-naked and ready on his big bed, caught in each other’s mouths and limbs.
He watched as they played together, their bodies covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Neji’s hair was splayed out over the white sheets and turned a honey gold where it caught the light. The Hyuuga had been perfectly trained, too—the sounds he made with every deep thrust from Sasuke were absolutely delicious, and shot straight from Orochimaru’s ears to his cock. The Snake felt that with this beauty, his collection was quite complete.
Sasuke reached down between them to find his master’s hand already curled around Neji’s neglected erection. The elder ninja pressed close to them both, the hand on Neji’s cock pumping in time with Sasuke’s energetic thrusts, and the other reaching for the bottle of lubricant the boys had already started on.
Neji’s back arched, and he moaned; Sasuke changed position so he stroked over that spot inside Neji, smirking when the Hyuuga prodigy’s eyes and mouth flew open and his legs tightened around Sasuke’s waist, trying to draw him in deeper. For all that Neji had become the perfect bodyguard and the perfect bedmate, he was still virgin-tight and just as experienced as a virgin—which while it meant complete heaven for Orochimaru’s cock, also meant that Neji didn’t last too long. Already the sannin’s hand was covered with sticky precum, and he knew he hadn’t been talking to the idiots from Mist and Falls that long. Neji wouldn’t come until Orochimaru let him, anyway.
Wrapping a hand around the base of Neji’s cock, he tightened his grip almost painfully. Neji gasped, breathing hard, and Sasuke slowed the pace of his thrusts just slightly.
“Master—“
“Orochimaru-sama—“
Two hands reached out to him and he let them caress a moment before looking pointedly at Sasuke. “Go, boy.” He lowered his head to Neji’s chest and sucked one pink nipple into his mouth, savoring the taste of sweat and lust on his tongue.
The Demon renewed his motion and Orochimaru kept his fingers tight around his lover’s penis, waiting and smirking until Neji was screaming for completion, eyes barely able to open long enough to send helpless looks to the two men beside and inside him. For the Hyuuga—abandoned in Sound by the other members of his ANBU squad, left for dead, and tormented endlessly by both Sasuke and Orochimaru—the final break had been a blessing, and now these times where he was made to feel wanted, desired, craved were like a religious experience. So it was for any who dared love the snake.
He had the prettiest sex flush, the Snake thought. It was like a blush, the same rosy shade the Hyuuga turned whenever presented with some gift from his master or another of the Ten hoping to curry his favors, but this blush went from the roots of his hair down his lovely, shapely neck to his chest. Capturing Neji’s lips in a bruising kiss, Orochimaru released the pressure on his cock and a minute later was rewarded with his pet’s lustful screams. The Hyuuga’s hand flew out, found Orochimaru’s waiting for him and gripped it tightly as waves of pleasure crashed over him, his issue bursting from him like a string of flawless pearls.
How the mighty have fallen, he thought with a hint of amusement. The quivering, desire-ridden creature that now lay replete on his bed had once been a great man, as had the still unfinished Uchiha atop him. They were both now his toys, the whores of a warlord.
Sasuke pulled out of his brother-by-trade and crawled over to Orochimaru. The Sharingan eye was out, as if he wanted to commit to memory every thrust, every caress given or received. The Snake reached up with a finger and traced under his protégé’s eyes, the very tip tickled by long lashes. Unlike his brother, whose face showed every sleepless night, Sasuke’s face showed no sign of the parties that had continued into the morning, the long nights where he fell asleep with his master whispering sibilant promises into ears wrapped in the aftershocks. These eyes were his future, a great investment on his part and the keystone of all his plans.
Smirking as he watched the younger nin rubbing over his erection with a scowl on his face, Orochimaru opened the container of lube and squeezed some out into his palm. Eagerly, Sasuke tried to smear it onto his hand and rub it on himself, but Orochimaru held it out of his reach, pulling the boy up instead and giving him the same kiss so recently planted on the Hyuuga’s mouth, distracting him while rubbing the whole length of his cock with the lubricant.
Sasuke pouted when he saw what had been done. “You tease too much.”
“You enjoy it, don’t you?”
The Uchiha shifted and began to slowly lower himself onto his master’s penis, grunting with the pain. Like the medic-nin Kabuto, Sasuke liked pain, lots of it, and Orochimaru was only too happy to deliver. Sasuke’s screams echoed down the corridors.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
“Orochimaru-sama?”
One of the lumps under the blankets stirred. When it stirred, the other two did as well, curling close to the other’s warmth. A voice, deep and rough with sleep, murmured, “What is it, Kabuto?”
“It’s time to see the Ten off and commence cleanup. You asked to be awakened at the fifth hour, sir.”
Orochimaru ran a hand through his hair and looked over at the two dark-haired boys beside him in the bed. He had been on one end, arm draped over Neji and caressing Sasuke’s hip, Neji clinging to the Uchiha tightly. After they had finished, the two of them went after the Hyuuga again until his toes had curled. Sasuke was drooling on the pillow a little and the sannin reached over and wiped it off with a thumb. Neji stirred again, mumbling, and Orochimaru soothed him back into sleep.
“Wake me in three hours, Kabuto,” he ordered, and settled back down to rest.
[Reviews - 4]
Table of Contents
- Text Size +