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Make Me Feel Safe

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The pounding roused me from a moment alone with myself. The sound was frantic and insistent and not to be ignored, so, despite myself, I pulled on a pair of loose pajama bottoms, which hung low on my hips and did nothing to cover what I’d been doing. Annoyed with my visitor, and thinking it served them right for disturbing me, I didn’t bother to put on a shirt. Only padded barefoot through the night-darkened house, to throw open the door. “What is it?”

I was greeted with the sight of Sai on my doorstep. A not unpleasant or wholly unwelcome sight, causing me to lean casually on the doorframe, crossing my ankles and folding my arms over my smooth chest, while my long hair slipped over my shoulders. “Sai.”

The rain hissed down between us in straight sheets, drenching him. Making him look even smaller than he was and bedraggled. Making him look desperate, standing there, shivering on my stoop. “I didn’t know where else to go,” he said, eyes skimming over the conspicuous bulge in my pants and away, thin arms going to wrap around his torso.

He wasn’t dressed to be out in the rain, most of his skin exposed, but I didn’t immediately invite him in. “Why aren’t you home, Sai?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I- Please, Itachi, I couldn’t stand to be there. I-” A shudder passed through him and his eyes preformed another nervous dance over my frame before they were able to settle on mine. “Just make me feel safe, please, Itachi.”

I sighed, exhaling the breath like a form of penance. I always made him say it, always made him ask, before doing what he wanted. In a graceful, feline movement, I came out of my recline and fully looked at him. I found myself meeting dark, bottomless eyes. Eyes too many thought soulless, but I knew were just hopeless. Ever since the young thing had come out of ROOT he’d been largely alone because of those eyes that’d seen too much and showed too little on their deep, mirrored surface. “Come in out of the rain, Sai.”

He came like a dog, dripping and shivering and nervous. Once inside he stopped still, just beyond the door, and stood, creating a puddle on my floor. I shut the door behind him and brushed past that chilled form, sparing him a glance he flinched under. “Do you want some tea?”

“No.”

“You’ll get sick, Sai.”

He took a step forward. “Itachi, I-”

“Take off your clothes.”

He stilled, shivering again. Eyes down.

Sighing, I came forward, until I towered over him. “Take them off. You’re making a mess.”

With slow stiffness, half from cold, half from yearning and shame, he did what I asked. Stripping down to his skin in my genkan. I watched him, feeling my unsatisfied lust clawing its way up my throat. Causally, calmly, I let a hand trail down his chest. Standing as close as we were, with his eyes downcast and his breathing roughened, there was no question what he was looking at. My arousal could almost brush him.

“Move,” I said after a moment. “You won’t take something to warm you up, you’ll have to bathe.”

“Please, Itachi! I-”

“Move.”

Another shudder and he obeyed. Walking around me and heading toward my bathroom with slumped shoulders and a hunch about his whole body. Closed in on himself.

I watched him for a moment, then followed close behind. It was me who flipped on the light when we reached the room. Me who put my hand on his freezing shoulder and pushed him forward. My who turned on the water in the combination tub and shower. “Get in,” I said, brushing the pajama bottoms off my hips, so they fell in rustle to the floor.

His breath hitched, but he did it, making a little protesting, gasping sound when the lukewarm water hit his chilled, frigid skin. I closed in on him and reached for soap and a soft sponge. “You could have had it easier, but now you have this. How long were you out there, Sai?”

He whimpered, arms trying to curl around himself and hide him from me. Me, who he allowed himself to open to, and allowed to see as no other saw him. Vulnerable and naked. I pulled one of the arms away, gripping his wrist hard enough to elicit another low whimper. “How long?”

Those black, ineffable eyes met mine. Deep pools that left me cold with what was inside. “I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you come here as soon as you began feeling this way?” I further demanded, applying liquid soap to the sponge one-handed.

“I- I- D-didn’t want to cause you inconvenience.”

“Stupid,” I admonished. Holding him under the spray with one hand, I ran the sponge over his chest, mixing sud and water over his skin. Letting it trickle down him to the drain. “I told you to come to me, Sai.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Stupid,” I repeated.

A moment and I pulled him from the spray, pushed him up against the tiles, and started moving the sponge lower. Over his stomach. Lower. Between his legs, where he was growing slowly hard.

He squirmed, groaning, under my assault. Face flushing, as his eyes unfocused. Body reacting as though he were still a virgin, as if it were the first time he’d seen me, or I’d touched him. An untrue thing. He’d been broken in before he’d ever come to me the first time. Something which worried me.

“I-itachi…”

“Hush,” I said, wiping the sponge across his hip, before setting it aside and reaching for the detachable showerhead. I took it down and rinsed his front with merciless precision. He panted under the spray but made no other protest.

Done, I returned the showerhead to its cradle and turned him to repeat the process on his back. Paying attention to his ass. Swiping over his entrance and teasing him with slowness. His only response was to wiggle and shudder, turning his forehead languidly on the tiles.

When I’d had my fill of washing him, I rinsed the last soap from his skin and tugged him down to sit in the bottom of the tub. “Stay there,” my only admonition.

He curled in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them, while the water ran over him. I sat on the toilet led, sliding down a bit and spreading my legs, to stroke myself. Meeting his eyes, while I did it, when he looked up at me a moment. “You’ll stay there until you’re warm or the water’s cold. You tell me which.”

He ducked his head and shivered again, before going still. So, I waited. Making myself grunt and groan and wondering if I should let myself come in front of him or wait there too.

Ultimately, he decided. “I-itachi… I’m- I’m warm.”

Still unsatisfied, and painfully hard, I stood and turned off the water. “Out,” I commanded.

The young thing followed orders and let me dry him. Catching his breath a bit when I caught his cock in my mouth just once. Just enough for a quick suck and away from him again. After the gasp, he swayed into me, and I pulled him to my chest, sitting down again, as I did it.

Without a thought, I turned him, so his back was to me and my hands on his hips. My erection laid vertically across his ass crack and I moved my pelvis, to rub it on him, while I mouthed along his neck and shoulders. Nibbling skin, which was flushed and radiated heat, and raising my hands from his hips to glide over his v-line and chest, to find and agitate nipples gone hard as little stones. Making him double over and moan.

“You came to me,” I stated, teeth grazing his collarbone, forcing his head to the side.

“Yes,” was the simple return, his face strained and stained, and eyes clenching shut with too much emotion he didn’t know how to deal with and desire I didn’t fully understand.

Yet… “For what I can give you,” I attested, biting down enough to make him jerk.

“Yes!”

“Then get moving.” I followed the words with a slight shove toward the door.

“Where?” he managed, staggering a step.

“Bedroom.” My hand fell on his shoulder, where I’d bitten him. “Go.”

He went with his head hanging and his hands creeping up to hug himself, though he knew I would not like it. Once in my room, faced with my bed, he paused again. I came up behind, only to brush past. “What are you waiting for, Sai? Do you want to kneel?”

No answer. Folding in on himself. Hiding. From me.

“Get on your knees.” It was a command, counterpointed by my approach, and he obeyed. “Don’t irritate me, Sai,” I warned, wrapping a hand in his short hair and crushing his face into the softness of the mattress. He cried out half-heartedly, and I tugged his head to the side. “You wanted this. Don’t complain.”

He quieted and I used my legs to maneuver him more fully into a kneeling position beside the bed where I wanted him. Then I released my hold on his hair and made it apparent what I’d gone to retrieve while he’d hesitated. Rope.

With practiced ease and surety, I folded his arms behind his back and began tying them, wrist to elbow. His eyes were once more unfocused when I was done. Blurred and pained and begging. “Stupid,” I repeated a third time, gripping his hair at the crown of his head and pulling him away from the mattress. “You should have come when you first started feeling this way. Now look at you.”

“I’m sorry. Itachi, I-”

I didn’t let him finish, knowing what he would say. Instead, I used his hair to urge him up and help him climb onto the bed. “Up,” my only response.

He went clumsily, ungracefully. Stripped of his shinobi mannerisms by heart pain. By that emotion he didn’t know how to handle. All he seemed capable of was breathing fast, uneven gasps, once he was sprawled bare in my rumpled bed. Sprawled where I’d lain, playing with myself, before he’d knocked and disturbed me.

I enjoyed the sight a moment, then, “The leather or the cane,” I inquired. A typical question. Thoughtless. Stupid on my part, for once.

“The cane. Please, Itachi,” he begged, tilting his head on the pillows, so I could see how blank his expression had become. Expectant of pain.

I pondered him a moment, considering his too small form, the line of his spine showing under his pale skin, the length of time he likely spent in the cold, his ability to take what he was asking for. “No,” I said after that inspection, understanding my stupidity. “Not tonight.”

Turning, I moved to find the leather strap, but a sob from him called me back.

“It-tachi-”

Spinning on my heel to face his pitiful form, cradled in my pillows, I caught his ankle and gave a sharp yank. “Don’t test me, Sai.”

He quieted, closing his dark eyes and tucking his face away in my sheets. A small thing, craving his own ruin.

Near silent, I padded to my dresser. The leather was in a top drawer and I threaded it through my fingers on the way back to the bed. A length thick and wide. At the end of the bed, I touched his foot again, lightly. “You may have four, Sai, but no more. Acknowledge me.”

“Yes.”

A little word, but enough. I snapped the strap down on the back of his left thigh. He jerked, reflectively, absentmindedly, but made no outcry, making me pause. As always, wondering at his capacity for pain, trying to comprehend what ROOT had been for him if what I delivered was of so little concern it did not elicit a response.

My hesitation lasted so long he began to stir restlessly, and I preformed the other three lashes in quick succession. Each met with the same silence from the young thing stretched out on my sheets. When it was done, I set the leather aside and laid light fingers over the flesh of one thigh, where red had begun to swell.

As much as I delivered the punishment he required of me, I did not enjoy it or its aftereffects. Did not enjoy the sight of the stung skin under my fingertips. Not when there were other things I could do to give him what he needed.

I trailed a brush of my nails up over his thigh and ass, then crawled into the mass of blankets with him and pulled him close to my chest, where he lay, bound arms pressing on my gut and heart fluttering like a bird. As if it were the first time he’d been in my bed. That was long past, though. Years past.

Sighing, I stroked him. Brushing hair out of his face, then trailing a hand down his chest to trace around his navel. No movement from him, until I slid my hand low to grasp his hard length, making him stretch taunt, throwing his head back into the crock of my neck.

I suckled at his throat, delivering one, long, hard stroke to the part of him I held tight. “Do you want this, Sai?” I asked, finger going to play in his slit. Pre-cum bubbled there, making him slick.

“Yes!” he gasped out. “Own me! Itachi, please! I just want to feel safe!”

His typical refrain, the call for safety. Yet, no other urging was needed. I always made him say it, always made sure I gave only what he wanted. But I had no qualms about what was asked for in this aspect.

I parted his legs with one of mine, and used one hand to jerk him off, while I prepped him with the other. He was coming over my fingers in a hot rush, even while I pressed into him, glad to finally get my cock into something with the promise of getting off.

Getting off with Sai was easy. It was a thrill. He was so small compared to me, it always seemed he’d never manage to handle me without injury, but he always took the whole of me in with a desperation and determination which surprised. Mewing and pleading for me to fill him, use him, and shoving his ass back into me, until I was buried so deep in him it was hard to feel where I end and he began. From there, it was only to relieve myself, at last.

I wrecked him from the side for a while, then turned him over onto his stomach, urged his ass into the air, shoved his face into the pillows, and fucked him, until there were tears in his eyes. Budding and bubbling there like a form of relief. Like bitterness let go. The whole of it making him look younger than he was and doing strange things to my sensibilities. I snaked my fingers into his mouth, whirling them over his tongue and making him suck, while I fucked into the tightness that was his body. I would have fucked him longer, but I finally came when he hit his second orgasm and locked down around my cock so hard he milked my release out of me.

Leaning over him, I kissed his face, as we both came down off it. Trying to get the tears in his eyes to stop, once again wondering at the kind of pain, at the clawing, internal disquiet that ran so deep in him he felt the need to be so owned, so totally possessed by another in every possible way, in such utter submission, in order to feel safe. To feel secure enough to rest because he had been so wholly taken and dominated, he felt the other was in control and able to protect him. To make him feel safe in his own skin.

“I have you, Sai,” I murmured, turning him back into me and settling us both into the blankets. I held him there a time, letting his breathing even, letting his heartrate relax back into a steady thrum, letting him feel what he needed to feel in my arms with his tied and the reminder of my possession cooling in him. Then I kissed his ear and whispered, “Stay here, Sai. I’ll be back.”

He was dozing when I returned, twitching fretfully. Awkwardly, balancing the items in my hands, I kneed my way back unto the bed and over to him. Setting aside one of the things I held, I equally awkwardly one-armed his limp form into a recline against the pillows and tapped the side of a finger against the side of his face to rouse him. “Sai. Wake up, Sai.”

His eyes fluttered open to take me in, wide and dark and deep and full of unknowable things. Like wells rising to swallow me, they caught me for a moment in their hollow depths. Then I grunted and slipped my free arm under his back to support him, while I brought the cup I held to his lips. “Drink.”

He tried to twist his face away, tears starting in his eyes, yet again. “No! Please, Itachi, don’t. I-”

“Don’t test me, Sai,” I warned again. “Drink the tea.” He obeyed, but with a shudder. Always so willing to take the pain and so unwilling to take my kindness.

It was the same when I reached for the plate and tapped a dango against his lips with the command, “Eat.”

“Please, don’t, Itachi, I-”

“When did you eat last, Sai?” I demanded.

He did not answer, swallowing and looking down.

“Did you eat today?” I said it taking his chin in my fingers, so he would have to look at me.

“I don’t know.”

“Eat.”

When he had swallowed several of the sweets I favored and drunk the tea, I set the dishes aside and took him back in my arms, pressing our bodies together. I gave him a few minutes to recover, to feel secure again. Then I went about the rest of my business. My hands went to undo the knots binding him and he protested, moaning, “No, please, no, Itachi. Don’t take them off.”

“Hush,” I commanded, discarding the ropes in favor of a wide silken ribbon on my end table. Bringing his hands to the front of him, I wove the material around his wrists, not tying it, but tucking it under and in, to give the impression it was tied. “Don’t move and that won’t unravel.”

I said it, but I gave him more than just that. Wrapping one arm around his chest, I took his wrists with the other hand and held them firm, down near his stomach. “Sleep,” was my final word. One not to be refused. He shuddered, but did not say no, and, in moments, he was asleep there, in my arms. Damp eyelashes clinging to his cheeks. His need, his pain and anxiety, for once, for a little, forgotten.